An invigorating cup of black tea
K S S Pillai
What reassures me that life is worth living is the first glass of black tea (we still follow the old Kerala custom of drinking tea or coffee in a glass instead of a cup) that I get early in the morning.
I have always considered the leisurely sipping of a glass of tea an auspicious beginning of the day. I must have acquired the habit in my childhood, thanks to a relative who worked in a tea-processing plant in Munnar in the neighbouring district and provided us fresh tea-leaves throughout the year.
I am grateful to the breeze that blew the leaves of a wild tea plant into a Chinese emperor’s pot of boiling water that marked the beginning of tea drinking worldwide, a pleasant yet non-expensive habit. It is said that the people of Tibet consume more than fifty cups of tea every day and their etiquette dictates that a guest’s cup of tea should never be empty! And the Japanese are so habituated to the brew that vending machines that dispense bottled tea is a common sight in that country.
In the past, it was a routine for most of the people in my village to make a beeline to the nearest tea-shop early in the morning and order a glass of black tea or black coffee, while going through the day’s newspaper and indulging in an animated discussion about developments in the world.
Very few wanted to dilute the original flavor of the brew by adding milk to it. Another reason might have been the higher cost of tea with milk.
The arrival of tea-bags has made things easier for all concerned. Now there is no possibility of getting too much or too little tea leaves put in my glass. Since the womenfolk at home know my preferred quantity of sugar, their task is now limited to filling the glass with boiling water and keeping a tea-bag dangling over its brim. Even after all these years, I watch with fascination as the colour of water changes slowly from light red to deep red when I dip the bag repeatedly in it.
Getting an invigorating cup of tea during visits to friends and relatives has become rare because of the excessive use of milk to demonstrate, perhaps, their love and concern for my health.
What is handed over to me ultimately turns out to be just milk with very little tea in it and I gulp it down, hoping that the grimace on my face would not be too visible. However, when I visit homes where I can take some liberty, I request them in advance not to add milk to my tea, assuring them that I am simply following my doctor’s advice.
Just as the work-places in the western countries keep black coffee for their staff and visitors, I wish I would be offered a cup of black tea when I visit an office next time and wait for my work to be attended to.
(The author is a retired professor of English. His articles have been published by The Kashmir Vision, The Tribune, The New Indian Express, The Deccan Herald, The Hans India, and elsewhere)
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