An Ode to Tea

A long time ago, in the misty past, beyond Neolithic times,

Indeed, in the age when the Himalayas, some millions

Of years ago were formed,

Far away in the verdant lush green forests of Asia,

There was a plant that grew in its serene splendour.

It was christened the Tea Plant.

Its leaves added colour and flavour to boiling water;

In its enigmatic glory it became tai, cha, chai and char;

Its many splendoured qualities gifted Tea with many names.

Today we bow down to Tea;

She is sipped from a cup, a mug, or a saucer,

To be a rich man’s stimulant

Or a poor man’s beverage,

But remember, she will continue as Tea,

To always abide by Thee.

The genesis of Tea is characterised by a mystique

Which only the Vedas explain in the Creation Hymn,

Questioning when this creation has arisen, and

Replying that only the One in the highest heaven knows

Or perhaps, even He does not know.

– Deepak Rikhye

A Lunar Introduction

Before I even begin to capture the Saga of Tea and my life as a planter, this introduction will enlighten my friends on the lesser-known powers of the moon, a cosmic miracle. I urge every Manager of a tea garden to study the effect of the moon on the earth’s flora, particularly on tea. It will motivate you to translate this knowledge on a tea estate.

My first attempt to begin research on different techniques of tea manufacture and field practices began with the hope of communicating with the Tea Research Association in Kolkata. Alas! The experience was, at best, reminiscent of PG Wodehouse’s words, “Waiting for a plan to succeed is often similar to throwing a rose petal down the Grand Canyon in Arizona and then waiting for the sound of an echo!”

The sound of that echo eluded me; my plan of synchronising some research with the TRA never crystallised. I pondered over my next option. With Wodehousian confidence in ‘my superior intelligence,’ I decided to communicate with the Embassy of China in New Delhi. When I visited the Embassy, an official from the Embassy’s cultural department led me into a lounge where I was offered a cup of fragrant and aromatic Chinese tea. We discussed Lu Yu’s treatise on tea, ‘Cha Ching,’ which was published in 600 AD. The first known book about tea, it describes the story of tea in China going all the way back to pristine times. I asked the official a question, which was foremost in my mind.

There was mention in ‘Cha Ching’ on the effect of moonlight on tea. Did this really have a palpable effect on the quality of tea? Ancient Chinese paintings and Chinese literature certainly seemed to support this belief.

The official said that Lu Yu wrote that they even plucked the tea bushes on a full-moon light. If leaves of a tea bush tend to slightly turn towards each other on a full-moon night, the quality of the leaf is logically being retained. Those qualities will, to a great extent, be reflected in the manufactured tea. Let us emulate the Chinese policy of plucking leaf on a full-moon night, which only occurs once or twice a month. They thinly spread the leaf to wither in the moonlight. Both plucking the leaf and leaving it to wither happen in the cool of the night; there is no heat from the sun to cause a decline in quality. A thin spread of leaf will permit leaf to be withered at night; it can therefore be manufactured at night too.

Apparently, in China, electric lights are dimmed or reduced to obviate any increase in temperatures in factories. In Assam, would leaf from select clonal sections, if plucked on a full-moon night, benefit in terms of quality? A cynic could disagree; most tea plantations in China are on steep topography, he would say. However, moonlight will surely manifest itself on flora, whether on steep terrain or on the plains.

To comprehend the divine influence of the cosmic environment let us understand the moon’s effect on plants in general. Several scientists have studied the moon’s impact on vegetation. C Beeson compiled his findings in his book, ‘The Moon and Plant Growth.’ W Shad wrote ‘Lunar Influence on Plants.’ E Bunning wrote ‘Interference of Moonlight on Plants and their Adaptive Reactions.’ P Tompkins reported his results in ‘Moonshine.’

