Chai time
by Malavika Sivaraju
 
They say love is elusive. They might be right. Is it in the fried okra the husband makes one rainy afternoon? Maybe. Is it in the creases on the bedsheet on a Sunday afternoon? Perhaps. Is it in the in the organza pallu caressing the clavicles? Nobody can say. Or is it in the soft wisps of charcoal curls lying ever-so-slightly hiding the vermillion of last night? Possible. Maybe it is in that first sip of adrak chai when the dust settles? They say love is elusive. They are wrong.