• Life is like a cup of tea
    A poster at the tea factory

    There’s more to a tea pot than what you thought

    Years ago (almost half a century ago), I remember going with my class to the Tea Board Office at Churchgate, where we were told what went into a pot of tea. As eight-year-olds, we were hardly interested in tea or tea parties. If ever we went to one, we had to mind our p’s and q’s, talk in hushed whispers, nibble at the cucumber sandwiches, and politely decline the second slice of cake while our mums sipped tea from delicate bone china cups. Luckily, we had hot chocolate instead.

    Not just a cup of tea

    But what I do remember after all these years is how to make a good pot of tea.

    “Rinse the pot in boiling water before adding one teaspoon of tea for each person and an extra one for the pot.

    Then pour the required amount of boiling hot water, put the lid on tight and let it steep or brew for five minutes before pouring out each cup.

    Tea should be drunk without any milk or sugar, but if milk is a must, then only a drop of cold milk will do.”

    Now in an Indian household, these instructions are like water off a duck’s back. In most kitchens, a pot of tea would be boiling for at least five minutes after the leaves are added and for another two after the milk is added so that you get a nice, strong brew. This is the cup that we all want. Strong, robust chai. One where you dip in your biscuit or khari, one which you pour into a saucer and blow over to cool before slurping it noisily and letting out an ‘aaah’ of pure satisfaction .

    How to really Make a cup of tea

    Well, all these years of slurpy chai went for a toss when I visited the Kannan Devan Hills Plantation Tea Museum at Munnar. Formerly known as Tata-Finlay, this tea company is unique in that a large part of the shareholding belongs to the workers!

    Tea was known to India before the British, but it was only the British who cultivated this plant and introduced the chai culture.

    Brought to the Kannan Devan hills, by the British in the 1870s, the high ranges of Munnar produce some of the best teas in the world.

    Since photography at the museum is prohibited, I kept my phone in my pocket and admired instead the artefacts from planters’ homes, concentrated on the documentary and the visit to the factory.

    The highlight for us, of course was tasting the tea.

    The Tea Taster took us through a variety of teas, ranging from White Tea, which is the most expensive as it is made from the tender leaves in bud form. These are naturally sun-dried and produce a light liquor when brewed, to the tea dust or powder that is much loved by roadside tea vendors.

    The Green Tea is the second pair of leaves and is mechanically dried. But it is only rolled and produces a liquor with more colour. Both these teas are NOT to be drunk on an empty stomach and NEVER with a spot of milk, she told us.

    Thereafter, the lower leaves are used to produce black tea that is either Orthodox or Crushed Torn and Curled.

    Tea leaves that are gently rolled and regain their shape upon brewing make up Orthodox or English breakfast.This delicately tinted tea is light and flavourful. You could add a spot of milk but remember it must be cold and literally not more than a drop !

    The CTC that is most popular is robust having gone through a process of cutting, tearing and curling. These tiny leaves are graded size wise. This can make a strong black tea. We were also treated to flavoured teas and were asked to guess what the flavours were.

    No visit is complete without a look at the shop. I highly recommend the preserves that are made by the specially challenged, the chocolates and of course the various teas.

    not without the tata’s

    Even though Tat-Finlay no longer exists, the Tata’s have a large presence in Munnar.

    Tata’s High Range Hospital provides affordable healthcare to its workers and is open to the local populace, too. It runs a CBSE school. for the children of its employees. Tata’s also run a special centre called Shristi, which educates and rehabilitates the children who are specially challenged, training them in skills that can make them financially independent.

    So the next time you drink a cup of tea, especially if it’s a Tetley’s, remember that there is more than just tea leaves that go into a pot of tea.

    Ciao

  • GROWING UP

    GROWING UP

    I read somewhere that a person only grows up when they lose their parents. If this is true, both my brother and I grew up only last year. We became ADULT ORPHANS.

    We are both very close in age; he is a year and a half younger than I, and we grew up almost like twins. We went to the same school, knew each other’s friends and even thought alike at times. Although he is more outgoing and carefree than I am, our shared childhood experiences bind us together, just as they do all siblings who grow up together.

    Last year, both our parents passed away within three months of each other, and suddenly, as grandparents, we found ourselves grown up. We were probably the few people our age who still had both parents around for so long. Luckily, both parents were in good health till almost the last few months of their lives.