Interestingly, the moon, in her celestial sphere, is not as inscrutable as she appears. We are aware of sunlight’s effect on plant growth. But sunlight reflected by the moon has a different alchemy. The response of plants during their growth in twenty-four hours is photoperiodism. Bunning observed certain plants with adaptive mechanisms that prevented moonlight from interfering with photoperiodism. These plants change the position of their leaves: horizontal in the day and vertical at night. Therefore, at night, the surface of their leaves receives less light. Bunning observed this phenomenon in a species of Albizzia. The upper surface of leaves shade each other on a full-moon night. This behaviour exemplifies some plant species that prefer less light. Pliny the Elder, a Roman, who lived during the time of Christ, observed ants to be unusually active in their anthills on a full-moon night. Pliny proved to farmers that fruits and vegetables were not vulnerable to damage by ants on a full-moon night. Therefore, that was the best time to harvest fruit. It was also elaborated that when the moon reaches its highest point and begins a downward movement, plants focus on their root zone. It is an ideal time for transplanting.

One of the most famous physicists in the world, Albert Einstein, explained that in our endeavour to understand reality, we are like a person trying to understand the mechanism of a closed watch. He sees the face and the moving hands and even hears the ticking sound, but there is no way in which he can open the case. If he is ingenious, he may form a picture of the mechanism. There will be a difference between his picture and the real mechanism. This illustrates our understanding of what happens around us. The environment or the cosmic forces can make themselves apparent but may often appear like that ‘closed watch.’ This emphasises the importance of trials at every stage. If the trial succeeds, our understanding has partially opened that closed watch.

When Albert Einstein articulated these words, he brought yet another precept to the forefront: “Most of the fundamental ideas of science are essentially simple, and may, as a rule, be expressed in a language comprehensible to everyone.”

For the uninitiated, let me present the process of the manufacture of the tea you probably drink daily. The first stage is when the fresh leaf has to be plucked by tea pickers—the labour—who place the two leaves and a bud shoots into a bamboo basket. This leaf is spread into withering troughs where the leaf is withered for about ten hours. Air from high-powered electrically driven fans is blown into the troughs to wither the leaf. The leaf is then loaded on to rolling tables, which turn on the withered leaf, and this process ‘styles’ the leaf. The rolled leaf is then placed on to fermenting units where cool, humidified air is blown through perforated base plates of each fermenting ‘gumlah.’ The process of the leaf going directly to the fermenting units is known as ‘orthodox manufacture.’ However, CTC manufacture (Cut, Tear and Curl) is when the rolled leaf is put through CTC machines that cut the leaf into small particles and then ferment it. Since cells of the leaf are cut in CTC machines, the fermentation time is less than in the orthodox process. After fermentation, the tea leaf is placed through dryers, which are heated either by electronic or gas burners if industrial gas is available. The high temperatures at this stage transform the tea from green to a brown, black colour. After drying, the tea is graded through stainless steel wire-mesh sorters. Large perforated meshes retain larger particles or grains of tea and smaller perforations retain smaller grains. These different sizes of tea characterise each grade, comprising Brokens, Fannings or Dust. In orthodox tea, the particles are larger, so this tea is shaken through bubble trays with different sized bubbles and the tea is thus graded. The smaller sized orthodox grades are sorted through meshes. The final stage is when the tea is packed either in tea chests, paper bags or jute bags. Trucks are reserved to transport the packed tea to Guwahati or Kolkata. The entire procedure is highly systematic and precise. Right up to the point of departure, the tea is meticulously checked, and samples are tested by moisture metres. When the packed tea is received by buyers, samples are tested for traces of pesticide residue.

Although the manufacture of tea is essentially a science, JM Trinick and Probir Das, of the Williamson Magor Tea Company, in actual fact, comprehended relevant theories that applied to manufacture, and translated those theories into simple language. They similarly related their understanding to us in simple terms. They were not daunted by scientific theories. Gary Zukhov has reasoned that a person working on an already known theory is not a scientist; he is a technician because he is progressing on something already discovered. A scientist is someone who discovers a new theory, previously unknown. JM Trinick could be termed a scientist; he invented the Trinick Tea Sorter, which was hitherto unknown. Tea sorting machines of the past entailed the tea moving over different meshes on different levels as discovered by the legendary Arnott. This had a negative effect on quality. The Trinick Sorter was based on a new theory and thus revolutionised sorting of tea. It was sorted on one level, thereby preserving the quality of tea. It was an invention that was created after almost a century. Before the Arnott Sorter, tea was manually sorted.