The ‘Taste’ of Tea

by Sudipta Bhattacharjee 

A note from the editor: Some friends asked me if the blog was still a going concern, because they hadn't seen many posts going up since the year began. Here's what I said to them: 'I don't pester people to send me stories. If they have one to tell, I know they will send it in. A story can't be produced on demand. It has to come straight from the heart.'
Sudipta Bhattacharjee's does just that. Thank you, Sudipta. Cheers!

My first acquaintance with a tea garden was at Kakajan in Upper Assam, when I was four years old. Hazy memories of a lush garden firmed up five years later, when we visited my maternal uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta, then manager at Majuli Tea Estate (then owned by Finlay) in Udalguri, Assam.

The drive from Guwahati airport whetted our appetites and as we neared our destination, the sylvan expanse of tea bushes filled us with a delicious sense of anticipation. Alongside the driveway there was a swing, which became a favourite haunt over the next few days.

My uncle had two dogs, a German Shepherd called Rex and a Cocker Spaniel, curiously named Tipu Sultan. I was so terrified of canines at the time that I steered clear of both. They were perfectly well-behaved pets but I always kept a wary eye on them as we gorged on the most delicious snacks at tea-time, served with typical garden fanfare.

The children were, of course, not allowed to sample the celebrated brew whose “liquor” and “aroma” the grown-ups extolled. We were served large glasses of milk that we abhorred. I once tried to taste some tea from my mother’s cup, but one stern look from my aunt, Tanima, put paid to such ambitions.

Young Sudipta gets her prize for topping the class!

One day, I was sitting on the swing engrossed in a Noddy book, when I saw my uncle approaching me, Tipu in his arms. When I looked up, he promptly put Tipu on my lap! I screamed, Tipu yelped; no prizes for guessing who was more petrified. Uncle very patiently picked up the pup and put him back on my lap. “Hold him, he won’t bite,” he instructed. I put my quivering arms around the warm ball of fur and was won over for life.

My uncle was so pleased with the success of his mission that he asked me what I would like as a prize. I said I would like to visit the tea factory. A planter to the core, he not only kept his promise but ensured a conducted tour. The resultant impact on a curious nine-year-old was an overwhelming desire to taste the forbidden brew. If it was only dried and rolled leaves, why could we not sample it?

As luck would have it, a tea taster arrived at the garden during our visit, generating a flurry of activity. It appeared to be a momentous occasion; we picked up the sombre vibes and the general alacrity with which the staff reacted. The situation was further compounded because a herd of elephants had trumpeted around the bungalow that night.

All this provided me with the ideal opportunity to finally quench my curiosity. Since my uncle and aunt appeared preoccupied with their official guest, I had ample time to approach my mother’s morning cup of cheer and take a guilt-ridden gulp! Oh, the disappointment! It tasted worse than our cocoa-flavoured milk!

Decades later, having learnt to savour the garden brew enough to distinguish the first flush from the second, we came across a tea taster during a visit to Darjeeling. In the course of our conversation on silver tips and oolong, he invited us to observe him at work the following morning.

It was an experience of a lifetime, the sight of the little bowls arrayed on the table as he moved from one to the other, sampling the brew and marking it. We marveled at the skill and expertise it entailed. When he finished his ceremonious trial, he asked us to try it for ourselves. As avowed tea drinkers now, it made our day.

To think it all began when a frisky little tea garden pup was unceremoniously dumped on my lap!

Meet the writer:

 Sudipta is a career journalist who joined The Telegraph in Kolkata as a trainee in 1985 and retired at the end of August as Resident Editor (Northeast). She moved to Shillong in 1992 after her husband was transferred to Meghalaya on a three-year posting and continued to report for The Telegraph from there. She travelled to the United States on a Fulbright Research Fellowship in 2004-5 and returned to base thereafter. Her tryst with tea gardens began as a four-year-old to Kakajan in Upper Assam, where her uncle, Sukumar (Dhruba) Sengupta was posted. She and her family visited him in Majuli Tea Estate in Assam in 1970 and 1973 and by herself in December 1975 to the Dooars, when he was posted at Damdim Tea Estate. She has visited gardens in Darjeeling (where a tea tasting session was hosted for her), the Nilgiris and Munnar, Sri Lanka and hopes to share her experiences through this blog, of which she is an avid follower.

Sudipta is now adjunct professor of media science and journalism at Brainware University. 

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My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, maybe long, short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. You will find yourself transported to another world! 
 
Happy reading! Cheers to the spirit of Indian Tea!
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