Things to Marry

I don’t know what is worse, a really long work week or a quickly evaporated weekend? But I do know that to carry our wandering and hassled souls, to collect our dreary selves from the bin of our files and desktops, just one thing does the trick. This magical potion unites the separated, calms the troubled and energises the meek. It embraces us in various colours, shapes and sizes. Some like it small, but some want to drink it large. Some like to gulp it all by themselves in quiet cosy corners of their homes while some others relish the company of loved ones sharing a lot more than clinks and cheers.

That is how we live under the spell of chai. Every single day.

If you are imagining me holding the hot freshly brewed mug of tea with slowly spreading ecstatic radiance on my face, I should let you know it’s quite the opposite. And the place where I drain the most cups is office, where tea magically tastes different with every sip.

Reasons for tea ache in life are three:

(1)  I brew awful one myself.

(2) My office buoooy makes a soup in the name of chai.

(3) I am far away from friends who once happily galloped their way through my doorway right into the kitchen to make me some tea.

(4)  I am married, which takes us back to point (1).

So, I have a theory. Nonsensical in thought and nature, but I own a list of things I could marry if only we were allowed to. And guess who has overtaken cheese and soft toys, books and clothes? One of the major reasons I married this gentleman is because he makes smokin hot tea, anytime any day. Unlike me, whose tea reflects the mood I am in for that day.

So I could be sulking, roaming with a volcano inside my head, I could be humming a love song, giggling for no reason, I could be up to some mischief or panicky before letting a guest taste the tea I made. As a result, the tea would taste burnt to death or spicy, far too sugary to kill a diabetic, it could even taste like a complete joke, like tea flavoured exotic water or a great dish gone totally wrong respectively.

Days when he gets my friends and me some bed tea!

In order to avoid such calamities of me trying new magic tricks with the kettle and the cups, I find it sensible sucking up to gifted humans who could boil tea leaves in their sleep. The gentleman in the house I spoke about is no easy fish, needs a lot of maska, praises, and complete permission to watch Arnab Goswami talk show at deafeningly high volume. All this for one small cup of much needed love.

At office, we have guided and practically given demonstrations to the office boy to brew some edible form of chai. We have even downloaded and shown him numerous YouTube videos on making chai. We have even tried switching to green tea for no milk tea satiated our taste buds.

But tea remains an unfinished dream.

And then in the midst of doorbells and notifications, I absentmindedly collect some cinnamon and ginger, a hint of sugar and milk, make them meet some water and whooooshhhhh… the accidental but definite thing to marry tastes like the best tea in the world.

All with the best ingredient: Luck.