It’s a surprisingly cold winter’s night in Bijapur. The clock is creeping towards 10.50. The study hall is quiet with a few studying their ass off for the final exams. Few others, still in the black and whites bantering on about some story. (Man have I missed a lot of stories!)
A slow clattering of tumblers start as the clock starts to creep towards 11PM. The study hall is suddenly reinvigorated with some josh. The duty boys are off their study tables early. A good time to catch up on the news for a few. Wonder what they were doing when the newspapers arrived way back, after lunch?
The specimen starts banging his steel table because he is just hyped for his break. The people who are trying to cram a 25th hour in a day seem mighty pissed at him.
The clock strikes 11 and there is a loud knock from the tea kettle. The duty boys and the bossy seniors rush for the tea. 5 minutes in, the kettle is empty but there is a breath of fresh air everywhere.
Groups congregate bantering and reminiscing about punishments, bunked classes, stupid-ass fake stories while enjoying their tea. The tea tastes special(Even till date!). Everyone has something to share, even the silent Manjya.
A bunch of special fuckers get their ass off to the basketball court to carry the “punt” session all night. (I envied those fuckers to be honest.) Some guy from a different house(neighborhood) is getting Chiwdas and few raw onions stolen from the Cadets’ mess.
The special group congregates in the court. There is Chiwda on the newspaper, laughter in the air, accompanied by a lot of feels and some anxiety. There’s also a wonderful company of friends and a smattering of stars in the night sky.
The chatter goes on, and I fall on my back of the tarmac to gaze at the stars. A shooting passes by and I make a wish, that I never miss a Night Tea ever again. :)
