Chaai

The single-cupped teacher of lessons
A totally unessential necessity of life
Like pickle, like paapad, without which the meal is incompletely complete
Tea is the mighty queen of frivolous panache
Commanding a whole meal-time created for her: the evening snack
And of course the breakfast couldn't be gulped down without her
To the religious ones, she is needed for clearing the sleep fog
To be alternately sipped with cigarette
To beat the cold
To beat the heat
To snuff the headache
To lengthen the happy octave
To cushion the blow (whichever type)
To even celebrate the brand new Urban Ladder coffee table
"Be lamps unto yourselves yourselves," he said
He said, "Seek not refuge in anything but yourselves."
And yet we seek
We find ourselves
And as the moment passes like a chugging railway station
The found bit stays stuck to the black plastic of the IRCTC stall dustbin
Our train moves
We want another station
We yearn for the smell of crushed ginger
We yearn to hear the boiling sugar crystals
The wafting brew breaks our resolve to stay chaste
Most of us
A lot of us
Do not progress to full cocaine
Only to the 'c' of it, like a lop-sided moon
One of which we hold onto
Another which dips into the never-ending pursuit
Of finding refuge
For a lot of us it is chaai
For some it is Old Monk
For some it is chicken biryani
For some, the 'c' dips not in the mouth
But onto flesh
Or onto their entitlements like: partners, children or friends
Or onto their accomplishments: like career, passion or travel
Or even onto great validations: like likes, comments and shares
Whatever the  end of the 'c' end
We had rather seek it
Than bend our heads to look at ourselves
Or be still even after our station has arrived