Detours and Tea Leaves IV
Part Four
Reeling from the revelation that unassuming Hari is the esteemed judge of the competition, I watch him with renewed admiration. He moves with an elegant ease, navigating the intricate world of the tea-making competition with a keen eye and gentle grace. His every step seems to carry the weight of tradition and expertise.
Hari moves from one team to another, tasting and nodding, occasionally asking a question. Sitting in the audience, amidst the flurry of activity, I'm struck by the symphony of aromas swirling around me, the robust earthiness of brewing leaves, the spicy notes of the masala chai, and the obvious passion of the teams. Initially an unwitting spectator, I am now enveloped by the artistry of the tea-making contest, compelling me to see it in a new light.
When Hari announces the winners, their joy is infectious. The Masala Chai team's victory is met with a burst of applause that ripples through the crowd, mixing with the rustling of leaves in the gentle Munnar breeze. The sounds of the contest - laughter, chatter, the clinking of teacups - create a melody celebrating the simple complexity of tea.
Hari concludes, "I am truly humbled by the dedication, passion, and skill that each team has demonstrated in this competition and grateful to all of you for accepting my invitation to attend."
As I rise to join the departing British tourists to help them pack up, Hari raises a finger, to make a final announcment.
"This year, we have had the pleasure of welcoming a very special guest to our competition. But welcome isn't the right word, more of an 'oosi' who arrived with our British contestants!” The term was lost on me, but those who spoke Malayalam were grinning at the joke.
“I witnessed today not just the art of tea making but also the art of storytelling. Her candidness, adventurous spirit, and stories have touched my heart.” Murmurs of curiosity rippled through the crowd as all eyes turned to me.
“Pandi, please join me on stage, I have a small gesture to help you on your journey."
The murmurs of the crowd are a soft backdrop to my thumping heartbeat as I step onto the stage, my hands trembling slightly. Walking to the stage my nervous grin broadens to a proud smile as Hari hands me a small envelope. There is a note inside and folds of cash - enough at first glance to cover my expenses for the rest of the trip.
My heart swells with gratitude. With the crowd applauding, Hari beckons a member of the IIT Madras team to approach and spoke with him at length before turning back to me.
"Pandi, I'd like you to meet Aatma, my son." Aatma's gaze was kind, his smile gentle, mirroring the warmth I had come to associate with Hari. "Should you wish it, he's well-acquainted with the roads to Tamil Nadu and is happy to be your companion and guide to Uttiramerur."
I turn to Aatma, slightly taken aback by this new development, but certain in another change of plan.
Feeling a mix of gratitude and excitement about the new turn of events, I approach the group of British tourists to inform them. Drawing their attention, I smile and say "I wanted to say thank you so much for your company and for inviting me to join you on the trip to Munnar. But it looks like my journey is taking an unexpected turn. Hari has arranged for his son Aatma to drive me to Uttiramerur. It's an opportunity I just can't pass up."
The tourists nod in understanding, some expressing their well-wishes. With heartfelt goodbyes and a few hugs, the tourists wish me luck on my continued journey. In anticipation of a long ride, I spend some time freshening up and reorgnise the contents of my backpack.
After farwelling Hari, Aatma and I walk toward a car, the plantation fading behind us. Aatma casually reaches out to feel the leaves on a row of tea bushes and breaks the silence, "So, Pandi, tell me about Kalumburu." His tone was genuinely curious, inviting me into a conversation. I smile, opening up to the road ahead, to the stories yet to be told on the road to Uttiramerur and beyond.