    Since my brother and his family lived with my parents, he and his wife landed up being their primary care givers. It was hard for me to make my parents understand that my brother was also in his mid-sixties and couldn’t go up and down the staircase a hundred times a day just to get a mobile phone they’d forgotten. My mother whose energy was boundless couldn’t understand why I felt tired or didn’t want to push myself more.

    Missing them

    The last year has been hard for me to accept the fact that they are no more. My mum was the first person I spoke to every morning while both of us were on our morning walk. Needless to say, my morning walk has become irregular since she has passed. I’ve tried to replace my conversation with EMPIRE a podcast by Anita Anand and William Dalrymple. Needless to say, nothing can compare with a daily chat.

    My Dad was my go-to Doctor because he was the only person who listened to my daily whines about my ‘health’. I have no one really to humour me these days because doctors are always short of time. I am a self-confessed hypochondriac and once wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps. So every now and then, I try to figure out why something is going wrong and only my dad would patiently listen.

    Of course, my parents had their faults – my father had a foul temper and he would literally have tantrums when things didn’t go his way.

    And my mother would often put me on a guilt trip with her ‘poor me victim tales’ or stories about the success of other friends’ children or cousins.

    LETTING GO

    But I miss my interactions with them. For many months , they would appear in my dreams. The dreams would be bizarre but they always appeared to be reassuring me. Sometimes, of course, they would admonish me.

    Oftentimes when I caught myself looking at myself in the mirror, I felt it was my mum who was smiling at me. And sometimes when I looked at my swollen ankles, I would think of my dad.

    These fleeting moments would fill me with sorrow and I would actually feel a hollow in my stomach. But no tears would flow -just an inexplicable sadness would engulf me completely.

    Earlier this year, I was visiting their home when, on our way out, there was a loud crash from their empty bedroom. My brother and I rushed upstairs to find wooden stand on which my mum kept her gods, in pieces. All the hooks were intact and there was no way it could have fallen. So what exactly happened ?

    What was the message in this strange occurrence? Was it my parents’ final goodbye? Or, was it a message that they weren’t happy with what we were doing? Had we missed doing something that they wanted us to do?

    Ours was never a family that believed in rituals so we never observed any of the practices that Hindus perform on the death of a person. My parents wouldn’t have wanted that either. But that nagging thought kept persisting- did they secretly want any rituals to be performed ?

    I consulted a psychic and even visited a therapist. They both assured me that this was a part of the grieving process. Missing a person was normal. Grieving for them was also normal. Feelings of sadness were normal too .

    In order to cope, I would call my brother from time to time and share memories we had of our parents. Only he and I could laugh about it.

    Today, it is exactly a year since my father passed away, so I think it is finally time to let go and grow up.

    img_9442
    Being given a formal salute by the Navy

    So goodbye mum and dad .

    I hope you are happy wherever you are.

    Ciao

    Unishta

  • Day trip to Munnar

    Day trip to Munnar

    You may wonder why we chose to do so.

    Actually, we had planned a relaxed, leisurely three-day break in the lush green hill station of Munnar, in God’s Own Country or Kerala.


    Ever since Anna Shetty came back from a short vacation to Munnar, raving about the lovely stay she’d had at the High Range Club, we thought it would be a great destination for a three-day break.

    So the day after Diwali, we got up bright and early to catch the morning flight to Kochi, the nearest airport, as there is no way you can directly go to Munnar except by road.

    img_9317

    The High Range Club, an original colonial gem that served as a home away from home for the Planters who lived in the Kannan Devan Hills

    First off, the flight from Mumbai to Kochi was a morning flight which meant that we had to be at the airport around 8.30 am. Working backwards, we woke up at 6 so that we could leave by 7.15. This was my first attempt at DigiYatra, and I was thrilled with the seamless check-in at Mumbai’s Terminal 1. Luckily, the flight left on time and reached a few minutes ahead of schedule. Kochi’s new airport was swanky as was the taxi waiting for us outside. and the taxi waiting for us outside. The driver was polite, and as we sat in the car, we felt that we were off to a good start.

