A Cup of Tea (VI, VII, VIII): Arranged Marriage

A cup of Tea – SIX (Arranged Marriage, Part 1)
**The story so far: The poet loves tea (obviously). He falls for a one who always spills what she sips (and his love too suffers a similar fate). Then he woos someone who neither savors tea nor his poetry. So another romance meets its eventual doom. Now the poet has agreed to mumma's insistence on arranged marriage, and read on to see what ensues.**

She walked in, carrying a cup of tea,
a bone china cup, served exclusively.
(For our parents downstairs were discussing weather
and we were ordained to meet and know each other)
A sweet smile flared on her face, dimpled.
A soft breath stopped in my lungs, wavered
and as I sipped her shy glances so sweet,
my heartbeat danced to her giggles, upbeat.
I saw my past misfortunes wither away
and it seemed, I was reborn that day.



"You don't drink tea?" I had upasked to kick off dialogue.
"Love it absolutely" her words resounded like an epilogue.
"But I had two cups already during the endless wait."
I simpered, "Oh! Really the traffic jam got us late."
Her eyelids danced with some unknown naughtiness.
Only my sips spoke, everything else was speechless.
I was too overwhelmed, she seemed such a delight,
I was savoring each drop of her present plight,
her hands were all tangled and bangled and so pretty,
and her flushing both charmed and aroused my empathy.



Suddenly we both burst forth into words together
and our silence disappeared into peals of laughter.
She turned the tables, told me, she knew some of my friends
and my many poetic romances were now famous as legends.
Ah! I smiled and mustered a somewhat witty explanation:
"Oh those real life experiments of my creative aspiration!
Hmm! Since you already know, do know, all past is but a myth,
Though like in tea, where taste of leaves, shrubs does persist
but in being rejoined with milk and sugar its sweet, reborn
as a married man, trust me, I will be a different song."

She knew, ah she knew! She knew of her who always spilled tea
and also of the one who drank nothing, oh! nothing absolutely.
She knew of my past, my poetry, my predicaments, my passions,
and had researched all this to judge beyond the first impressions.
While I had walked through her door, unprepared, quite circumspect,
(Failed romances taught me arranged one was an excellent prospect)
She had, as if, rehearsed the whole conversation in her mind
and was reassuring herself with whatever answers she could find.
An hour later, we knew, we knew we would see each other a lot more
But life, oh life! We ne'ver knew what awaited us outside the door!

****

A cup of Tea - SEVEN!! (Arranged Marriage Part 2)

But life! Oh life! A storm in a cup of tea.
We walked out to find a visitor: my spill bee.
"Oh! My spill bee, what buzz brought you here
Oh! There’s many a slip, 'tween cup-lip, dear.
Spill all your tea, but keep my secrets close
please, my past passion, don't my past disclose."
She read my thoughts, she smiled with her charm,
the gold bangles still adorned her married arm
"Hello Vivek! Pretty surprised to see me, you must be
But guess what? We both are best friends since class three!"


Ah! I stared into my emptiest cup of tea.
There were stains, and dregs and history.
There was emptiness, there was only void space.
My mouth was still superfluous with the aftertaste.
But she was kind, she took my cup away
and winked as she cleared our tea-tray,
and turned to spill bee, and smiled so softly
and blurted out my words, with a touch of glee
"Oh those real life experiments of my creative aspiration!"
Two girls happily clobbered me as amazons in collaboration.

Together we three walked down the stairs
Girls both grinning, and I with red ears
(Our parents were amused, in their duets they smiled
Their dreams were fulfilled, their traditions had survived)
Only I knew what real drama behind scenes had occurred
The girls smothered their laughs, I stammered, simpered
Her mother frowned, but aloud said, "She is happy, just"
My mother concurred, "He too never is so joyfully nervous"
It was getting late, we parted, but fixed up an exclusive date
In heart I knew, if spill bee was good, this one was just great.



A cup of Tea - VIII (Parental Wisdom)

My Mommie says, "Judge a woman from her cup of tea.
A cup of tea is enough to reveal her true identity.
How its serves tells you of her thoughts, her emotion
and a few sips can elucidate her sense of proportion.
A cup of tea reveals her character, her personality,
even how she holds it, reflects upbringing or vanity."

My dad reflects, "Tea and women are quite like whisky,
bittersweet, addictive, their effects on men legendary.
Maybe a cup of tea does all secrets of woman contain
trust me, they can never be revealed to a male brain.
Just like this cup of tea, hold the woman you love close.
(Sips) Revel in her sweet warmth, before her warmth goes."

My mommie smiling, savors the words of my dad silently
and then clears up the empty, cluttered cups, elegantly.
I visualize her metaphors, think back to the old cups of tea.
How one had hated them, how the other spilled endlessly.
How mommie's choice stylishly brought in and held my cup.
In simple teatime talk, cobwebs around my heart cleared up.

May 30 & June 2 & June 6, 2005

Reposting these, for I want to complete the soap opera:)