Chai, Sugar and Ammachi's Love

 

Tea has always been a quiet part of my life like a gentle presence. I would not call myself a tea person exactly but tea holds a place in my memories like an old friend who may not be around every day but is always there when you need them. When I think of tea a warm memory comes to mind from my school days spent on weekends at my Ammachi's house. 

As a young boy I was diligent with my schoolwork completing my weekend homework quickly so I could enjoy my time at Ammachi’s house. Every Friday evening we would hop on the 89C bus rumbling along the road to my grandmother’s home and with each stop my excitement would build. I would be bouncing on my seat barely able to wait for that familiar sight of her doorway that warm kitchen where she would already be expecting me and As soon as I arrived I would rush straight past everyone to Ammachi with my heart set on one thing her chai. 

Her chai was unlike anything else in the world I know you are probably wondering what made it so special, it was not just tea it was her tea. She made it with love of course but more than that she made it with a secret ingredient sugar and lots of it. Most people might add a spoon or two to their cup but not Ammachi her tea was almost like liquid sweetness, one fourth of that glass would be sugar and each sip was like a burst of pure joy. It was a sugary elixir, a child’s version of ambrosia each time I took a sip the tea got sweeter and sweeter until I could not leave a single drop behind.

I know I know you people must be wondering that too much sugar is not good for health, even my mom and valiyamma would say the same thing every weekend as they shook their heads telling Ammachi not to spoil me. But she would just smile that gentle smile of hers the one that spoke a language only I understood. It was as if we had our own little secret a special bond shared over those sugary cups of chai. Her tea was not just about the taste it was about the love she poured into each cup her way of telling me she was happy to see me. I would sit with that cup savoring it feeling every sip like a hug every sugary note like a little reminder of how much she cared.

That chai was my first love, when it came to tea the memory that would forever stay in my heart. Now that I am older I cannot have that tea anymore, those weekends are just memories and I find myself missing that tea that warm kitchen and most of all my Ammachi. It is funny how something as simple as tea can carry so much meaning, I miss the way she would smile as I ran into her kitchen the way she would look at me with that soft sparkle in her eyes more than anything I miss that feeling of being loved so purely so unconditionally as if her tea was a magical cure for anything life might throw at me.

Now whenever I have a cup of tea I think of her of those weekends and of that sweet tea served with love and even though I can never have that tea again it warms my heart to know that I once did, It tells me that love even in its smallest simplest gestures never truly fades and sometimes if I close my eyes I can almost taste it again.