The tea was brewing.
“Hurry up with the chaai already,” J grumbled from the dining table.
K was sitting in a chair and reading the newspaper, his back to the kitchen. He was waiting for the aroma of mint leaves in the boiling water to waft over.
K — “Waiting for the mint to diffuse into the water. The milk will go in next.”
“How long will she have to wait? It is 10:30 already!” J was growling now.
“Well, you woke up at 09:00 and she at 09:30.”
“We give her tea early in the morning every day.”
Now J prowled near the entrance of the kitchen. Till he couldn’t wait.
“Psshhh! I’ll just go and make it myself.”
K spoke, while still not looking up. “Yes, please. Take a second container and make another cup.”
A tap squeaked open. A cup clattered into a saucer.
K looked up. Was he about to brew a second cup of tea? He didn’t even drink tea!
K put down the paper, irritation splashed across his face. The water had boiled and the mint made its presence known. It did not matter.
“There’s already a cup here, if you’d just look around.”
“Why use another?” K said adding milk to it.
“Just let it boil.”
Both men stood in the kitchen facing the small vessel.
And each other.
They stood still, silent, as the concoction started frothing and bubbling. A lid was slid open. Tea leaves were added to it and the lid slid shut.
This had long ceased to be about the tea.
The tea was not the only thing brewing.