An Apology Letter To The Chai- Wala Poem by Trivarna Hariharan

(A 'chai wala' in Hindi is a local way of referring to people who serve tea, to the passers- by or other miscellaneous people, and eke a living out of it.)
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His hands do not tremble
From over exertion or
Stress,
Like mine do, invariably,
At the very thought
Of how brilliantly I'd be able to
Pull off an errand assigned to me,
even before I set off to it.
His eyes do not
Complain of lack of sleep
Even after tossing dozens of sleepless nights,
Like mine do, every time
I stay up in my air conditioned, well-furnished room
Partying late with my friends.
His legs do not quiver
In pain, even after hours of
Standing long and running around,
Like mine do, after a brief while of jogging and sauntering around.
His mouth does not water for
The scrumptious delicacies he serves
Every day,
Like mine does, every another hour.
Hopelessly.
His stomach doesn't grumble one bit
for the tea he makes every day.
Like mine does, when my servant doesn't bring me my cup of tea at
Eleven in the mornings and six in the
Evenings,
Precisely.
His heart does not ache for a tip
like mine would, if I were him.
And to think that I scoffed him
today for a reason as petty
as my tea not being hot enough.
Is highly disturbing.
The poor soul didn't even retaliate
or so much as tell me that
he couldn't boil it properly
because the stove wasn't in working fettle.
The realization that he wasn't even at fault,
Is all the more excruciating.
I should've apologized,
Right away, I know.
But I'll do it my way.
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I've put the tea on boil.
The fragrance permeates the air,
Just the way his optimism pervades the place.
It feels as warm as him.
As loving as him.
I glance at my watch in desperation.
Wondering if he will turn up.
A few minutes later, as if in an answer to my prayers, I see a slim
fragile little boy walking towards
my door.
I smile to myself in contentment.

I hope that he will enjoy the first cup of tea of his life.
And I hope that it will be the best one.