Tea All Round

I describe Dhaka as a city that needs to be picked up, dusted off and put back into place. Dirt gets everywhere; people are everywhere and the noise is everywhere. Despite my heart racing with excitement as the plane landed in this city deep filled with tragedy and poverty juxtaposed with colour and celebration, I was happy to head north and out of the building site that is Dhaka.
Driving along the bumpy road towards Srimangol I held tight and took in the calm serenity of the lavish paddy fields that lined either side of the roads.
On arrival, I replaced the traditional clothes I had adorned in a bid to blend in, to something to suit the cooler weather up on the hill. I was here in December although the best time to travel to the tea gardens is during the monsoon season (June-August) as you get to see the tea picking in action and also experience the monsoon rain!
As I walked along the main road the smell of burning kerosene lamps lingered in the air as their flickering light disturbed the still night in the distant. I came across a furniture workshop where two men were intricately chipping their magic into a bed frame, they looked up at me, gave me a slight nod and went back to their craft.
Further along, I came across a bunch of elderly men wrapped up in scarves sat around drinking tea in a makeshift tea shop, they looked at me with intrigue. As our eyes locked, a scrawny little boy popped out of nowhere, pulled out a chair and invited me to sit. He handed me a cup and poured in a thick brown concoction from a blackened teapot. A word was yet to slip from his mouth as I took my first sip of the warm goodness.
This was no ordinary tea; this was a rich, sweet, syrupy brew which hugged my throat as it travelled down with every sip. Before long I was asking for another cup as I put sounds together in broken Bangla, the boy smiled revealing his toothy grin responding with a futile attempt in English.
Hours passed.
The men in scarves had upped and left but the crickets joined in, filling in the pauses as I continued to chat away to this boy who happened to be 14 although he looked no older than 10. He told me about school and his desire to open up a proper tea shop one day. He shared how life was like for the tea pickers and how the road we were sat on led to the tea gardens and in the morning light, I would witness the glorious tea plants that fuelled this memorable encounter.