The Worst Tea

You only realize the importance of human existence when they are nowhere near. Such a situation leaves you with lessons about yourself. Things you are good at and things that aren’t your forte but you somehow manage (because you have no choice).

Well, lately, living alone in my abode has left me thinking that when two people use the same ingredients to make tea, huge dissimilarities may be detected.

Alert!

Since I have shifted with my brother, it’s an unsaid habit that whenever we have tea, he will make it. I, on the other hand, will be responsible for arranging snacks, toasting bread, applying butter, and spreading the sheet on the bed.

This has been going on for more than a year and a half (without us realizing it). From the two of us, it has to be him who pays a visit home more frequently than me.

This week, the same happened. He left for home. Me, being not an ardent tea fan, prefers drinking it once a week, on weekends.

So, today, I boiled water, sprinkled some tea leaves, grated ginger, and a pinch of sugar, and later added milk. On the adjacent side, I slid the butter onto the pan and cut the bun into two halves to toast. The very next minute, the bun was ready. Tea looked almost perfect (in terms of color). I strained the tea, took the bun off the stove, and put it on the plate.

With an old song playing in the background, I was all ready for the first morsel of the day, only to realize the taste of tea sucked.

Huge turn-off, right? Ask me.