You return from the flickering timeline with lingering clove on your lips and a sense of déjà vu you can't shake. Back at the chai stall, Chiku flaps nervously. "Someone else is steeping time now," he squawks. "And they're not sipping politely."
Across town, graffiti appears overnight—cryptic tea leaves sprayed on walls, always in mirror script. The mark of Samar, a rogue timeline walker. Once a gifted tea scholar from an alternate Mysore, he now brews brews that distort memory and twist futures. At least that's what Chiku tells you. He also adds that Samar is collecting nani's recipes too... but for entirely different ends.
"What ends?" you question nervously.
"The same thing that Gabbar hoped to achieved by making Basanti dance!" Chiku crows obnoxiously.
"So, you don't know what he's up to either?" You say, at the risk of stating the obvious.
"Don't question me, girl! You didn't even know what "Sholay" was until I met you a few weeks ago. Now stay here quietly and let your elder do some work, find some more graffiti," he announces and then abruptly flies out of the chai stall.
"Wait!" you call after him in vain.
"We're the same age," you throw half- heartedly at his retreating form.
While Chiku investigates from the skies, you find the third recipe tucked into your nani's old anklet:
"Whispering Nilgiri"1 sprig lemongrass, 4 crushed regrets, steeped under moonlight, stirred with truth you're scared to tell.
"Now you've done it Nani," you mumble to yourself, "How is anyone supposed to crush regrets? Regrets aren't something tangible that you can handle and store in jars like the rusks you eat with tea!"
You hold your head in your hands and let out a long breath from between your fingers.
You hold out your hands in front of you and inspect them. They are fairly calloused and rough. The well-defined grooves in your palms would probably be a delight for a fortune teller to read, what with the strange twists your life is taking. The rolling bumps on your fingers are still a bit flushed from the pressure and you hot breath tingles on then. Suddenly, your eyes light up with an idea.
"I know how to crush regrets," you turn to say to the spot where Chiku is usually nestled. When you are met with a cold silence instead, it is a stark reminder of how important a part of your life Chiku has become in such a short span of time. You're worried about him. He hasn't said anything about what he thinks about the recent trip to the past, to a year deeply important to him, and instead has been ranting about this Samar character. He seems genuinely spooked by him. You desire nothing more than to wrap up this bird in a blanket and stash him in your house so that no one can hurt him.
"One cutting chai," comes the voice of a customer.
You nod to him and start stirring the liquid in the pot heating up on the stove in front of you. As you pour some milk from above into this highly concentrated mixture of tea, you resolve that this evening you will directly confront Chiku about everything. You serve one customer after another. You watch the sun disappear into the hills from your stall. As the evening grows late, it becomes evident that Chiku isn't coming back tonight.