It was a cold December morning.
The head office of the Jan Kalyan Party was always bustling with boisterous energy— leaders, strategists and workers arguing over policies. Chotu Arjun juggled his way through the noisy crowd balancing a kettle and earthen teacups on a tray, carrying piping hot tea.
“Chotu, idhar ek aur chai!” a party member ordered.
Arjun scurried over; and served a cup. The others ordered too. He had been doing this for a while, since his father who owned the tea shop discontinued his schooling and took him along to assist him in the shop.
Politics wasn’t a world for boys like him— it was for the powerful, the educated, the ones with lineage… or so they assumed. But Arjun was unique. He listened and absorbed every word, every speech. While others saw him as an insignificant chaiwala, he was intently observing, learning the business of politics.
He read voraciously, borrowing newspapers and books left behind in the office. He observed, questioned and imagined a world beyond poverty.
At fifteen, he left home, seeking purpose. He wandered through villages, working odd jobs, learning the struggles of the common man firsthand. He meditated in the Himalayas, understanding discipline and control. He joined small-sized movements, organising mini protests, demanding roads, schools, water and toilets for those who had none.
He wasn’t just speaking for the people— he was one of them. Yet he needed a vehicle, a political party.
Arjun eventually joined the Jan Kalyan party at the grassroots level and rose in the ranks with flair. He became an elected representative. His popularity grew exponentially. His speeches electrified crowds; his policies transformed lives. He didn’t just talk about change— he embodied it. He was soon a hero amongst the masses. His hunger for revolution was still unsatiated.
***
Some Years later:
The doors of the Jan Kalyan Party office creaked open. Arjun stepped in, his eyes scanning the familiar walls. Nothing had changed—the same wooden desks, the same chaotic cacophony. But this time, they weren’t shouting orders at him. They were waiting for him.
The Arjun who once served tea was now Arjun Deshpande, The Chief Minister of the state.
The room fell silent as he seated himself at the head of the table. The tables were turned as the men there now hung on to every word he uttered.
He closed his eyes; albeit momentarily… in the stillness of the moment, he heard the echoes of his younger self—rushing between chairs, pouring tea, dreaming of a day like this.
Arjun smiled, a quiet knowing smile as he opened his eyes.
“Gentlemen,” he began, his voice steady, powerful. “Shall we begin?”
Outside, a Chotu stood by the entrance balancing a kettle and earthen teacups on a tray, much like he once did.
CM Arjun Deshpande signalled for a cup. Offering his gratitude, he took the first sip. The taste reminded him of where he came from.He had returned to where he truly belonged.
***
Word Count: 494 words excluding the title and Glossary
Pic Credit: Google – India Stock Photo Alamy
Glossary:
Chotu- Little one
“Chotu, idhar ek aur chai!”- Little one, one more tea here
