The cream swirled in the steaming chipped cup. Jashant took a careful sip and recoiled. He placed the steaming china carefully back on the saucer.
"You should blow on it first", said Rita.
She had removed her heavy rimmed glasses to clean them and looked at me with a vague stare. On raising the cup to her lips, her breath whistled and the steam disappeared without a memento. He left his own on the rickety table to cool.
"Don't you drink tea in Canada?"
"Not much."
Her purse's jaws sprang open and she fished out two brown notes before it clamped shut. Jashant motioned for his own but she raised her hand in defiance.
"No way. This is my welcome back treat", she said. "Besides, they only use rupees."
These words were not supposed to cut but they nevertheless bit him. She called for one of the waiters. Jashant took a long sip with lazy unease.
"I'll pay you back later", said Jashant. These words were almost inaudible to the patter of rain. The young man was not used to such kindness from his relatives. He was almost overcome with emotion and wished to relay them to her with a barrage of words. But they failed him. This internal battle went unnoticed in the tea shop. It would have been calm and quiet but the storm banged the outer walls with a bluster.
Rita said something but they were muffled out of Jashant’s focus. He was watching a corpse drive two pigs on a cycle.
Jashant eyes were captured by the shadow of passing rickshaw driver with the hood up. His bare back glistened in sweat and rain. His passengers were grandiose in both bodice and clothing. If it was a struggle to carry them through the muddy road, which it obviously must have been, the old man did not show it. He just carried on cycling.
I will go back in October", he answered, still squinting past the rain splattered window.
"But you will miss Diwali!" said Rita. Her eyes were popped wide and the black glasses slipped from her nose.
"They'll celebrate it on campus apparently."
"But it won't be the same."
The same thought was on Jashant's mind. Before he could reply though, an apron clad man stepped towards their corner. His eyes sneered at the man strangely and shone with a smile towards Rita. After he walked away with the two notes, Rita stood up. The young man’s face was hit by the wind when new customers rushed in for protection. The weather was helping business.
As the cousins walked out of the door sharing an umbrella, he spoke out. "I'm sure they'll have plenty of fireworks for our use."
"But it will be nothing compared to here. And I've seen their 4th of July fireworks. The 2nd graders burst more bombs", said Rita.
"You were four. I bet you were too busy eating your cotton candy to pay attention. And you were quite fat th-“
But she had torn away from him with the umbrella. He would have followed right behind if she had not kicked his leg right where it hurt. The stupid girl.
He growled in pain as Rita stalked off fuming. Gingerly feeling the abused limb, he stood up to the rain. He shivered with passion in his red tank top and stalked after the yellow clad figure. They looked out of place in this grey rain soaked town.
"Wait up Rita", shouted Jashant. He could have whispered the words. The downpour drowned them to the ground. All he could make out was her willow shape now.
The road was deserted albeit for one or two cars that splashed dirty water on the soaked pavements. His lenses were coated with precipitation. However, even if it hadn't been raining like hell, Jashant wouldn't have recognized his surroundings.
