Pure joy

I love tea. Any time is perfect time for a cup, preferably with nan khatai, or chocolate fudge cake, ginger biscuits, carrot halwa, or simply on its own — first thing in the morning, in the afternoon, or whenever I feel like it.

Although almost every day is sunny in Dhaka, I feel awakened after I have the first steaming mug of tea in the morning. Looking at the sunlight peeking in through the windows, I think to myself, "What a lovely day. I must do something special!" 

I look forward to surprises with my tea, be it decadent toast fingers slathered in butter, or toast with butter and guava jelly, or sometimes 'bakarkhani' with slivers of Dhaka cheese on top of the jelly.

Tea has a bracing effect on almost everyone. A friend of my mother, who is a psychic astrologer and who dropped by at our house often, would welcome the arrival of the tea trolley with a broad smile. As soon as he took his first sip from the cup, he would sigh with pleasure and say "Aah, chomotkar!" 

He was amazingly accurate in his predictions, and I always feel a large part of his inspiration/second sight came from my mother's tea.

Tea is a definite antidepressant. An old relative used to say to me when I appeared stressed, "I'm bringing you a cup of tea, and everything will be alright." 

Invitations to tea are much more enticing than invitations to lunch or dinner. For one thing, I always feel peckish at teatime, and for another, I know that whoever the hostess, the table will be graced with the finest Dhaka porcelain, sprigged, striped or gold-bordered, that the silver will be fine, and the spread will be dazzling. 

There will be several types of cake, tiny sandwiches of egg, salmon or cucumber in beautiful three-tiered trays, lemon tarts, and of course, chaat —  fruit chaat, chaat with chick peas garnished with cilantro and green chillies, and accompanied by tamarind sauce, various types of halwa, egg, carrot and semolina, samosas, and even perhaps delicious "muri" dressed with mustard oil, onions and chillies! And if they serve sponge rosogollas, I throw discretion and weight watching to the winds, and say to myself, like Lillian Roth, "I'll cry tomorrow!"

I cannot end my tribute to tea without plagiarising from Lilly Bollinger — 

"I drink it when I'm happy and when I'm sad.

Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. 

When I have company I consider it obligatory. 

I trifle with it if I'm not hungry and drink it when I am. 

Otherwise, I never touch it – unless I'm thirsty."