fresh story, new chaos.
It started simple.
A cold morning. A lazy mood. A kettle humming like background music in a sad indie film.
I thought: one cup can’t hurt.
But one cup turned into five.
And by sunset, I was 80% caffeine, 20% regret.
Act 1: The First Cup — Pure Romance
The first sip was perfect — sweet, milky, slightly over-boiled, just the way desi heartbreaks taste. Suddenly, I remember every heartbreak, every exam I didn’t study for, every time I said “five more minutes.”
The chai doesn’t just wake me up — it forgives me.
I sat by the window like I was in a drama, pretending to think about life when really I was deciding whether to dip a biscuit or a rusk.
That cup warmed my soul.
It whispered: “You are the main character.”
I believed it. Foolishly.
Act 2: The Second Cup — Confidence Lies
The second cup arrived too soon.
Someone said, “Another?” and I said, “Sure,” like an addict in denial.
Suddenly, I was talking faster, moving faster, thinking I could start a business, a podcast, maybe even run for president.
My brain was Wi-Fi 6.
My hands were earthquakes.
And my mother said, “Beta, stop before you start speaking in Morse code.” My family knows the look — wide eyes, shaky hands, unnecessary confidence.
That’s the chai high.
Act 3: The Third Cup — Chaos Unleashed
Now the caffeine hit different.
My heart started doing bhangra.
My thoughts were running marathons.
I wrote a to-do list with 47 items, including “fix global economy.”
Then came the crash.
The silence.
The oh-no-what-have-I-done stare into nothingness.
I wasn’t sipping chai anymore — chai was sipping my sanity.
Act 4: The Midnight Regret
At 3 a.m., I was still awake, staring at the ceiling like a crime suspect or the fan is giving a TED talk.
I’d scrolled Instagram three times, cleaned my drawer twice, and started questioning gravity.
My stomach made strange noises.
My hands trembled.
Even the walls were shaking (or maybe that was just me).
That’s when it hit me —
“This is how poets are born… and also how they die.”
Act 5: Enlightenment by Headache
Morning came. I looked like a ghost who’d been through a caffeine apocalypse.
I promised myself I’d quit chai forever.
Then mom said, “Beta, tea?”
And I said, “…make it strong.”
Because some mistakes are too beautiful to stop repeating.
Moral of the Story:
Never trust a desi who says “bas ek cup aur.” It’s a trap.
“They say love burns slowly.
Mine boiled on the stove for 15 minutes and still overflowed.”
Rest in peace to my sleep schedule.