The steam rising from the clay cups made the surrounding air feel slightly warm and heavy. Surjo pressed his lips to the rim of his cup and took a sip, but with extreme caution. His expression showed he was experienced in this; he, at least, wouldn't make the foolish mistake of burning his tongue on hot tea.
Tara watched Surjo's careful sipping for a moment, then looked down at the cup in her own hands. Inside the gray clay cup, a green-tinted liquid was trying its best to stay still. But because Tara's hand was trembling slightly, small ripples formed—like a gentle breeze swaying across the surface of a quiet river.
As she took her first sip, an unusual flavor flooded her mouth. The taste of this green tea was somewhat wild and refreshing. Initially, it felt a bit bitter, but it soon left a lingering sweetness on the tip of her tongue. A natural fragrance, reminiscent of grass or damp earth, hit her nose. As the hot liquid traveled down her throat, it felt as though the fatigue in her body was being washed away. Luckily, she had followed Surjo's lead; otherwise, she surely would have burned her mouth on her very first attempt at drinking this nectar.
The warmth of the tea brought a faint reddish tint to Tara's lips. With one sip in her stomach, she realized that even amidst this smoky and harsh world, such a fresh flavor could be hidden—it was beyond her imagination.
Just then, the old woman sat down beside them with a thud. Sitting right next to Surjo, she asked with a smile, "How's the tea, Surjo?"
Surjo took his final sip and gave a satisfied grin, "Wonderful, Grandma! Just as wonderful as ever!"
A serene smile spread across the old woman's wrinkled face. Then, she slowly turned her sharp yet maternal gaze toward Tara. Tara felt a bit flustered and clutched her cup with both hands.
Grandma nudged Surjo with a look, signaling toward Tara. "Now tell me, Surjo—who is this girl with you? I've never seen her before!"
Surjo was about to say something, but Tara broke the silence herself. "My name is Tara... yes, that's my name. And I met Surjo... he saved me." Though her words sounded somewhat disjointed and stiff, Grandma had no trouble understanding.
Grandma shifted her gaze from Tara. Her eyes fixed on a beautiful scene ahead, which felt like a complete fairy tale in this gray world.
Away from the shadows of the buildings, this small patch of green garden was like a slice of quiet heaven. Small flowers of various colors—red, blue, and yellow petals—danced gently to the rhythm of the southern breeze. The air here was light; the scent of damp earth and the sweet fragrance of wild flowers permeated the surroundings. Beneath the open sky, this garden was a sanctuary of vitality. Even amidst the surrounding harshness, the branches of this garden made a beautiful attempt to reach the sky with maternal tenderness.
Grandma began to speak with a gentle smile, "I'm glad Surjo has a new friend." Then, looking at Surjo, she added a teasing remark, "Though she would have suited you better as your 'wife'!"
Surjo's eyes went wide. The word 'wife' wasn't in his dictionary. "Wife? Is it something you eat?"
Grandma shook her head, the lines of laughter deepening on her lips. "No, you silly boy, it means a companion—someone who stays by your side for a lifetime. I just said it in jest, you don't have to think so hard."
While the word 'wife' didn't register in Surjo's head, the idea of 'staying by one's side for a lifetime' made quite an impression on him. Tara tried to lighten the mood. Taking a small sip of her tea, she said, "This thing is actually quite interesting, what I'm drinking now."
Grandma looked at Tara and said, "I knew you'd like it. Surjo loves it too."
"But the fact that you make me push that handcart in exchange for it is not interesting at all!" Surjo said, pouting in mock anger.
Grandma became grave. "The joy of something obtained without effort doesn't last long, dear. The fruit earned after hard work has a different flavor altogether."
Tara gazed at the garden in fascination. She wondered how these beautiful saplings were surviving amidst such destruction. She asked, "This garden is very beautiful, Grandma!"
Grandma smiled, though a shadow of old melancholy lurked in the corners of that smile. "It was my long-held dream to have a garden like this. But where I used to live, it was nothing but snow and bone-chilling cold twenty-four hours a day. It was difficult just to keep a single sapling alive, let alone a garden."
Surjo piped up, "Didn't Osman say that people of the old times were very advanced? So why didn't you use technology to make a garden, Grandma?"
"The answer is—no," Grandma paused, as if dusting off old memories to organize her words. "Where I lived, the touch of modernity didn't really reach. That village was covered in snow and far behind the times. I used to grow small flower plants in pots inside the house, but they were few—"
She let out a sigh. "There's no use thinking of the past. Perhaps because I've found a new companion, everything is coming out from within. I had no intention of coming to this city, but I got trapped here due to a set of circumstances. However, I've been hearing lately that train services are starting up again for transporting goods. It's not open to ordinary people yet, but if I ever get the chance—I want to breathe my last in my own village."
