View: The sheer joy of sipping a freshly steeped cup of fine Indian tea is beyond comparison

In the 20 minutes that I stood waiting for my order to be completed at my favourite tea store-bearing the soothing name Mahabodhi-in Calcutta this week, there was a continuous stream of customers at the green plastic rope strung across the entrance ever since the pandemic enforced new norms. And as usual Avik, the young man I consider a tea evangelist, regaled me with his latest quest to garner the best batches of tea from the recent flushes.

One customer in particular caught my eye: a young gentleman who had noted on his phone the teas he had bought on his previous visit. He was told that while teas from the same gardens were available, they would not be necessarily the same as what he had tasted earlier. Just like wine, I thought to myself for the nth time, as there are extraordinary similarities between it and tea: both are temperamental agricultural products with varying years and vintages.

Given price was not an issue for the young gent, the staff at Mahabodhi brought out their best, putting small piles of tea coaxed out of the wooden chests stacked on the sides of store onto small plates for him to examine. Rather like sommeliers who pour a bit of wine into glasses for us to swirl around that then 'taste' in the style prescribed by countless wine gurus. Only, many Indians who can afford to buy the best teas know more about French wines now.

The gentleman hesitated too, wondering what to do. Avik then told him the secret of how to judge tea: take about a couple of teaspoons' full in the palm, close into a fist and blow a few times into the gap between the curled thumb and fingers. That warms up the tea, allowing the leaves to release their aromas. Then loosen the fingers a bit and smell the warmed leaves. He did precisely that and the look of sheer delight on his face brought a smile to mine!

As he bought tea clearly more than a week's worth, I couldn't resist asking why. He and his wife loved tea, he confided, but were unable to find any of good quality in the UK, so he stocked up at Mahabodhi every time he came home. They even used special water as the tap variety there was not suitable, and never let sugar or milk interfere with its aroma and flavour. A couple after my own heart thought I, and wished more Indians also appreciated tea as much.

The French allusion runs deeper. For Calcuttans-not only Bengalis-tea is as personal as the baguette is for the French. And Avik and his team know what many of their customers want, just as Parisian bakers know their daily buyers. Whether it's that pretty grey-haired Bengali matron in a cotton saree and black cardigan or the middle-aged executive who tucks his packet into his backpack or the local chaiwallah's bag of 'fannings' for a day's clientele.

Nevertheless, the past two years had been hellish, Avik admitted, though they managed to stay open as much as laws would allow. They even rang up their regular customers and offered to home-deliver their usual measure of specifically blended or single origin tea. For many that may seem odd as your garden variety teas (pun intended) are available aplenty online. But as aficonados know, there's no telling how they are stored or when they are packed.

Freshness and personalised blends are a daily luxury that those not from-or living in-the east can fathom easily. For those who appreciate the aroma, flavour and colour of fine tea, there is nothing quite like a freshly steeped-not brewed-cup of Darjeeling or Assam. The generic teas online are simply not as fresh or as customised as what tea retailers in Calcutta offer. And as usual, this time too, Avik wanted me to taste his latest prized tea acquisition.

"There were only three lots of Okayti available (at the auction) and two were snapped up by exporters for Japan; I got the third one," he said with his signature Cheshire cat smile. "It is pure honey." As I sipped the golden liquid he proffered to me in a glass cup, that was deliciously apparent. And, as usual, it was far easier than discerning aromas or flavours of 'leather', 'white fruit' or 'mineral' that experts urge neophyte noses and palates to discern in wine!

The sheer diversity of customers at Mahabodhi fills me with hope about the future of the untapped and largely unpublicised treasure called fine Indian tea-not just cheap and cheerful, boiled 'masala chai'. But a lot more needs to be done to bring it to the notice of Indians who are, unfortunately, remain more willing to learn about imported beverages rather than the equally magical treasure growing in our hills from Darjeeling and Assam to Garhwal and the Nilgiris.