I woke up to a beautiful day, unlike the past couple of days when the sun did not wake up at all and the rains were having a ball. Not really a rain girl, I would rather laze in my warm settee than to enjoy the rhetoric of the rains.
It was early in the morning and the sun was already looking so beautiful. Series of memories visited me and made me unusually nostalgic. I handled my white and gold rim ceramic cup just filled with semi fuming Darjeeling tea with little milk and sugar. I like it with milk, I always have. Over the years, my taste for tea has changed, grown and have substantiated me. I have been a tea drinker ever since my late teens. My grandma, an addict and a beautiful heart, was the first to rise and make her and the family the first cup of tea. She only used to get going after her first cup. I, essentially being her flower child, used to love the little sips that would made me feel like her, more than anything else. Tea got me to its clings, literally, much later. I would love the masala chai loaded with sugar and milk. That was a phase which had its lovely moments. As I grew up, I found tea more enigmatic. The flavors are variant, distinctive and appealing.
Grandma left the legacy of tea drinking to me. In my family, now, it’s only my father and I, who relish the idea of morning and evening teas, teas for different occasions and weathers. We love everything that is good tea and how it is served. I believe in that the flavor changes or enhances with the right kind of serving containers. So, I stress on the right kind of cups for a different kinds of teas. My mother hardly drinks tea but has specializes on the art of making it on my insistence. I am picky when it comes to tea. My sisters and their family are occasional tea drinkers – something I appreciate. But when they are visiting us, I manage to tempt them to some relishing cups of tea. The idea of having it all together is really alluring and great fun. We serve it with lots of cookies, Indian snacks, love and gossips.
Things have changed over the years, we have metamorphosed, father has gone more bald, I have had my first grey hair sneaking out every now and then and grandma is no more. But our love for good tea is one good constant factor that has still gotten us all together to the morning tea table over a beautiful tea drinking ritual.