One of my weaknesses is tea. Any time is tea time for me, and I never say ‘no’ when a cup is offered. Aware of my habit, my family doctor shakes his head whenever I go to him with complaints and asks me to reduce the consumption of the beverage. It didn’t cost much in the past, but things have changed for the worse.
On some Sundays, my son takes me and other family members in his car on a tour of the nearby tribal district of dangs. He stops the car at tea stalls at intervals to get me tea. The other day, he handed me a small plastic cup with tea whose quantity was a fraction of what I drank at home. The design of the cup was such that only about three-fourths could be filled. The price was much more than what I used to pay for a full cup years ago.
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I joined my College of Agriculture as a lecturer in the late 1960s. The college was in its initial years. While the college building was being built a little farther, it was run from a large rented house surrounded by a compound with several gnarled mango trees. Lectures and practical classes were held in temporary halls.
There was a canteen owned by one Jairam on the side of the main building. He doubled as a security guard at night. Some teachers would assemble at the canteen around four in the evening to consume hot pakoras and steaming cups of tea. A few students would order these items from a distance, as they did not want to face teachers when lectures and practical classes were on.
Every Wednesday evening, there used to be a meeting of the Wednesday Club, at which some teachers would present research papers. Tea and snacks were ordered for all members from Jairam’s canteen.
The principal’s bungalow was near the entrance to the college. He would sometimes go to his residence around four and make a loud guttural sound to let us know he had seen us, but he never asked us to refrain from our habit.
The canteen would be closed when Jairam was out of the station. There was another government office without any canteen on the southern side of our compound. The wife of one of the peons prepared tea for the staff. We would cross over to that place to have tea whenever our canteen was closed. One day, a friend of mine was in a hurry, as he had a lecture after a few minutes. We crossed the barbed wire fence between the two compounds by lifting one of the strands and bending our bodies. While crossing, the shirt of the said teacher was caught in the barbed wire, tearing it with a sound. We contacted the teacher who had the last lecture, apprised him of the situation, and forced him to engage in the next lecture while our friend rushed to his house on a scooter and changed his shirt.
I would be happy if the governments reduced the price of tea to wean away some of the alcohol lovers.
