My Morning Tea and Goosebumps

(representational image @ pinterest) 

I had a tickling sensation in my stomach for so long and I had no idea how to solve it. The problem was seemingly ridiculous. The middle aged tea-seller in my neighborhood wasn’t serving me tea anymore. Somehow he was angry or offended by me. And God knew why.

That day at morning, I started walking briskly from my house as usual, crossed the rows of closed shops beside main road, and then took the service lane alongside NSIT, the famed engineering college in vicinity. It was my morning routine, except the days when I swipe off the alarm in my mobile and wake up exactly at nine. That is the last possible hour of time to be able to prepare for office and not to be marked as late.

As usual, I walked that day upto the police chowki at the edge of the vast campus of NSIT, and then turned back, and stopped near the tea-stall at market. The uncle was from Bihar and he had a short  stealthy stature. He knew me by face. I was a regular. Few peoples were seated on a wooden bench and reading newspaper in rapt attention with tea-glasses in hand.

‘One tea please’, I said, wiping the sweat from my face with a handkerchief.

‘Tea isn’t available’, the uncle said without even looking at me.

‘I can wait for some time uncle, if you finished milk or something’.

‘No. Tea is finished’, the man said, now little rudely.

‘I can see all others are drinking tea’, I said with a blunt force and visibly surprised tone. What the hell was happening?

‘It’s my shop. And I say, tea is finished’.

It was the sort of end of conversation. What should I say? I stood there flabbergasted. The morning was humid, and then the brisk walking fully activated sluggish sweat glands. They were producing liquids at full power. I glanced at other customers, seated on bench. Nobody was looking at me. I looked at the uncle. He was stealing glances, but with an iron face. He definitely wouldn’t serve me tea or anything. I left the place.

Back at home and in office, I was forced to wonder, what the f**k had happened? What did I do to him? I was always nice to him. Actually I am nice to every-freaking-one. I asked him about his village, his children, his place of stay in Delhi, and his daily income. I smiled at him whenever I was passing by his little van, and moreover I never was due in payments. What more I could do?

I passed his shop next morning, and noticed the mid-aged man selling tea to his customers. The moment he noticed me, I smiled, but he turned his face away. I thought of asking him the question, which was giving me occasional goosebumps from yesterday. What I have done uncle? But I was late for office or maybe I was awry for further confrontation. I went to another tea-shop one block away, and from that day on, started to have a cup of tea at that ‘new’ shop. Gradually with days, the tickling sensation went away, but whenever I was passing that shop of mid-aged angry uncle selling tea behind his small van, I couldn’t resist myself from feeling that old stomach crunch.

One month later, while I was panting during a fast paced walk, the uncle from Bihar called me. ‘Beta’.

I thought he was calling somebody else. But out of habit, I looked at him. He was behind his van.

‘Can I talk with you for a minute?’

He was definitely speaking with me. I stopped there, and raised my eyebrow a little.

‘You’re not coming for tea now-a-days. Why? Is something wrong beta?’ the man said.

I didn’t know how to react or what to say. After that rude refusal, this? Did he have dementia or something? Had a disease to forget everything? Cautiously I answered, ‘You only refused me to serve tea uncle. Remember? Around one month back?’

He lowered his face a little, tried to smile but only tobacco stained teeth came out, and said apologetically, ‘That was a mistake beta. I took you as somebody else. A young chap misbehaved with me one night when he was drunk. And he was of your age. He had this small goatee beard too. I thought you were him.’

Okay. So that was it. An identity mistake. So simple. I didn’t know I was relieved or embarrassed or something else. I thanked him and walked away.

Next day while I passed him, I didn’t feel anything. No stomach crunch or goose-bump or tickling sensation. I knew he was looking at me. I increased my speed and the volume of music in ear-piece. I took a big inhale of fresh morning air, and then lose it out. I walked away.