The unfinished tea... A short story

 

The Unfinished Tea

A Short Story by Faraz Parvez (Pen Name of Dr. Arshad Afzal)

The street had the scent of rain and betrayal. Hussain Ali, the old tea vendor, wiped the counter of his tiny shop, his fingers trembling as he set down chipped glasses. The evening air carried whispers of revolution, but in this part of Lahore, nobody had time for revolutions—only for tea and gossip.

At Hussain’s stall sat Ghulam Rasool, a retired postman with a limp; Saleema, a widow who sold bangles in the market; Inspector Javed, whose pockets always smelled of bribes; Nabeel, a student who had dreams bigger than his stomach; and Master Rauf, a schoolteacher whose tongue could slice a man’s pride in half.

It was a usual evening until Rahim Darzi, the tailor, walked in, his face pale. He didn’t sit; he just stood there, breathing heavily, sweat forming at his temples.

“What’s the matter, Rahim?” asked Ghulam Rasool, blowing on his tea.

Rahim swallowed hard. “They took him.”

Silence. Only the distant honk of a tonga passing by.

“Who?” Saleema’s bangles jingled as she adjusted her dupatta.

“My apprentice. Bilal. The police came this afternoon. Said he was printing anti-government pamphlets.”

Inspector Javed cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the eyes on him. “If he’s innocent, he’ll be released.”

Rahim let out a short, bitter laugh. “Like the others?”

Hussain Ali stirred the tea, his ladle clinking against the pot. “The city eats its own children now,” he muttered.

Nabeel clenched his fists. “Bilal did nothing wrong. He only wrote what everyone thinks but is too afraid to say.”

“That’s enough,” Master Rauf said, glancing at Inspector Javed. “We are only poor people drinking tea. Let’s not invite trouble.”

The air grew thick. The tea turned cold. And somewhere in a dimly lit cell, Bilal waited for a dawn that might never come.

Faraz Parvez (Pen Name of Dr. Arshad Afzal)
Author | Professor | Blogger

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