Tiny Tea Tales: Deliverance
"It’s come to be that my chai is a wellspring of assurances, not just flavours"
I have never been the one to get birthday blues - I have always looked forward to them with great excitement and joy. But about a month before my 26th, I found myself down with a major case of the blues.
In those weeks leading up to my birthday, many an evening was spent walking up to my terrace and just crying, not quite knowing what I was crying about.
It wasn't until after a particularly embarrassing night of drowning my sorrows in alcohol that I realized I needed to get a hold of myself. So the next evening, a few days before the red letter day, I decided to disconnect - from your usual set of screens and social media - and collect myself armed with a ‘me’ type of chai.
What's a ‘me’ type of chai, you ask? It's the one that only I know how to make for myself - a recipe that while seemingly tedious is deeply personal and wholly loved by my body and mind.
I start by pouring 1.5 cups of water - a little more than necessary for all those extra emotions brewing inside of me. This is also to let the tea leaves take their time as I take mine to decide on a song that can go with the current mood.
Next, I put in a generous teaspoon of my go-to Red Label Natural Care tea, and as soon as its leaves combine with the water, a bittersweet scent rises and fuses with the air, creating a heady atmosphere that somehow reminds me of home. Perhaps it's the tea, perhaps it is the act. I can’t say for sure.
And then comes my favourite part.
In go a bunch of spices, a mix I have perfected over the last two years, their order a sacred little secret.
I start by adding one whole green cardamom, a clove, and a crushed pepper kernel. Sharp but warm, these three flavours are as much about what they do for the taste as it is about what they remind my soul - that comfort does not have to be earned. That I do not need to prove myself worthy of completing those parts that feel lonely, the ones that don’t get a hug or a shoulder to cry on when needed. I was worthy. I am worthy.
Then goes in some freshly grated ginger, for a burst of fresh earthiness to ground my thoughts in the present.
A pinch of cinnamon, nutmeg, and black cardamom powder follow right after - the kindest flavours I know. They collect me in the sweet realization and warm assurances of how far I have come.
As the tea simmers, I sprinkle in some black pepper powder, an odd choice some would argue but a trick I learned during my stay at a small village in Rajasthan some years ago. I’ve found this time-honoured tradition that guarantees to decongest your sinuses proves just as effective in clearing mental chaos. Perhaps it's all the pepper. Perhaps it's the assurance of a time-tested tradition. I don’t quite concern myself with the reasons - a feeling is a feeling.
And finally, I toss in a small spoonful of fennel seeds - a cooling flavour to balance all the warmth in the cup and the whirlwind in the mind, quietly anchoring my soul and spirit in the promise that all the hope I need is in me; that I am, in fact, enough.
That evening, I made myself this ‘me’ type of chai and headed to the terrace - a full mug in one hand, and a pen and notepad in the other.
In the temporal and tactical comforts laid out by the flavours and the terrace air, with every sip of the chai, I poured my heart into those pages. While the contents of that night’s pouring are not meant for the wider public, this exercise was a good reminder of why it was important to take the time to do things that were just so me.
You see, I am the giver, in any relationship. You know that friend who goes out of their way to make you feel loved and comfortable? That’s me. I am not complaining, nor trying to brag - it is, after all, my love language and one of my biggest strengths. It’s just that I rarely give myself this kind of attention and care.
But because I tend to lose myself in others - whether it's a partner, a friend, a parent or even a temporary crush - I can see how it takes a lot out of me. Because I give so generously, I can see how sometimes I forget where the line is for myself. Because I so easily lose myself in all this doing, thinking, and feeling - for others - I stop being myself.
And so I turn to acts that unfailingly help me find my way back to what feels like “being myself” and, among others, that includes sitting on my terrace, drinking a mugful of my chai.
I can’t say my birthday blues were completely cured that day. But the sips of that chai - my chai - sure helped pull apart some weeds from my mind, clearing the (head)space for my thoughts, my hopes and my aspirations.
- Bee, 26, India
Baker in an alternate univere, trying to be an adult in this one.
‘Tiny Tea Tales’ is a weekly column, featuring stories submitted by tea lovers.
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