The cup of friendship!

It was a lazy Sunday evening. The sky was colour of mustard with the clouds forming a wall of black smoke playing around the setting sun. It had stopped pouring and the earth was drenched in water spreading a pleasant smell all around the busy place. Mr. Salunke was sitting in a coffee shop on a red coloured table placed in the corner near the glass door and despondently watching people entering and leaving the place. It was painted in yellow and red, and some amazing photographs gave a captivating look to the walls. He turned his gaze towards the chair across him, lying vacant, and gasped. 

Mr Salunkhe was an aristocratic man in his late thirties. He had been sitting in the same place for about an hour now, lost in thoughts about the past. He took out his ID card and placed it on the table. It read, Mr Sachin Salunke, M.D., Sunrise corporation pvt. Ltd.

 A 23 year old guy wearing a black uniform with a red cap which had the logo of the coffee shop printed on it, approached Mr. Salunke. It was the 7th time he had come to take an order but had found no way to bring Mr. Salunke out of his reverie.

 It had again started drizzling intermittently. As a young couple entered the coffee shop, the wind brought in a few drops of rainwater which found its resting place on Mr. Salunke’s right hand. The cold water spread a sudden rush of current in his whole body and he was snapped out of his musings. He looked at the boy standing in front of him.

The boy asked- “what would you like to order sir? “

Mr Salunke replied in his state of stupor- “a cup of friendship “. The boy was bewildered by the statement and replied politely- “sorry sir, we do not serve any such beverage here, would you like to order something else? “.

 He got up with a blank look on his face and left the coffee shop. Outside, street urchins were busy playing in water and mud. Fruit and vegetable vendors carried on with their errands as usual. He was feeling a little dizzy and heavy in the head. The refreshing breeze was not helping him feel any better. For a few seconds he kept looking into vacuum and then started walking slowly.

Mr Saluke turned right and walked inside a silent narrow street that was just adjacent to the busy road bustling with cars and bikes, running in a panicky fashion. The moon was full and radiant, looking like a pearl glowing in the dark sky and giving it a colour of dazzling silver. The gentle breeze wafted with it faint smell of the flowers. The path was muddy with trees protecting it from both the sides. He could feel the softness of mud beneath his feet which drifted him away towards the memories of his past. The sweet smell from a myriad of flowers, lying crushed on the ground, made him revisit the times when he was a young and enthusiastic boy of 11.

He belonged to a small village on the outskirts of the city he was currently working in. He could still picture the whole map of his village and his childhood memories. There were about 50 families in the village and most of them earned their bread through farming or working for a daily wage.

Salunke’s father used to run a small tea shop located in the middle of the village. It was a small thatched hut with space just enough for 2 people. In front of the shop, there was a huge tree with a round concrete platform around its bark. The hut was located on the side of a road which connected the village from the city. This was a resting point for all the fellow villagers and also the place where males from the villages got together for some merriment. It was also the place where all the important issues about village were discussed. Salunke’s home was just a few minutes walk away from the shop. It was a small house made up of red bricks with a roof covered by metal sheets.

Life in the village was simple yet full of contentment but Salunke had his eyes towards the sky. A good thing, only if his feet remained on the ground.

It was the year of 1988, when “Chhotu” joined Salunke’s tea shop. He was a dark skinned, thin boy; maybe the same age as that of Salunke. He looked starved and destitute but this never failed to rob him of his vibrant smile, which went from ear to ear.

In no time, both chhotu and Salunke became friends. Salunke would share his day in school and all his lessons. Chhotu was intrigued by all that but was never envious of him. He always had the hint of tranquillity on his taut face.

Salunke taught him english during the free time. They both played in the fields until the stars emerged in the sky. The friendship and the bond kept on getting stronger with passing days.

One hot evening during the month of June, when both of them were resting under a tree after playing for hours; Salunke got to know about chhotu’s journey. Perhaps, it was the amount of love and comfort chhotu had received from Salunke and his family that overwhelmed him. Or Maybe, he just wanted to narrate his story to someone he could trust; that he could consider as his own. His story came out in one breath, all the time avoiding looking straight into salunke’s eyes.  Thereby succeeding in hiding most of his pain, otherwise reflected in his eyes.

Salunke accidentally hit a stone with his right foot and wobbled. The pain he felt by the collision was nothing compared to the amount of pain he felt because of the burden of these memories. He was feeling giddy; so he sat down on a large rock that had been lying patiently in the woods since years. He heard a noise of crumbling  leaves behind him, as someone came rushing out of the bush. He stirred violently out of fear, trying to open his eyes as wide as possible to cover the maximum view. The look in his eyes changed from horror to contempt, when he saw a young couple in their teenage coming out of the bush. He shrugged and turned his head in opposite direction. An eerie silence invaded the dark in a few minutes and Salunke again dipped into his musings.

