The car drove up to the tea bungalow located on a hillock. The driveway that led to the porch was flanked with palm trees on either side. As is customary of the plantations, half of the trunks of the palm trees was white-washed and they stood their stead in uniformity. As the car drove through the porch, one could view the beautiful jaali-kamra, with potted Areca palms in the corners. The bungalow had a colonial feel, complete with huge arches and a sloping roof. The guests got out of the car and were made comfortable on the cushioned wicker chairs of the jaali kamra. They were mesmerized by the view of the green mountains and the clear blue skies. The sun lingered on the horizon as if waiting for the closing clouds. They were full of appreciation for the well-kept bungalow and the neatly manicured lawns. That’s when my husband stepped in to entertain the buyer guests as well.
My husband started chatting with the buyers telling them about the nitty-gritty of the art of tea making, promising to take them for a round of the plantation after their cup of tea. I rang the bell and instructed the maid to start brewing the tea. The guests were enjoying the conversation as well as the homemade goodies which included freshly baked cake, cookies and sandwiches, served on white crocheted doilies. The quaint little bungalow and the gentle autumn breeze which was reminiscent of the smell of moist earth, spellbound one of the guests said “It is my first visit to the country,” and she added that she was overwhelmed by the varieties of Indian tea and the tea gardens. The other added that the aroma of the teas that they had been sampling pervaded their senses and they were sure of closing in a good deal here as well.
Meanwhile, since morning, I had been putting my best foot forward to welcome the guests in spite of all the chaos in the kitchen. One of the important bungalow staff had been hospitalized and a new maid had been inducted just two days ago! As all the tea mem-sahibs know, even when things in the kitchen go topsy-turvy, we wear a smile and greet the guests and pride ourselves for the guests not having an inkling about what goes on behind the scenes. To top it all, my hands were full as a dinner had to be organized later that evening with the other executives. However, that was a challenge to be dealt with later; as the present serving of tea demanded my attention.
Though all of us were having a delightful conversation, my thoughts were playing truant and kept running into the kitchen wondering why the maid was taking such a long time although I had demonstrated to her what was to be done, in the morning itself. I excused myself and as I stepped into the kitchen, I saw the maid standing in a nervous and confused demeanour. She asked me to peek in the teapot, in which she had poured boiling water almost ten to fifteen minutes back. As I bent forward and peeked into the pot, she told me the trouble. The brew even after the designated time refused to gain the desired golden colour. I set another pot of water on the stove for the water to boil, chiding the maid for over-boiling the tea or for doing something or the other wrong. I instructed the maid to wash the tea-pot and fill it with a new batch of tea leaf. However, the brew did not gain any colour, even after we had allowed ample time for it to steep.
Considering myself somewhat of a tea connoisseur, after having spent many seasons in the tea gardens, this adamant pot of water, had put even me on my wits’ end. So with a sigh, I decided to get help from the higher authority. I stole my husband from the company of the guests for a few minutes. Grumbling as to what the fuss was all about that it needed his attention, he accompanied me to the kitchen. I opened the lid of the tea-pot and explained to him the predicament. Promptly, he ordered the maid to fetch the sample box of orange fanning tea which he had got that morning. The flustered maid rushed and handed over the box. At a glance, he announced- “How do you expect stupid black mustard seeds to do the job of tea leaf?” and flounced out. I kicked myself hard for missing out on this minute detail despite having seen to the arrangements many a time since morning. The maid giggled and I snubbed her for such a silly blunder which had lead to this episode- 'the episode of brewing tea'.
In retrospect I can say that many a pot of tea have been brewed over the centuries, some malty, some brisk and some aromatic but the tea life undoubtedly is spicy- like a cup of masala chai.