I find it difficult to function when there’s
too much going on inside my head. I need a fair amount of time to put things
into perspective, whether it’s an exhibition I have seen or people I have met
or even articles or books that I have read. These engagements lose their charm
when I have to switch off and tend to mundane issues or push all the
connections I am making with myself, through these interactions, to put my mind
elsewhere. Some may see it as not being disciplined and often I wonder if
indeed I do not have enough self discipline and am indulging myself too much by
delving deep into things that do not necessarily have an apparent function in
the everydayness of living.
This week was an intense one. I enjoyed every
bit of what I did. Some exhibitions that
I saw were thought provoking and the ideas were reiterated by things in the
world around me. One artist had made a video of birds flying, talking about the
logic of birds. The concept was evocative because I have a lot of pigeons
living around me and ever since I saw that video, every time I see them make
those formations in the air, I begin musing. This adds to my tension because
there are articles and reviews to write, emails to respond to; the plumber had
promised to come but hadn’t and on top of everything else, my internet and
phone line was down. Could I really afford to sit idly contemplating pigeons in
flight?
Be present, I keep reminding myself, deal with
things as they come up. I know that when I do so, life is easier to handle and
complex things fall into place effortlessly, but I still falter. I enjoy being
deep and intense as much as it irks me because everything seems to take an age
to put into perspective and ideas keep coming up, often when least expected. There
is always so much to do that 24 hours are just not enough. The older I get, the
more I want to do and explore in life; I feel restless, thinking, will I ever
get it all done?
This morning, I decided I wanted
a different flavour of tea. Earl Grey or masala chai made by Mahipal or Puja
didn’t appeal, so I decided to make some cardamom tea. Not the pakki hui chai[i]
they brew on the stove, in the kitchen. No, I opted for the elaborate process
of mixing the tea and spices in the tea pot itself, for a more delicate flavour
and fragrance. 
Mittals in Sundar Nagar have a
ready-made pack of cardamom tea, which is part of their ‘natural range’ and
it’s already got the cardamom seeds mixed in with Darjeeling tea leaves. I find
I like a white cup to drink my
tea in. It shows off the colour of the tea to its best. Today, the tea has a
lovely orange tinge, veering somewhere between a mild russet to auburn,
softened by the whiteness of milk. It’s a warm, mid-tone, delicate in hue and
on the tongue. But, while brewing, it tested my nerves, especially when I
stirred it well to ensure the leaves were infusing all their flavour in good
time [so as not to let the tea get bitter]. It was so muddy that I never
thought I would get this delicate flavour. It looked completely undrinkable,
almost as bad as dirty dish-water. And when I added the milk, it looked like a
complete disaster. I hadn’t done this ritual in a while, so felt as though I
had lost the knack of getting it right. But then I let it settle a bit, and as
the dull green leaves, fully opened, and settled at the bottom of the glass
pot, I felt reassured. All was well; I had not brewed it too long or added too
many tea leaves. 
But, as I do yoga, write in my
journal, meditate and do some healing and affirmations, let it all settle, the
different feelings and thoughts find their own space, and the previous day and
its events and engagements are gradually put into perspective. In a sense, I do
what I did when making the cardamom tea: keep looking at the brewing thoughts,
feeling my way through the information that has built-up quite sub-consciously,
to ascertain, through the maze of ideas, what it is that I am really thinking.
This sometimes takes the better part of the day and requires a great deal of
discipline to see through but it feels good once I have done it. I find that
it’s all right, life’s good! The brew has a perfect flavour and colour.
Everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be. 
All is well in my world. I
haven’t got lost in the maze of ideas. There really is no conundrum, its
completely clear, well a little diffused because I like milk in my tea, but the
crisis that seemed to loom in my head is under control. It is uncanny how
making this particular tea this morning, needing to focus, because I had not
made it in a while, ensured I was fully present to its process. In that mental
silence, distracted from the weeks cacophony of events, the correlation I made
between the process of brewing tea and thoughts mulling in my mind reassured
and reminded me to have faith in the elaborate ritual of introspection that I
had cultivated.
For no matter how intense it
gets, or how hellish the brewing in one’s head can seem, it really is not that
dissimilar to making a cup of flavourful, cardamom tea.
