We strolled through the blue-tinted chilly night well-lit by the moon. The cold asphalt-topped jagged stones massaged my feet. He never judged me for choosing to walk barefoot.

To walk barefoot, touching the ether, made moments slower.

Turning around, my steps came to a halt. I stood there looking at the black silhouette of trees, buildings, and mountains. The scenic look seemed to come straight out of his black-inked sketches.

The road disappeared into the mountains, with buildings on either side, with trees and plants animating the scene. The hostel, we stayed at was at the dead-end of the road, overlooked by green pastured mountains.

The past week, we woke up and had breakfast of hot plain noodles sitting on the black steel chairs, soaking in the morning warmth. We sat there longer without breaking the silence, mesmerized.

The same chairs became his favorite place to make art. He sat there with his sketchbook and brush pens laid on. I sat beside him with a book in hand.

The chairs were placed outside the hostel on a pavement overlooking the road. I ensured not to sit on the chair with tea stains, from him toppling them over.

At night, the light, above the chairs, a dimly lit yellow wall light, lit us against the blueish tint of the night. The scene looked lively as a Van Gogh painting.

My musings were brought to a standstill by a dog bark. He told me, to delay no further for the dogs are fierce. One night, returning from dinner, we waited half an hour to find someone in our direction.

We turned in the direction of the main road and proceeded with caution. As to not wake up the sleeping dogs. The dog that barked wasn't seen and the barks were not heard.

The vehicles passed through the main road as we waited to cross.

Liken to a film camera, I took in the view. A mascot, of an old bald uncle, with strands of white hair standing in a brown jacket with yellow sleeves and a white dhoti. With a golden tea kettle, and a white cup in hand.

Behind is the tea shop Ashwini Amruttulya. A small shop, with white walls and a green mat. In a glass-cased display, lit white, with bordering ambient yellow light strips, are freshly baked puffs, samosas, and cream buns.

We walked into the welcoming smile of the young boy in his teens. And the soul-enveloping aroma of the tea and the bakes. The strands of green grass mat caressed my bare feet as I took my seat.

He came to take the order, with a broad smile and a curious glint in his eyes. A depth of curiosity lingered beyond what we would order. We ordered chocolate tea and cream buns.

He left for the kitchen as we let our eyes wander through the menu pasted atop behind the cabinet displaying the bakes. Reminiscing the week through the items on the menu. We smiled at each other and prided having tried all flavors of tea offered here.

Chocolate tea is the safer bet when bringing my friends in here, I noted. I loved Thulasi tea a bit notch higher.

Two cream buns wrapped in white tissue paper were handed to us. As we took our bites, I cherished my memory of eating one being a kid on my way back from school. The cream was loaded in those, oozing out.

Here, the white cream in the brown buns was layered perfectly smooth.

The tea-stained steal tabletop with a shaggy leg still had three leftover cups and used crumbled tissues and puff crumbs. The cups were made of white ceramic and were sized differently. Wider at the top, narrow to the bottom. Small cute cups I thought.

I took my last bite of the bun and crumbled the tissue and placed it in one of the leftover cups. He came in with two chocolate teas in hand and placed them on the steal-top table while moving the leftover cups to a corner.

With questions in his eyes and a smile on his face. He sat beside us on the yellow stool pulling up the sleeves of his full-sleeve t-shirt towards the elbow.

I swirled the tea with the wooden thin ice cream stick dipped in the cup. Waiting for the tea to cool, I looked at him.

Leaning forward with a childlike curiosity he asked, Bhaiya where are you from? Bangalore I answered. Then taking a sip, I added we are from Kerala but currently living in Bangalore.

The answer added more to the curiosity of his. He wanted to throw in too many a question, but politely he picked a few. Why are you here he asked, just visiting I said.

Taking a glimpse into the shopfront I thought of keeping my answers short. I didn't want to take up too much of his time as he is working and the customers might show up anytime.

Sensing his next question, happily, I told him that we are Software Engineers and we work remotely. I wanted to share more detail of the journey with him, but then time was limited.

He sat there with more questions but confused as to which one to ask, the curious glinting eyes doing much of the talking. I asked him his name, to which he answered Ayush.

I have this bad habit of wanting to know the meaning of a name I hear for the first time. But this time I choose to not ask to, but for a moment I thought of the meaning while savoring the chocolate in the tea.

Do you read books?, Is a question I have reserved for everyone. The conversation feels lacking without that question. But before the question I waited to ask about which class he was in.

Class 10th he said, that's great I said. And then asked the golden question to which he joyfully said yes, I read books. That just gave me a burst of delight sweeter than the chocolate tea I held in hand.

Finishing the cups, we walked to the counter and made the payment. He walked with us to the storefront. About to leave I turned towards him and told him about our leaving back to Bangalore on the next day.

When will the next visit be he asked, not sure I said, maybe in a few months. Stepping out of the store onto the road I parted saying next time I will come with books for you.

As we turned towards the road to cross, he called in from the back. Looking back I saw him standing and waving excitedly and shouting Bhaiya promise?

Smiling wide I shouted back PROMISE!