I read this finishing today's cup of turmeric chai -- to which I now seem to be somewhat addicted, thank you! -- which I made with a few cloves, two cardamom pods, turmeric, ground ginger, honey, milk ... and black Assam tea leaves. Everything but the honey, milk, and water came from far, far away. The spices in my kitchen always make me think of commodity, especially something like the chai that draws my attention to each addition, but it's stories like the one you're sharing here, with the history and the current reality, that really bring it home. I will be thinking about this for a long time.
And my goodness, Swarna, you're such a beautiful writer. I kept highlighting lines to quote because they were so lovely, like the rain dancing away. You bring me right into the land, the smells, the feel of the place. It's so rich. I love reading your work.
Tea and colonialism. First, the opium wars, caused by China trying to limit imports of opium which the British were selling to offset the cost of the tea they were buying. Then the theft of tea plants from China and their establishment in India, as you write about here. And, of course, the Boston Tea Party and the American Revolution. That's a lot of misery for one small leaf.
Thank you for showing me the tea pickers, that I may see them. Namaste. 🙏
Thank you Swarna, I find myself often wondering about how much we take for granted, how much human endeavour goes even into poor products, poorly executed. That strikes me as soul destroying. Now your essay reminds me, again, of the luxury of excellence and the price others have paid, pay and will pay for our blithe disregard. I love that you hold both things so gently: the joy of perfection and comfort and the dark traditions that go onto it.
So much to love in this essay Swarnali--not the least of which is the magic of tea and yet the colonial history that rages on in so many capitalist aftershocks. I love to learn more of this history and to hear your words in telling it. And what I take away from it most is thinking about us all as fireflies, mimicking stars, trying to signal and hope someone signals back in acknowledgement, understanding no matter how much darkness and distance--I'll think of that as I read and write, to be connected with you and others, how grateful I am to be connected to through the signals of your gorgeous prose. 🌌 💜
lovely writing and evocative imagery too, mmmmm. I love green tea, the smell as I lift the cup to my mouth always reminds me of ceremonail tea ceremonies. Wishing you a restful weekend xxx
I read this finishing today's cup of turmeric chai -- to which I now seem to be somewhat addicted, thank you! -- which I made with a few cloves, two cardamom pods, turmeric, ground ginger, honey, milk ... and black Assam tea leaves. Everything but the honey, milk, and water came from far, far away. The spices in my kitchen always make me think of commodity, especially something like the chai that draws my attention to each addition, but it's stories like the one you're sharing here, with the history and the current reality, that really bring it home. I will be thinking about this for a long time.
And my goodness, Swarna, you're such a beautiful writer. I kept highlighting lines to quote because they were so lovely, like the rain dancing away. You bring me right into the land, the smells, the feel of the place. It's so rich. I love reading your work.
Wonderful writing, Swarna.
Tea and colonialism. First, the opium wars, caused by China trying to limit imports of opium which the British were selling to offset the cost of the tea they were buying. Then the theft of tea plants from China and their establishment in India, as you write about here. And, of course, the Boston Tea Party and the American Revolution. That's a lot of misery for one small leaf.
Thank you for showing me the tea pickers, that I may see them. Namaste. 🙏
Thank you Swarna, I find myself often wondering about how much we take for granted, how much human endeavour goes even into poor products, poorly executed. That strikes me as soul destroying. Now your essay reminds me, again, of the luxury of excellence and the price others have paid, pay and will pay for our blithe disregard. I love that you hold both things so gently: the joy of perfection and comfort and the dark traditions that go onto it.
So much to love in this essay Swarnali--not the least of which is the magic of tea and yet the colonial history that rages on in so many capitalist aftershocks. I love to learn more of this history and to hear your words in telling it. And what I take away from it most is thinking about us all as fireflies, mimicking stars, trying to signal and hope someone signals back in acknowledgement, understanding no matter how much darkness and distance--I'll think of that as I read and write, to be connected with you and others, how grateful I am to be connected to through the signals of your gorgeous prose. 🌌 💜
A thought-provoking piece. Thank you.
lovely writing and evocative imagery too, mmmmm. I love green tea, the smell as I lift the cup to my mouth always reminds me of ceremonail tea ceremonies. Wishing you a restful weekend xxx