If we were having coffee together..
I’d tell you that I’m not really a coffee person at all. It’s tea that floats my boat. When I wake up in the morning, after I put the children to bed, when I want to hang out with friends, even when I’m bored – it’s a hot cup of tea I reach out for.
Coffee is a little like a chic new friend – the one whose company I enjoy when I’m in the right mood, the one I like to hang out with at restaurants and cafes, the one I like to have around with a plateful of large chocolate chip cookies, a trifle overpriced but delicious.
Coffee, to me, is like a chic new friend while tea is an age-old chum. Share on XTea, on the other hand is a familiar childhood chum. Our friendship began long ago, when my grandmom first spiked my milk with it, behind my mother’s back. I don’t know if it was the tea or the thrill of having outsmarted my mother but the glass of milk went down in a single breath. Many more followed over the years.
If we were having coffee…
I’d tell you of the long dark nights when exam anxiety hung upon me like an ominous cloud. It was the hot mug of ginger tea that sat by my side reassuringly, keeping the sleep monster at bay.
I’d tell you of long days at work when the daily deadline loomed close and the right words eluded me. That tiny glass of kadak cutting chai the canteen boy got me was enough to rejuvenate my creativity.
Oh and how I could I not tell you about the kullhad-wali railway platform chai? I’d tell you of freezing mornings, as I sat bundled up on my berth, with daggers in my throat from the perpetual infection that dogged me through winter. As the train would chug into Delhi station, there really wasn’t any sound sweeter than that of ‘Chaaaeee Garam’. A sip from that kullhad felt as deliciously warm as my mother’s hug, the one I had just left behind.
If we were having coffee
I’d tell you I wasn’t quite sure I liked this new trend of tea going hip – changing colour from a comfortable familiar brown to black and white, green and yellow. I’d wonder why it should feel the need to move from dhabas and canteens to insanely overpriced, stupidly urban tea lounges and tea rooms.
We’d wonder together, you and I.
Perhaps it just got tired of being slotted as the poor roadside cousin of Starbucks and Barista, I’d muse. Perhaps it was its quest for respect, because sometimes being loved isn’t enough. You’d laugh at me for getting sentimental about a cup of tea and I’d laugh along too.
But it’s true, I’d insist.
As for me, I wouldn’t spare a glance for the Chai Lattes as long as I had my hot cup of ginger cardamom tea with a couple of rusks. And I’d ask you your favourite chai memory. Was it on a cool rainy day or a hot summer evening that you fell in love with it?