Tea time
tales:
That intangible fragrance of tea leaves withering in gigantic troughs always left me nostalgic . Having spent all of my childhood days on the periphery of a large tea factory, this particular aroma cushioned my days in warmth , security and
a sense of belonging. It was a fresh, clean, vibrant, grassy,
vegetal and earthy air that we breathed. The large troughs had immense big
industrial fans at one end, and by late
evenings when the trough were filled with freshly harvested green leaves from
the estates , the fans were turned on full blast. The whirring sound was loud to the ears and normal decibel of conversation was raised a notch higher. The
blast of air which cooled the leaves would easily reach our humble settlements. In the
intense heat of Assam summer nights the breeze from the fans brought much needed cool relief and many story telling sessions extended far
into the night under starlit skies. Life
with its certain quirks and turns deposited me far away from this idyllic
settings . Confused and cut off from all things familiar the child in me
adapted soon while dreams and stories merged
somewhere at the back of the mind. Several years passed before I found myself trotting
back home. Down the same road
which seemed to have shrunk, it
was that familiar magical fragrance of fresh withered tea leaves which struck me like a well aimed
punch to the gut as I dissolved into the arms of my waiting Ma. Things
have come a long way since then and I am fortunate to be breathing the same
aroma of freshly harvested tea leaves
being withered to the exact texture so that a perfect cup of golden brew can be
relished somewhere beyond. Someone had rightly said, Tea embraces and connects
anyone who wants to be connected.