Since the day, Azhar, for that was chhotu’s name, had shared his life with Salunke; they both felt more connected to each other. Salunke thought of Azhar as his own brother. Both, his father and his sister were happy to see them both together and dreamt of their bright future.

Years passed by, and time flew by in a blink of eye. Salunke had passed 11th class and applied for a number of colleges in the city. He was a bright student and had scored good marks. He got admission in a renowned college and started planning to leave his village for higher studies. His father was old and sick but he did not worry about him, as Azhar was there to look after him. He had also taken responsibility of the shop. Salunke’s sister had married a decent guy from surrounding village and was happily living with her new family.

He left his home and started living in the college hostel. Soon, he made new friends out there and the city life took control over him. He was engrossed in this absolutely different lifestyle but never forgot to visit his home from time to time. His father was exhilarated to see his son aspiring to do something big in his life and working hard for it. Salunke would sometimes bring his friends along to his village. All his friends knew about Azhar and their friendship. Though they tried to act normal, Azhar could sense that he was looked down upon by them. He chose not to say anything regarding it to Salunke. He thought that maybe he is getting it all wrong, and moreover, he knew that Salunke would never feel that way for him.

Time passed and after a year Salunke’s father met his end. Both Salunke and Azhar cremated their father’s body,crying  profusely.

After a few days, both of them regained their strength and moved on in life. Salunke went back to his studies and Azhar got busy with the shop. Now he was the only one left in the house. He would always tell Salunke to finish his studies and return home. It was a tough job for him to look after the property which did not belong to him. But he did not want to abandon it because it contained the memories of salunke’s father and the precious times they all had spent together in that house. On the contrary, Salunke thought of getting a suitable job in the city and settling there. He started supporting his expenses by doing a part time job in a BPO after college timings. Salunke’s visits to the village ebbed with time. He would bring his friends along most of the times and they all would drink and smoke all night. Azhar was not comfortable with it and his tolerance collapsed after he anticipated that the situation was going out of control and something had to be done about it. He spoke with Salunke and told him whatever he was doing was not right and he was disrespecting his father by allowing all these things to happen in this house.

Salunke was irritated as he thought that Azhar was crossing his limit. Infuriated by the interference, he yelled at Azhar and told him to stay away from his personal matters because he was just a mere servant who was looking after his property. Azhar was devastated by the words. He did not mind that Salunke scolded him in front of everyone but what struck him was that he was being despised by the person he loved the most. It felt as if someone was trying to pull a dagger out of his chest. The pain was trying to escape from his throat but he gulped it down. He tried to maintain his calm but spoke with grief in his voice “ Dear friend, I was a servant to your father, not you. I looked after this house because I loved him but I think, now that my beloved master is no more, I shall find a new job for me. I will resign from my work as soon as I find some other job. But if you want, I can leave as soon as possible.” He felt like he was orphaned once again. Tears managed to come out of the corners of his eyes. He turned his back towards Salunke and left the house.

Salunke was standing there, with his eyes full of shame as his face turned red. He wanted to apologize to Azhar but the presence of his friends resisted him from doing so. He felt as if his ears were on fire and his knees so numb that he would collapse on the ground any moment. The clock showed 2:00 in the morning and everybody decided to sleep. The night was long and painful for both of them.

After a month, whilst Salunke was coming out of his college after attending the classes; he saw Azhar standing in front of the gate. Their eyes met and they both smiled at each other. They shook hands, avoiding each others eyes. Salunke had already anticipated the purpose of Azhar’s visit. He asked him, if he would like to have a cup of coffee. Azhar refused but Salunke compelled him to join.

They both sat in front of a red, round shaped table.

All the memories about the past, the pranks, the laughs, everything was flashing in front of his eyes. His heart felt heavy as a stone. The silence was broken by a boy in black uniform. Salunke asked Azhar as to what he would like to have. Azhar looked at the boy with innocence and doubt in his eyes, then he moved his gaze towards Salunke. With trembling hands he reached for his bag and took out a long, thin glass out of it. It was the glass they used at the tea shop. Salunke was confused and asked Azhar for what it is.

In a low voice, he replied, “I could not afford an expensive gift for you, neither I had enough money to buy something suitable; so I thought I would gift you this cup which is going to remind you of our childhood memories and the place where we first met. Here take it. This, my friend, is a cup of friendship.”

They never met again.