She stood passively in her ragged clothes, dusty and disheveled hair and lifeless face outside the much frequented tea house in the expensive southern part of the city.
Every day, the tea shop that serves the best masala tea is teeming with activity.
As the crowd make a beeline to sip the thick and hot tea, the penniless women gently strokes her lip, hoping that a good and kind soul will offer a cup of tea.
She is despaired and looks sadly at her toddlers, hanging by her side, on the staircase of the tea house.
She quivers, thinking that her little and lifeless kids will go without food as she frantically beg for a rupee from the patrons.
Her mouth craves for the thick cup of tea yet she is oblivious of the feeling, as one gulps the hot beverage down the throat.
She cursed her luck, ‘it’s been a daily affair sitting outside the cafe everyday.’
The city has been ruthless to out caste like her who cannot dare to dream of making it big.
Sometimes, the fat owner, wearing a kurta spare her a rupee, hoping the beggar and the toddlers will move away.
Yet, she refuses to bulge.
Then, one day, the owner trimming his moustache found something missing,
No, it is not the clients or the tea boiled to 180 degrees in the steel vessel.
He couldn’t see the uninvited guest, welcoming the patrons in exchange for a dime.
The owner wondered where she has gone and feels a tinge of sadness.
Days, weeks and months have elapsed yet no sign of the sad woman beggar and her cubs.
He asked for a cup of tea and take a large sip that wets his moustache,
‘This is for you, O’, unfortunate lady! Come and visit sometime. Hope, you are happy!