Chai with My Younger Self
I saw her before she saw me , a 15 -year old girl . No, to be specific that was young me, from some years back wearing that old blue kurti I had almost forgotten about. Sitting with her legs folded, slightly hunched, sipping chai from a “matir bhaanr” (teacup). She looked just like I remembered . Restless, full of questions, and a little unsure of herself. Her fingers tapped lightly against her knee, a habit I had long left behind.
She noticed me staring and frowned. “Do I know you?” I smiled and sat beside her, feeling the warmth of the chai in my hands. “You will.”
She looked at me, skeptical. “That’s weird.” I chuckled. “You’ll get used to weird. Life has plenty of it in store for you.”
She raised an eyebrow, waiting. I knew that expression well . It was the one she made when she wanted answers but didn’t want to ask too many questions. I decided to give her what she was looking for.
“I am you after some years”. I stated . She was stunned. “I am the old you” I reassured again.
Within a speck a time I understood she came here to take a fresh breath, to escape the noise and find clarity just like I do now. The ganges was always calming to me! And even years could not change that. I smile as I approach, and she looks up. Her face lights up with familiarity, but there’s hesitation too like she’s not sure what to expect.
She looked at me, her brows furrowing slightly. “You look… older.”
I chuckled. “Well, yeah, getting old does that to you.”
She stared at me for a moment, then blurted out, “Are we successful?”
I took a deep breath. “Depends on how you define success.”
Her eyes widened. “What?” “You’ll want to follow a different path, and they won’t understand at first. It’s going to be tough. You’ll cry. You’ll doubt yourself. But you won’t give up.”
She sat still, absorbing my words. “And then?” she asked hesitantly.
“And then,” I smiled, “you’ll prove yourself. You’ll make them proud. It’ll take time, but one day, they’ll look at you with admiration instead of worry.”
She exhaled, looking down at her chai. “And what exactly am I doing that makes them so worried?”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You’re not taking the safe route. You’re not following the plan they set for you. You’ll become an engineer, like they wanted, but instead of settling for a traditional job, you’ll choose something else.”
She looked up, curious now. “What?”
“You’ll work on your own terms, choosing projects that excite you and you’ll do pretty well at it.”
She listened, intrigued, as I added, “Oh, and guess what? People actually pay us for our creativity now. Remember how we used to scribble stories and random thoughts in the back of our school notebooks? Turns out, that love for writing never left us it just found new ways to shine.”
She let out a laugh — short and disbelieving. “You mean no stable job?”
I nodded. “No fixed paycheck, no office politics, no boss to answer to. Just you, your skills, and your ability to build something of your own.”
She asked worried, “Did you not give the “stability of a job” a try? . You always wanted to play safe”. she paused.
I leaned back. “We did. And we tried it. But turns out, we love freedom more than playing it safe. We like working on our own terms. Choosing work that excite us.”
She frowned. “That sounds… terrifying.”
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“It is,” I admitted. “The first few years will be hard. You’ll struggle to find clients. Some months, you’ll think of giving up. Some days you will have to work for 24 hours. But slowly, you’ll get better. You’ll build confidence. You’ll stop caring about what people think of you.”
She tilted her head. “I care a lot about what people think.”
I gave her a knowing smile. “Not anymore. You’ll learn to let go of that. You’ll realize that their opinions don’t pay your bills or make you happy.”
She stayed quiet, absorbing my words. I could see the questions running through her mind, the way she was trying to picture herself as this person I was describing.
“And what about — ” she hesitated, then continued, “him?”
I smiled, already knowing who she meant. “You still love him.”
Her face turned red. “What?!”
I laughed. “Yes. And guess what? He still loves you too.”
She looked down, stirring her chai even though there was nothing to stir. “We’re… together?”
I nodded. “Not just in love, but in work too. You’ll build something with him . Something that feels like both of your dreams coming to life. Not just a business, but a vision you both believe in, something that truly matters.”
She looked at me, wide-eyed. “We’re business partners?”
“Yeah. You’ll work side by side, face challenges together, support each other. Some days will be frustrating, but you’ll figure it out. Because you trust each other.”
She was quiet again. Then, in a small voice, she asked, “Do we make it?”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’re making it.”
She exhaled, a soft smile forming on her lips. “And my best friend?”
I grinned. “Still by your side. Supporting you through all odds”
She chuckled. “And my di’s clothes?”
I laughed. “You still wear them. But now she doesn’t yell at you for it.” I smiled, thinking of her. “She’s doing amazing too, successful in her own way. And honestly? We still look up to her, just like we always did.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “This is a lot to take in.”
I nodded. “I know.”
She bit her lip. “I feel like… I don’t know if I can be you.”
I looked at her, really looked at her , the doubts, the fears, the dreams buried under hesitation. I had been her. And now, sitting beside her, I knew how far I had come.
“You already are me,” I said gently. “You just don’t see it yet.”
She held my gaze, and in that moment, I saw it , the belief, the possibility, the quiet hope. And as we sat there, drinking chai together, something in her shifted. Something in me healed.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t just reassuring her.
I was reminding myself of how far I had come.
