The glass divide

On several occasions I am forced to say no to my favourite beverage — tea — for I fear the adjective ‘kadak’ (strong). You see, I like my tea prepared and served in the right royal way.

On several occasions I am forced to say no to my favourite beverage — tea — for I fear the adjective ‘kadak’ (strong). You see, I like my tea prepared and served in the right royal way. Tea brewing under the tea-cosy in this world of tea bags may bring a smile to some people’s lips, but my smile is redeemed only with the first sip of that perfect cuppa.

I had a friend who could be a contender for enlistment in The Guinness Book of World Records for his consumption of tea on a daily basis. Our meetings were always marked by the exchange of a cup of tea that was the signature beverage of the tea joint quite popular with my friend, his comrades and their ilk. The tea sold at the joint was excessively sweet and strong. When offered a glass of the brew, I would bravely gulp it down.

Although my favourites were Chekhov and Ayn Rand, my friend never wearied of sending me loads of literature relating to Mao and Che. This helped me assimilate the intellectual traditions of both sides of the class divide but I was not certain to which side I belonged.

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Now for him it was time to spread his gospel. He chose to head for a new destination and came to see me. He spoke in a rather sermonising tone about how he, having qualified from an acclaimed university, could have earned a comfortable living but how he preferred to lead a life in penury rather than betray the cause. He left disheartened as I declined to take up the reins that he wished to hand over to me. After that, his erudite letters was the only channel through which we remained in touch. In time, even the letters stopped.

Yet, whenever kadak tea with loads of sugar is thrust upon me, I am reminded of my friend and my failure to declass myself and become worthy of the cause my friend was so devoted to. The conscience feels the pinch but then comes hot, steaming, sugarless brewed tea and I’m back in my world of glorified mundanity.