Everyday at 11 in the morning, our eyes would sheepishly peek towards the kitchen that’s hidden behind a yellow brick wall from where the unmistakable aroma of the Indian chai would waft towards us. At exactly ten minutes past 11, Amma, dressed neatly in a pastel colored chiffon sari, came out with a tray full of her beloved tea cups, and steaming cups full of chai are served.
The chai was usually a saccharine affair, and we mostly gulped it down at once. But the magic of her chai made its presence known on days she took an off. Or on a wintry day, years down the line, when the mechanized whirring of the coffee machine greets you instead of Amma’s scorning face!
On the rare days that Amma took an off, our eyes kept stealing glances at the clock and then at the wall as if to implore Amma to walk from behind it at any moment. I always thought, Amma had a major role to play in sustaining our productivity levels, or at least mine!
What is a menial job for us, is her passion. She does her job with the precision of an expert. She is also very particular about her cups. One scratch and you would be her arch nemesis.
She is also devoid of any funny bone in her person. I have had the uncomfortable experience of being in her bad books more often than once. On such occasions, my ‘Thank Yous’ would be met with disapproving nods!
If not for the tea, Amma did teach us how to defeat a lot of personal follies, number one among them was procrastination. While traditionally, sipping tea is incomplete without a generous duration of gup-shup, in Amma’s reign, tea is a reminder, twice a day, to power through the day’s work. She would leave us with the tea cups, with the expectation that she should find its contents empty the moment she’s back! The moment we hurriedly forced the syrup down our parched throats, we hear her coming back with a frown on her face, betraying the mental marathon her mind runs everyday of counting cups.
A slight delay in finishing the steaming cup of tea, and you could invariably get a hearing from her. But with Amma, you always strive to be an obedient child, she is like that mother who you would do anything to impress!
While I have moved on from that office, though not necessarily from the tough love of Amma and her tea, I can’t help but think that she would have been the most hurt by this deadly maneuver by that darn virus.
If only the virus could be neutralized by death scares, Amma would have become the world’s savior!
Fingers in symphony 