THE ART OF TEA MAKING

It was a wet Saturday evening and I had just woken up, refreshed. My afternoon siesta had been extended (unintentionally!) well into the evening. Feeling both virtuous and adventurous, I resolved to spring a pleasant surprise on mother – I decided to prepare the evening tea before she returned home from work. I am no novice at tea making, having done so quite a few times, under mother’s supervision. With such encouraging thoughts, I made my way to the kitchen. I mentally listed out the required ingredients- tea powder, milk, sugar, water. Commending myself for recalling everything, I thought ,”This is extremely simple. My tea is going to be excellent.”
I examined the steel utensils in the kitchen with a critical eye. A wide variety of shapes and sizes were available to choose from. After some deliberation, I selected one which was aesthetically appealing and which would suffice for the volume of tea needed. I filled it with water, lighted the gas stove and placed it reverentially on top of the fire. Next was the unenviable task of extracting the tea powder from among the countless tins of multi-coloured powders stacked on the shelves. Since I am well-informed on all matters concerning eatables, I was soon able to narrow down my search to two identical brown-hued powders. One was coffee and the other was tea and I hadn’t the faintest idea which was which. How was I to overcome this dilemma?
Now here I had a real brainwave. My olfactory senses had to be brought to the fore. I sniffed at each one in turn and was instantly able to distinguish the two. I added a few spoonfuls of my hard-found tea powder to the water. I trusted my intuitions and concluded that the precise number of spoonfuls had been added. I watched the tiny brown tea particles darting about in the hot water with pride. To protect my precious tea from undesirable contaminants, I covered it with a plate.
Subsequently, I looked about for milk. After a frantic search lasting a good ten minutes, it was ultimately discovered inside the fridge, in a covered container. Admonishing myself for failing to do it earlier, I swiftly ignited the other stove and deposited the milk container atop the blue flames.
Satisfied, I was smiling gleefully when a hissing sound emanating from the heated tea water grabbed my attention. “Ah, it is boiling. Let it boil for a little while,” muttering thus, I found the sugar and strainer and wisely kept those on the ready. By this time, the afore - mentioned hissing noises had become more prominent, compelling me to turn around. I watched horrified, as the tea boiled over and started overflowing. I hurriedly turned off the stove and surveyed the damage. To my relief, only a meagre quantity had been spilt. The only outcome of this disaster was the additional burden of some tiresome cleaning.
Just then, some peculiar sounds (alarmingly similar to the previous one), originating from the milk vessel this time, reached my ears. Foreseeing more destruction, I hastened to turn off the stove a second time. Heaving a sigh of relief that all the noises had ceased, I flopped into a chair, exhausted. After a brief rest, I resumed my arduous tea- prepration with renewed vigour.
I selected a large vessel and positioned the strainer over it. Next, with utmost caution, I lifted the boiled tea and poured it into the vessel through the strainer. Now the milk had to be added. With some apprehension, I unscrewed the lid of the steaming milk container. Grey, translucent fumes rushed out of it. The sides of the vessel had been transformed into a brown-black colour. Obviously, it had been burnt by overheating. (Later, my mother informed me that that vessel was not supposed to be heated by fire!! Apparently, it was a storage vessel.). Trying not to glance at the brown patches, I started pouring the milk into the tea. My knowledge of the colour of tea was my sole guide to the quantity if milk required. I persevered with the process of milk addition till the liquid acquired the appearance of tea.
With the addition of a few spoonfuls of sugar, my tea was complete. After stirring the mixture, I doled out a spoonful and tasted it nervously. “It is deficient in sugar”, my taste buds screamed. Swiftly, I enhanced the sugar content, stirred the tea and tasted it again. Now it was just right. Pleased with my efforts, I quickly washed up the dishes and tidied up the stove.
The final outcome of this experiment of mine was some truly delicious tea (though my brother remarked that it was a tad too sweet). Also, my brave attempt drew appreciation from my mother. With repeated practice, I have now gained considerable expertise in the art of tea making.