It’s tea time again!
Despite the wintry weather of that afternoon in 1945, beads of perspiration rolled down the forehead of my maternal grandfather as he perplexedly looked at my father, who after his betrothal to my mother was visiting his would-be-in-laws’ house in Gojra, Punjab, now in Pakistan for the first time. The reason being that when offered the traditional welcome drink of saffron-milk in ‘ kare-wala glass’ or a tall and rimmed brass tumbler, he simply refused to have it. This had sent my grandfather’s heart fluttering. Were they wrong in choice of this arrogant son-in-law or had they faulted in his reception and somehow upset him with some unpardonable lapse or had grievously hurt his sentiments. These questions were agitating his mind when the presentation of the uniformly perplexed and drooping faces of the bride’s side alarmed my father and relenting he told them that he would rather have tea instead of milk. It was a novel demand. No one knew how it was prepared and they regretfully pleaded their ignorance and inability. But he volunteered to tell them how to prepare it and when the concoction was ready he enjoyed his hot cup of tea to the great relief of his prospective parents-in-law and to the bewildered amusement of my mother from behind the curtain in the adjoining room.
My father had got engaged to tea six years earlier in 1939, and boasts that he would have up to 25 cups a day. He truly subscribed to the saying ‘ Any time is tea time’. But it was an aggressive marketing by the tea companies that ultimately won over the simple-living people in the British India who were raised on the virtuous milk, butter-milk, sherbet or simply the nimbu-pani, that is lemonade. But as the regular rounds of tea is observed in our house following those inherited traits, I find that of late my nonagenarian father is no longer enthusiastic about his cup of tea. It was with some persuasion that I made him join me for another cup of tea that evening, and dwelling on the subject he took me back to his young days when he had seen the birth of tea in India.
He recalled his days in Lahore when as a fifteen-year-old boy in 1938 he was charmed by the marketing teams of Lipton Tea as they sprang up at vantage points in the city. With kettles hoisted on flaming kerosene pressure stoves set up on folding metal tables, tea would be prepared and offered to passersby with ranting of slogans like ‘ Chai garmiyon mein thandak pahunchati hai aur sardiaon mein garmi pahunchati hai’ (Tea cools you during summers and warms you up during winters) and ‘ Ram kaho ya Rahim kaho, maksad to Lipton chai se hai’ (You may chant Ram or Rahim but it is all about Lipton tea). Curious people would throng such stalls and taste this novelty. Some would like its warming and refreshing contents but many would find it weird and unacceptable. My father took to it a year later and fell for the marketing slogan of ‘Every time is tea time’ which was devised later when the tea companies had sufficient numbers on their hooks. Brooke Bond also entered the market with its ‘ Ek kali do patti’ (one bud, two leaves) brand. Tea used to be sold in tins and to market their products the companies came up with fancy boxes. Brooke Bond Company came up with a beautiful red-coloured metallic chest with golden flowers in relief work on it for the expensive kilo pack. It looked such a charming and exquisite treasure box that my mother fondly wished to adopt it as her jewellery box. My father accordingly requisitioned the services of a fine craftsman to have a tiny hook fixed on it with a miniature lock. Six decades later, it remains a coveted family possession with its golden glitter still intact outside like that of the jewellery inside.
Those were the days when Dalda ghee was being popularised by salesmen going from house-to-house and demonstrating frying of pooris in it and offering them to housewives to taste. Even the cigarette companies offered free sticks to rope-in their addicts. Brands like Taar (electric wires); Passing Show; Kainchi (scissors), and State Express 555 were gaining popularity. For men, having tea and smoking cigarettes were seen as signs of modernity and affluence in society. Tea was prepared by boiling tea leaves in milk and it was generally taken outside and was not prepared at home. Women-folk generally did not take it. In those times, like on the pattern of hotels for food, there used to be separate tea shops with signage boards of Hindu Chai or Muslim Chai.
As the tea gained popularity it was a commercial hit all over, a combination of which my father recalls in a rags-to-riches story from what he witnessed in his early days in Delhi. In 1941, a tea-vendor set up his shop on a ‘rehri’ or a hand cart. He was stationed next to the popular shop of Pandit Brothers near Ghanta Ghar (clock tower) landmark in Chandni Chowk. He would sell tea for one anna a glass at that vantage point and people would throng his cart for a refreshing cup of tea. It was interesting to notice the quick transformation of his shabbily-clad hand-to-mouth existence to the one of a successful businessman starting his day in starched and sparkling white attire, commanding a new retinue.
It would be further interesting to know that when the earlier generations found the virtues of the tea plant, in some societies initially the tea leaves were boiled and consumed with bread while the liquid was discarded. Now we universally discard the boiled leaves and relish the flavoured liquid.