I could feel the rain on my face through the window of the car. It was about six in the morning and with the thick blanket of angry looking clouds covering the sky, as if threatening to pin us down with the ice-cold bullets of rain droplets; it was a perfect time for a garam garam ‘highway chai’. As we eagerly looked along the highway to spot a tea stall, all we could see was drawn down shutters and small tea stall yet to open. The owners probably were still lazily in there beds reluctant to leave the warmth it offered. I could only envy them as we came across more and more shops yet to open, which meant I had more people to envy and more wait for the chai.
After a few rounds of ‘spot a chaiwala’ we finally came across one which was serving chai. Bravo! I thought, at least someone cares about the highway goers. As most people would agree the tea at places like these is nothing more than a hot liquid with an easy to miss hint of chai in it. I have always believed what makes the it taste good is, the stopping on the highway, for a break from gazing into face of the never a ending blackness moving under you only to be broken every now and then for a roller coaster ride. This is what I call a ‘highway chai’. This time it tasted even better, may be it was the rain and the waiting so long.
As we sipped on our chai my friend asked me if I had got my letter yet. I had almost forgotten, it was three days since I had received it.
The letter was in there when I opened my mail box. I felt nothing looking at the mail, as I knew what was in it. The corporate was going through a restructuring for better efficiency and performance, or so they claimed. I always thought it was for making it more difficult for the employees to move up the hierarchy. It had been the hot topic of discussion for the past few weeks now. Starting that day we would get to know our new roles which were supposed to make us more productive and efficient and blaha blaha and blaha blaha and blaha blaha.
I found myself smiling , as I finished reading the letter. As the letter stated, I had moved one level up in the corporate ladder, pay unchanged. For a moment I thought the letter was mocking at me. I must have been imagining, or may be I was not. Just then a phrase from a novel I had been reading the last night came to my mind - Boot-on-face. That’s exactly what it felt like sitting there in my cubical staring at the monitor on which was the letter of my first promotion; if I could it call it so.
When I announced the news to my manager, the rituals were performed, first came the ‘congratulations’, followed by the ‘when is the party’, then I found myself responding ‘what party… no hike’, all with smiles our faces which told we were mocking at each other. Apparently, he was yet to receive his boot-on-face. I was brought back to my ‘highway chai’ by the complains of my friend for not telling her about the promotion and as she was demanding explanations. As we finished our chai and walked back, returning to the highway, I could only muttered ‘boot-on-face’, and I think she understood.
