A cup of Golden Tea

Mrs Modha sits cross legged on the plush leather sofa.Before her, on the table is a lipstick stained cup of Golden Tea.She doesn’t seem to have the awkwardness of being at the Emirates Palace Hotel.Her eyes aren’t wandering like most of the other visitors who gape at the luxury of the interiors.She sits relaxed.You can tell by the ease with which she sips on her cup,oblivious to the crisp smell of the rich,this is not her first time.She loves her tea.And this is her favorite, Golden Tea.

Athens.Memories many.Mrs Modha was many, many years back in beautiful Greece. Her life changed the day she ran to the bus stop,crying.Crying, uncontrollably.She had just escaped from the house she worked in and got beaten time and again. Young Mrs Modha stood and kept crying. Lady fate met her there.She kept her at a friend’s house till the day she would take Mrs.Modha to the house of the Ambassador.Mrs Modha only knew to scrub n clean.Cooking wasnt even a weak point,let alone strongest. But, the Ambassador needed a cook.Mrs. Ambassador would in the days ahead get her ready to cook for over 500 guests.It could have been her dire hardwork.Or could be Rumpestiltskin.It could even be this day in destiny where she sipped her Golden Tea.Something led her on.There was no looking back since then.The so many details in all these years seemed in no way significant.

All that matters today is the trips she makes from her flat a few kilometers from here in Abu Dhabi to drink this special cup of Golden Tea.A cup of tea so truly deserving.

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