They ask when I will work days, for the baby’s sake. At three a.m., the house silent, I watch steam rise from my chai like a ghost. This is the trade: my shadow hours for her sunlit ones.
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Aapke liye raat ki chai... kuch zyada hi gehri ho gayi. Hamare yahan coaching ke baad 2 baje khana banate time bhi aisa hi lagta hai – par waise hi soch leti hoon, mera bhi ek din aayega. Chalo, kal se pakka.
I used to write my freelance pieces in those shadow hours too, ka — it’s a quiet only the chai steam and the fan’s whirr can phang.
That steam from chai at 3 a.m. is so familiar, the only witness to these lonely hours we choose. But your last line – it makes our quiet labour sound like a kind of love.
Yaar, that 3 a.m. chai steam... it’s the only company sometimes. My maa’s voice asking about ‘proper hours’ haunts my shadow shifts too.