    Well, the road to Munnar is being repaired, but the roadwork and ensuing traffic was well managed. We had asked the driver to find us a place for a quick lunch and he stopped at a wayside eatery Al Madeena where we had a sumptuous meal of a Kingfish Kerala style fried in a banana leaf. Paired with fresh, hot toddy hoppers or appam, we couldn’t have asked for a more auspicious welcome.

    As we climbed the long and winding road, we were enthralled by the small towns, thick tropical forest with warning signs of Elephant crossing , gushing waterfalls and busy small towns. The three and half hours with steep, hairpin bends went by quickly enough.

    Along the way, as we came closer to Munnar, we spotted several new ‘resorts’ offering adventurous Jeep rides in the jungle, zip lining and sky cycling. We even came across a hot air balloon. Not for us, we thought, we were interested in a quiet relaxed holiday in the environs of the genteel High Range Club, Even though we weren’t planning on any Golf, we had planned a three-day trip with lots of walks, some local sightseeing and meeting up with the Planters, whose club this basically was and chit-chatting with the other residents.

    The sky was growing darker, and the hills in the distance were being swallowed up by thick clouds. It looked beautiful: tall eucalyptus trees reaching out for the sky, terraced tea gardens making undulating patterns in the rolling hills.

    By the time we reached the club, the drizzle had turned into a veritable downpour, and the last half mile or so was such a bad road that it made Mumbai’s pot holes seem like mere pimples on a bad day.

    We entered the Club premises, which looked strangely deserted. And when we got down, we were in for a shock. There was not a soul to be seen. There were no signs of a Reception, an office or even a human being! We sent our driver to check out, and he found a kitchen boy who showed him Reception next door. A bearer came with him and asked us to reload the car with our bags as he took us to the cottages that we were booked in.

    Having recently had an experience of a room far from the main building, this set alarm bells ringing.

    But we were reassured by the fact that the room was not too far and the slope very gradual. The room itself was large, as was the bathroom. The enclosed verandah looked cosy with a breakfast table and two armchairs. The room was welcoming a huge double bed, a large cupboard, a luggage rack, a dressing table and a coffee table with four comfortable armchairs. It even had a fireplace with the tea and coffee caddies placed on the mantelpiece. Save for the television and electric kettle, and of course the electric lights, it could have well been a room from an earlier time. With its lace curtains on the windows and polished wooden floors, it was the perfect room to spend a month or two.

    DISAPPOINTMENT SOON SETS IN

    By the time we settled in, it was tea time and we asked for a pot of tea, hot chocolate and some cheese sandwiches. Alas! We soon found that there was no cheese so we had to do with jam sandwiches instead.

    We were quite exhausted and wanted to have dinner in the room. But we soon found out that not only was room service not an option, nor was there an a la carte menu to choose from. We had to go to the dining room where all meals were buffet style. And if it was raining, ask for an umbrella.

    The dining room

    We were a bit disappointed to see the bare tables.and the deserted dining room. But the big vase of luscious colourful roses cheered us up. Luckily, the serving bowls on the buffet table were full and we were free to help ourselves to a chicken curry, dal, celery soup, parathas, rice, a vegetable dish and some curds. For dessert there was a chocolate cake and a jug of fresh cream. By and by, the other residents wandered in, but there was none of the friendly chatter I had expected to experience.

    While Prima Donna and I enjoyed the meal (I particularly enjoyed the fiery hot pepper water or rasam) had enough to eat, Ms Papaya went hungry as the food was too spicy for her palate. We walked home in the gentle drizzle and quickly got into bed hoping that the next day would be brighter and better.

    DAY 2 :

    We got up refreshed but the sky was still overcast.

    We had a quick bath because the water was cold and brownish. And the newly refurbished bathroom lacked a clothes stand and towel hooks to use while we bathed.

    We had checked out the weather forecast before breakfast and realised that the rain wasn’t going to let up at all. Perhaps it would make more sense to cut short our trip and go to Kochi instead.

    Luckily, our local driver cum guide turned out to be a real gem and he took us around the sights, but by lunch time, we had made up our minds to go back home as Kochi didn’t promise to be any drier.

    So after a quick lunch of toast and tea ( the only thing available at the club since we had opted out of lunch for the day), we changed our tickets to come back to Mumbai after just a day in Munnar.

    That is how we made a day trip to Munnar!

    Ciao

    THE LAST WORD

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started