short story

Almost a month since i made an effort to write, or had the urge to type. I had my favorite tea this morning after six or seven years. Twinning's English Breakfast Tea after ages. The last time i enjoyed it so much was during my high school final examinations, when we would take tea breaks in the middle of our study sessions. In my boarding school, the 'baiji' (female helper/maid) would hammer a copper plate, ring a bell? Well thats how announcements were made, dinner was served and school was closed. The bell. How the same sound held so many different meanings, in the mornings, it was to wake up, before meals to say prayer, evenings, sports time, night time, time for bed. One sound, so many meanings. Amazing.

Anyway, I was sipping my favorite tea this morning, and I repeat, the last time I enjoyed it so much was during my high school final examinations, when we would take tea breaks in the middle of our study sessions. I remember squeezing out the flavour from the tea bags, sometimes even sucking on the tea bag, after re-using it twice. 

Sometime when I think of my fancy boarding school, I think of the good times, but the bad ones linger longer. There weren't any episodes as such, it was just this disgusting feeling of not being rich and royal enough in comparison to the other girls who came there, that subconsciously left a mark on me. There were so many royalties in my school, and super rich kids. Kids that were taught by their parents to flaunt. Now, when i look back, it wasn't the kids fault, their parents messes up, big time. And probably their parents parents messed up before that. So, whose fault is it really? 

These rich-flaunty kids unknowingly left such a mark on those who came from average middle class families. An impression I don't know if I can put in words. Or maybe I can, but after another cup of tea.