Kattan chaaya *

She would go about on a locking spree at twilight. The gate was clanged shut first. She swung it in with both hands like tethering a sluggish monster, waking up from sleep with a dull metallic growl after the day long inertia. The afternoon rain had been abrupt and brief, and like half finished sentences, misted the air - never completely leaving. When it blended with the waning light of dusk, it softened all edges and gave the front yard a feeling of being looked at through a fuzzy cobweb.
She "tch-tch"-es past muddy puddles to the front door and with an affirming sweep, bolts it. Her skin glistening and dark, as if the night had smudged onto her.
At night, rain pelted down impatiently. She settles down near the rickety dining table, under the new asbestos roof which amplifies the sound of the downpour.
"What are you drinking?" , I prod.
"Kattanchaaya"
I grin profusely. She nonchalantly takes a swig. Her mouth, flaccid and frilled by age, would never be able to hold it all in. It would brim and gloss her lips as she gulped it down. It would leave a moist imprint when she kisses my forehead. "Sleep now" , she demands as I clamber onto the bed, which smells like hiding rain and old bibles. She leaves silently, even before the wet remnant of her kiss evaporates.

*Black tea