My
old neighbour hobbled on the street,
‘Dadu,
where are you headed?’
‘Need
my ration of tea,
Do
you want to accompany me?’
I
did, but realised
He
skipped all the stores
‘Where
to? There’s Tata Gold right here?’
He
waved his hand dismissively
‘Duur
Boka!’
He
hobbled, I followed on
Until
some distance away
We
stumbled to an old store
A
creaking fan keeping summer away
And
rows of small red boxes holding loose tea
‘You
wanted this tea?’
I
whispered, while the shopkeeper
Knowing
his client too well
Already
started packing
Dadu
smiled.
‘Come
here, smell ‘this’ tea’
I
smelled, so what?
Dadu
smiled, he knew us younger ones very well.
‘Now
close your eyes,
Smell
once more – and don’t forget
This
is first flush Darjeeling,
The
most expensive
Now,
close your eyes
And
smell again.’
I
smiled again, as Dadu whispered
‘The
aroma, the essence of tannin
Blessed
by the mighty Kanchenjunga
Can
you see it shine in alpenglow?
Can
you smell on its summit, the delightful snow?
The
blessings of the mountain gods
Ground
into these drops that will usher an elixir…’
I
could see distinctly the sleeping Buddha
Under
its closed eyes
The
bloom of emerald
In
the gardens of tea
Of
course it was different!
I
came back to Calcutta
But
a part of me was lingering behind
As
was this old man’s
Who
had given away
Bits
of his life to the faraway mountains
Sometimes
desiring it back.
Sometimes
showing us
Younger
folks
Kanchenjunga
in the city…
3rd
June 2026
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