Aah lemon tea! Where is it? I clap the air,
trying to kill the pestering mosquitoes. The Farakka express is 10 minutes
late. That means I can continue my
search. The humid summer weather of Jamalpur makes me more desperate for lemon
tea. Mom is always tense during journeys. It’s no use asking her to join my
search party. Some hawkers have Malda’s famous mango jelly. Not interested. The
train’s arrival almost dashes my hopes. And ………there is the old man in his
dirty dhoti and old, faded kurta with disposable cups and a kettle whose snout
he has blocked with paper ball. Bless him!
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