A potful of tea memories

I stayed in Mumbai (then Bombay) for a few months in 1980. I admired its high-rise buildings and was impressed by the efficiency of the local trains. I also relished the chai and bun maska (bread and butter) in Irani cafes. It was a mesmerising experience for a youth from Dehradun.

Once, curiosity led me to visit the restaurant of a five-star hotel at Nariman Point, next to the sea. The gracefully designed restaurant had huge glass panes on the exterior walls, and one could enjoy the scenic view of Marine Drive, the Arabian Sea and the distant Malabar Hill while savouring delicacies. I ordered tea, the cheapest item available on the menu. It was served by a well-dressed waiter. The tea had a wonderful taste and aroma. I desired to have another cup, but the cost of Rs 5, a big amount at the time, deterred me.

A couple of months later, destiny brought me to Chandigarh. Gradually, I developed a liking for the city’s greenery and landscape. During this period, an acquaintance asked me to provide home tuition to a boy and his sister who were on a three-month winter break from their boarding school. The siblings were cute and well-mannered, but they considered me a spoilsport for their holidays and hence were initially less receptive. However, subsequently, they started enjoying the lessons.

On my first day on the job, as I was getting to know them and discussing their interests, the maid appeared with a cup of tea. When I picked it up, I sensed a familiar aroma, the same that I had experienced at the Mumbai restaurant. It was an unanticipated delicacy, a windfall. The fragrant tea served daily worked as a stimulant, and I hardly missed a day with the children. Once, the maid forgot to serve tea, and that day I had a recurring sense of having missed something. The three-month period passed quickly, and the time to bid farewell to the tea and the children approached, leaving me with a heavy heart. While taking leave, I enquired from the siblings’ parents about the tea leaves. They said, ‘We get it from London.’

About 25 years later, I revisited Mumbai, this time with my younger son. I shared with him the story of the tea I had enjoyed in the Mumbai restaurant, and he expressed a desire to visit it the next day. We travelled by a crowded local train to Churchgate and then walked along Marine Drive to reach the place.

Returning to the restaurant was a pleasant and nostalgic experience. We ordered tea and snacks. However, the cost of a cup of tea had risen to Rs 150. What’s worse, the aroma and the taste that I longed for were missing. While my son enjoyed it, I could not, as taste buds and memories have strong, lifelong links.