Today My Tea Tasted So Bitter

Today my tea tasted so bitter…

Brewed in my Chinese kettle

boiled water poured over
tiny cinnamon sticks and orthodox tea

from the gardens in the east

From the same hand picked blend

of green 'two and a bud'

dried n packed in golden foil

Rich fragrant brew

rushed out from the spout

into my favourite mug with blue flowers.

A whiff of my aromatic potion lifted my spirits

just as the smell from the crispy folds of
a morning newspaper

from where I sipped news along.

'Perfect way to start my day'..I told myself.

"Starvation Deaths in Tea Gardens"

I read it over n over

And reached for another sip

and my tea tasted so bitter

salty, as if blended with the sweat of tea laborers

tinted with the sucked blood

from those emaciated bundle of bones.

I pushed my tea cup away

but not memories
in the pictures I had clicked

of the lush green bushes

In the stillness of my tea gone cold

I saw reflections

of poorly fed frail figures

plucking two and a bud

in the hot blazing sun,

for creating a fine blend

for a fresh start

to someone's day...

Copyright@Mridual  aka writingdoll Please do not reproduce without written consent of the poet.

This poem is in response to this news

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/kolkata/government-wakes-up-to-tea-garden-deaths/article6159328.ece

My Cup of Tea

My morning cup of tea

is flavoured with cinnamon,

fresh green smell of

ferns, Diphenbachias and Arelias

from my balcony..

the misty dewy whiff of the sea.

Colour-enhanced

by the golden rays

of the morning sun.

The bells of the temple down

makes it divine ritual..

With every noiseless sip

with the sweet sound of birds

my mind is sorted

and so is my day..

But one odd day

when I held my cup of tea

and thought about stories

shared with friends

over a cup of tea,

I saw my soul stir up

in the stillness of hot tea

when I remembered the brew

shared with a friend

The last cup

the tragic end..

And in my hand

the cup of tea

turned cold

just as me.

We are so busy with our lives that we do not really pause and reflect on small pleasures of life. My tea time is a ritual I love...main aur meri chai.. It is also reflective, a short pause when I switch off from the word to have an inner dialogue. I remembered once the chai shared with a very dear friend and someone who is no more...there were endless memories in that last cup of chai we shared. 

Copyright mridual aka writingdoll. No work should be reproduced or copied without my written consent.