Discourses on faith make an endless list. And faith often accepts the association of fear with the connotations of the word ‘dark’. Ignorance, the uncertain, the unknown. In most cases, constructs are consolations religion offers to tackle the inconceivable. The creation of the universe, the human body and even the process of birth, the way it would be explained to a primary school kid.

Perceiving That Three Letter word as an energy beyond comprehension enables us to find Him almost everywhere. I realise religion might step in here and claim that’s what they preach, but if you realise it, they prevent you from arriving at that perception.

People in white lab coats and goggles might throw words at you such as oxytocins and they’re the reason you de-stress and relax when being hugged, but the happiness and satisfaction that a hug promises seems just beyond their labs. Beyond any comprehension for that matter, enabling you to find Him in a warm embrace.

I’m not sure if this challenges faith in any regard but religion often creates barriers in the human mind that spur those stares when you’re being hugged. Now ask yourself the whys and the why nots. Then embrace a friend. That clashing of shoulders for a split second might not count but in a brief warm hug, you help your friend’s pressure levels get normal, and surrender yourself to that sense of satisfaction. Now, that’s incomprehensible. And, if you force yourself to, that might be Him.

starting a free hugs movement? count me in!

I have forever argued, with friends and family, that our Indian way of drinking chai does very little to appreciate its flavour. George Orwell, in his essay A Nice Cup of Tea, gives a detailed eleven-point recipe for his perfect cuppa stating that the best manner of making tea has often been subject to dispute.

No matter what school of thought you belonged, milk all the way up to the brim or a few drops of it, you’re choice of that perfect tea place just got tougher. Or did it?

Unlike coffee, not a million people might have an idea of what they want from their cuppa, or choose the right kind for their mood. To consider a tea place either as a space for a conversation or an opportunity to taste different teas under one roof therefore depends on what the tea drinker prefers. Whatever you might look forward to, there would be very little to comment on the ambience at Infinitea, Cunningham Road in Bangalore. And expecting a lot from it, this was a place I wished to plug even before I got there.

 That George Orwell recipe published in the Evening Standard in 1946 finds its place up a wall in a not so prominent section of the joint and nor is it well it, making it hard to be even noticed. There are creative posters all over the place but too high up the walls that you’d rather not look up and strain your neck.

Right then, I’m handed a menu that looks neat and promising from the cover. I open it expecting more variety than I’d find at Cha Bar, where that love for teas buried in me first surfaced up. Fortunately for me, there was more than just one recipe of the Darjeeling Second Flush, the tea I’ve ordered often enough to consider a favourite. The people who’d prefer other teas, say Nilgiri even (considering the proximity of the region to Bangalore), would be the unfortunate one. And for once, so was I, having got there in a mood for some Ceylon teas.

 The menu then seems perfect for those who need space to talk and a break from coffee as it might not confuse them as much as the elaborate Cha Bar menu. Tea lovers might not appreciate it much though.

I zero in on what’s termed as Assam Gold ’08 only to find it a tad over priced than what was called Assam Gold. I am briefed that the former is from 2008 batch and the other is only a year older than that. I decide to go with the pricier option.

Unlike Cha Bar, the leaves are added to the pot of boiling water right in front of my eyes and I’m given an hourglass that would give me an idea of the waiting time after which the brew would be ready for consumption. Cha Bar might want to do this to lure that conversation crowd who get restless as the tea takes a while to brew and it doesn’t happen in front of them.

It then takes me hardly a few sips to realise that my tea, prepared in the Orwell way as I’d normally prefer, was too light that it’d hardly matter even to the tea aficionado if the leaves were from 2007 or the year after that. Honestly, no one could tell, unless the person is a qualified tea taster, that is. Personally, not a satisfying experience then. I’m sure it’d seem more appealing to the ones who haven’t set foot in Cha Bar though.

 A few good things about Infinitea, minus the brew preparation and the hourglass are the Mozzarella Fritters and that poster of the famous Johnnie Walker image sitting in a car, instead of walking, with a caption underneath: Drink and Drive. Easy lads, they meant the teas.

back to blogs after a long break.. and I decided the archives must go. Sorry.