Black tea

by Rohan Sadadekar (India)

I didn't expect to find India

Indians love tea. And they don't drink it the way Westerners do. They will add a lot of sugar and milk in it. Sometimes even ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and mint leaves! The Indian chai is something that is revered. I think, the only reason someone might have tea without milk in India would be because they cannot afford it. And I have seen such love and admiration for the 'chai' across India on my travels that I have slowly shifted from being a coffee person to a tea person in the past years. Since my college days, I had always been keen on gathering different experiences and that continued in my work life too. While my colleagues swarmed the malls and cinema halls on weekends or spent their Sundays on bean bags munching on chips and watching Netflix, I always headed to gain some different and raw experience – sometimes trekking the Sahyadris and other times speeding my Thunderbird to faraway destinations. I loved to spend time in nature, meet local people and experience their lives. On one such excursion, I met Naroba. I had been riding since daybreak and it was almost noon when I reached this little village called Khokarmoha in Beed district of Maharashtra. It was May and the earth was blazing hot. For about an hour, I had not encountered a soul on the road, not even a tree. And then I had found this small settlement. It was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert. My water bottle was empty and I stopped at a house asking the woman to re-fill it. The house was made of bamboo and mud, with a thatched roof of coconut leaves. As the woman went in, I took a peep inside the house. There was hardly space for four people in there, with a small stove, a few charred and deformed utensils, a trunk which probably contained some clothes and a photo of Lord Ganesha kept on the trunk. I was deeply moved by the adverse conditions in which these people lived. The woman filled my bottle and handed it to me. Removing my riding jacket and gloves, I started gulping down the water like a maniac. “One shouldn’t gulp water in a haste. Please sit and drink slowly.” She said indicating towards the ‘khatiya’. Just then a thin figure in a dhoti and a soiled shirt arrived at the door, with a stack of firewood on his head. He dropped the stack on the ground and seeing me, joined his hands near his chest in a ‘Namaste’ gesture. “Put some tea on the stove, Meera,” he called out to his wife, “we shouldn’t let the guest leave without having something!” And he sat on the ground wiping his forehead with a cloth. He introduced himself as Naroba. “What brings you here, sir, in this scorching heat of the summer?” he asked. “I love riding,” I told him. “I love exploring places and meeting new people.” I was not sure he understood it. The look on his face said – What stupidity is that? Why would one leave the comforts of his home and venture out in the sun aimlessly! I tried to explain to him that I loved to seek authentic rural experiences. By that time, his wife had brought tea for us. “The tea is black, sir. Please excuse us.” He said handing me a cup. “It’s fine.” I smiled. “I don’t mind having black tea.” I had somehow expected this, given their condition. “So what do you do Naroba?” I asked taking a sip of the black tea. “We don’t have any jobs in this village, sir. Neither do we own any land for farming. All I have in my possession are two cows.” He said taking a sip. “I sell milk for a living, sir. I sell milk.” There was a lump in my throat. The irony struck me like a thunderbolt. They dealt with milk every day, but could not even afford to spare a cup for themselves! They did not have that luxury. I somehow finished the tea. I tried to offer some money while leaving, but Naroba politely declined.