Of Diwali and the joys of the bed tea...

As a child I remember.. the manner in which my mom woke me up was…well different, she used to prepare this concoction which was a mixture of three parts milk and one part of elaichi tea. I used to wake up to my mom’s call of “Chinoo”, not actually wake up since my eyes would not be open to see where the glass was, it was more like I would be in a sitting position ready to drink what was given to me.

The flavor of that mixture used to decide the mood of the first part of my day. As of this day, I have been out of touch with this ritual for close to 14 years, but it all came back to me on the after diwali morning. I was sleeping like a log in the coziest of beds and the coolest of winds on the seventh floor of a high rise in Bangalore, having blasted some real good crackers the previous night on the eve of Diwali. The Hosts for me this time were Pradeep Sonthalia’s Bhaiya n Bhabhi and I have to say they are a wonderful couple. Their made up fights reminded me so much about the funny interactions of my parents. But coming back to the bed tea part, I was sleeping and all of a sudden I heard Bhabhi’s voice saying “ Manan Bhaiya”, I woke up and found bhabhi standing in the room with a tea cup in her hand, it was at this moment that all the memories came rushing to me, it was a moment before I could take the cup from her, all I could manage to say was “ Bhabhi, u will spoil me” to which she said “ I wont, u are here just for 2 days”.

It has been a really long time since I was offered a bed tea, but what strikes me as disturbing is that I have forgotten the simple pleasure that it is. For me, now a tea in the morning simply means a walk to the tea stall near college in the scorching sun, and an indifferent shop owner saying “Tea Saaaar”.

God only knows how many more such pleasures I have forgotten over the years and need to be reminded of. But at the same time I confess, I hope I have many such forgotten pleasures to be rediscovered in the times to come, the feeling of stumbling upon some such pleasure is worth the anxiety of having forgotten one.


A simple pleasure lost and found,
A feeling sets in, makes no sound,
It takes me over, makes me bound,
Of the olden roads, I take a round.

A simple pleasure, lost and found,
A simple pleasure so profound.