Surjo suddenly cried out, "What did you say at the end? Be quiet!"
Grandma burst into hearty laughter. She quite enjoyed Surjo's unrefined protectiveness. Suddenly, Surjo's eyes fell on his tea cup. "Oh, the cup is empty!"
Grandma stood up and said, "Will you have another cup? There are some biscuits too, want to try them?"
The anger on Surjo's face vanished instantly. In its place, a wide grin appeared. He nodded happily and said, "Of course!"
Grandma smiled gently at Surjo's response. Rising slowly, she went inside the house. After her shadow disappeared behind the curtain for a moment, she returned. In one hand was a steaming tea kettle, and in the other, a porcelain dish—arranged with various kinds of biscuits. Some were round, some square, and some were shimmering with a coating of sugar crystals.
As Grandma tilted the kettle, a narrow stream of hot tea crashed into Surjo's cup. The aroma of the tea swirled up from the bottom of the cup and hit Tara's nose once again. Surjo didn't delay; he picked up a large biscuit from the plate and dipped half of it into the tea.
As the biscuit softened from the soak, he took a large bite. Instantly, his eyes closed in satisfaction. The strange harmony of butter and cardamom seemed to start a festival on his tongue. The warmth of the tea and the crunchy-sweet mix of the biscuit relaxed Surjo's entire nervous system. He murmured, "Mmm... the best thing in the world! Better than the last night!!"
Surjo looked out from over his cup at the harsh sky outside. The gloom in the air hadn't lifted. Suddenly, a whim struck Surjo. He grinned and looked at Grandma, saying, "Everything is fine, Grandma, but if it started raining right now, the whole thing would be perfect!"
Surjo's words were like a spark in an invisible powder keg. In an instant, the gray sky grew even darker. It was as if a magician had covered the sun with a massive cloak. The rumble of thunder shook the earth.
A cold drop touched Tara's forehead. As she looked up, she saw thousands of silvery threads of rain beginning to descend from the sky. As the raindrops hit the hot earth, the familiar scent of damp soil filled the air. The flowers in the garden seemed to have been waiting for this blessing; their petals swayed and danced under the impact of the rain.
The rhythmic pitter-patter of rain on the corrugated tin roof created a continuous melody. In the blink of an eye, the dusty world around them began to look clear and fresh. Surjo stared outside in wonder, holding his tea cup. He probably hadn't imagined that his small whim would manifest so grandly in nature.
Looking toward the window, Grandma whispered, "Your luck is quite strange, Surjo. Whatever comes to your mind, nature seems to give it back to you."
As the spray of rain hit Tara's hair and face, she felt how beautiful life could be even amidst these ruins. A cup of hot tea, a bite of a biscuit, and this unseasonal rain—altogether, the scene was like a classic movie.
As the rain intensified, the heated atmosphere changed in a moment. The gloominess of the air vanished, replaced by a chilly shiver that gently nipped at every pore of the body. This cold wasn't painful; rather, it was as soothing as wrapping a silken shawl around oneself after a long heatwave.
Tara held the warmth of the tea cup in her palms and let out a long sigh as she looked outside. Before her eyes, the garden had taken on a new form. With the dust washed away by the relentless rain, the plants had become a deep, lush green. As the silvery raindrops crashed onto the large leaves, it sounded as if someone were breaking thousands of glass bangles in nature. That sound had a strange intoxication that instantly calmed a person.
Surjo walked to the window and reached his hand out. As a few large drops fell into his palm, he burst into giggles. That cold touch sent a strange spark through his blood. He turned back to Tara and said, "See, Tara! Didn't the rain start at the perfect time? Now the tea tastes even more delicious!"
Grandma sat down in an old wooden chair in the corner of the room. There was no worry on her face now, only deep peace. Looking at the rain outside, she whispered, "This coolness was much needed. Hearing this song of the rain makes it feel like the world is still alive."
The small flowers in the garden weren't bowing under the force of the rain; rather, they seemed to be bathing with great satisfaction. That damp scent of the earth was now more intense, more enchanting as it spread through the room. No machine or artificial technology has the power to create such a pure moment.
A quiet, serene stillness was everywhere. In this harsh city of ruins, this sliver of a rainy day had descended like a piece of priceless blessing. Amidst the tea, biscuits, and this cool breeze, Tara and Surjo seemed to forget that they were passing through a difficult time. In fact, they had forgotten it long ago.