A CUP OF GARAM CHAAI- Real life story

No,I am not going to write an essay on tea,as the title suggests. I would however like to point out a small thing centering round this  'historic’ commodity. Long time back, there were talks in the high profile centre of power that tea should be declared a National Drink. This sudden thought of the higher ups elicited wide public opinion and some news papers even published editorial comments in support of this sudden development. So far as I remember, the idea of tea as a National drink was not new at all. Many years before I happened to see an advertisement on tea which clearly stated in bold letters as “ TEA IS OUR NATIONAL DRINK” Researchers on the subject may be able to throw light on the matter.  I do not remember whether the Ad was put up by any govetrnment body or otherwise. Whatever it is,  I have something quite different to tell, though it’s theme also has the aroma of this wonder commodity  that comes to us from the legendary “ two leaves and a bud”.
Ten years back, to be sure, in October 2011, I had the opportunity of visiting some places in Gujarat. That included Dwarka, Shomnath and Porbander. Somewhere at a mandir premises, I met a family who in course of casual “thought exchange” asked us( my wife and my son), for a cup of tea and enquired about the price of tea in Assam and quality of tea we consume  at home and such other things that concerned tea. Before parting, I promised them of sending a little tea from Assam.  I took their address and left.

My return to home took more than a month and during this period I was mostly thinking as to how soon I could send them the promised tea packet. And I found the time on the Christmas day next and sent the packet , writing their address very carefully so that it does not get lost on the way.Sending a parcel involves a lot of work. First buying or finding a proper piece of white cloth, thread and needle, stitching the packet, seal the stitches with lac, writing the address distinctly, go to the post office, stand in the que there and finally  let the postal clerk give  the receipt. The first part being  over,it is up to you whether to worry or not, about the lot of the parcel. As for myself, I did not worry but visualised the scene of that family getting the packet sent by a stranger from a far away place covering a distance of over two thousand kilometres. A strange kind of happiness occupied my mind thinking of a peculiar human relationship of that kind.
There is no possibility of my meeting that family again in a remote Gujarat village again nor does that family will ever have any contact with me. The only bridge between me and them will  always be the aroma of the tea I sent them that day.The thought of being able to keep my word and fulfilling  their small desire itself brought me such a kind of happiness which I will possibly not forget in life.

(The author is a senior writer, journalist and a story teller, e mail. aswini.k.boruah@gmail.com)