To me, nothing is more evocative of my 40-year-old career in Munnar’s tea plantations than “the cup that cheers”, for it symbolises a unique way of life for many who were an integral part of the tea industry.
In the early 1960s I was a rookie in a British-managed tea conglomerate there. Confined to the office, I looked forward to the tea-breaks when the invigorating brew was served by a uniformed ‘tea boy’ resplendent in a spotless white turban, thanks to the Brits’ fixation with a proper dress code.
On a recent visit, however, I was dismayed to find that a self-service tea dispenser had replaced the popular tea-break and the ever-smiling ‘tea boy’. Also conspicuously missing was the bonhomie the tea-breaks generated. I recalled the diabetic office gossip who drank his tea unsweetened, prompting a wag to quip, “Scandalous love affairs are his tea sweeteners!”
After the tea-break, the smokers usually trooped downstairs to the secluded environs of the toilet for a puff. A big vexation then was a summons from the boss that usually came, quite perversely, just when one had lit up. Depending on the urgency of the call—mirrored in the panting peon’s face—one took a long drag before disgustedly flicking the fag away and hurrying back.
Once while having a cup of tea with my Scottish boss, a stickler for formality, I forgetfully committed the cardinal sin of slurping, rather than sipping, the beverage. He said nothing but his face turned crimson as if he was having an apoplectic attack and he glared at me over his horn-rimmed spectacles. I quickly apologised but somehow the brew just didn’t taste good thereafter.
Another time a British assistant manager shared an amusing incident with me. Returning home exhausted one evening, he told his new Malayalee cook, “Get me a hot cuppa.” Ten minutes later the beaming cook plonked down a steaming chunk of tapioca before his bemused boss—having mistaken ‘cuppa’ to mean ‘kappa’, the Malayalam word for tapioca!
Years later when I was transferred to another department, my boss joked while introducing me to my new boss, “George has no vices except that he’s addicted to tea and cigarettes!” To which my new boss, an Irishman, retorted wryly, “I’ve found that people who've no vices seldom have any virtues either!”
Strangely enough, I’m no longer a tea drinker, having successfully overcome my ‘addiction’ against all the odds. One of the greatest pleasures in life, undoubtedly, is doing what people say you can’t do!