Grandma’s Tea
On a sweltering August evening, I gathered a bunch of friends for dinner. It had been a while since we'd met, so there was a backlog of updates and stories to catch up on. We settled in and placed our orders. I opted for a cottage cheese steak.
As the food arrived, we traded "gossip" - interesting stories from our recent past, ranging from mildly intriguing to downright exotic. This is a recounting of that night.
For my contribution, I regaled the jolly bunch with the tale of a new cat that had wandered into our house. Coincidentally, our resident cat had also arrived on an August evening the previous year. Perhaps August was our peak cat attraction month. Ha.
The next person shared his sister's recent adventure in Turkey and Azerbaijan. They'd been assigned a surprisingly young tour guide in Turkey and, believe it or not, "a remote operative who would assist them 24/7" in Azerbaijan. In the end, the group members had to step up and manage everything themselves.
When it came to GP's turn, he seemed to snap out of a daze. "Tell us your gossip," we urged. "I'm too hungry right now. Let me get some food in me first," he replied. We obliged, knowing GP always had the most fantastic stories, forever embarking on mini-adventures and side quests. So we waited.
After consuming about half of his Pasta Arrabbiata, GP declared with theatrical flourish, "Alright, let me tell you a story."
GP’s Tale
I am decently regular at the weekend board games meet up. It’s fun, and I meet a lot of people from different backgrounds. Some of them become friends and we exchange contacts, but many of them I know only by their faces as regulars.
On one of the Saturday’s one such friend pings me and asks what I’m up to, and whether I want to hangout. I’m like sure, let’s go. I go to Church Street to meet up with him and he’s got another friend with him, another girl from board games. So there we are, three people on a Saturday evening in Church Street, with the designated purpose to have fun. I, my Friend and his friend.
We felt like dancing. I say we, but it was mostly the girl, and we were following her lead. We find a dance floor, but there was no stag entry. So the Friend calls up another girl. Who was surprisingly in the next street and she readily came over. With another girl. And so we were five.
We danced for hours. Then drank. Then danced some more. One of the girls got hungry, so we went out looking for food. Then we danced some more. And then we decided to call it a night.
“But I’m not sleepy! Let’s go to my place, we can continue the party there!” said one of the girls. The Friend’s friend. And so off we went. The two girls who joined us later came to the house on a motorcycle, but then decided they would rather head back home. So there we were, the three of us, I, my Friend and his friend.
We were sat around the tea table, munching on some snacks, with some music setting the vibe. The mood was relaxed max. There was Sufi playing. The girl and I were deep in a conversation and just as I was realizing my Friend hadn’t said anything in a while I look over to him, only for him to perk up and say, “I have never told this to anyone before but you guys, I’m telling you, I feel very good. I’m in a sharing mood. You guys need to hear this.”
We were silent. The mood seemed to shift in the room.
“Alright, let me tell you a story”
The Friend’s Tale
There are a lot of interesting things, that if you’re open to, can happen to you in Goa. Go beyond the beaches and the parties and you’ll find a whole subculture hidden just beneath the surface. The catch is, you need to know someone to access it. Over many a trips to Goa I eventually hit upon the right connection, and this is the story of a night in Goa that I will never forget.
I met Clarice at a beachside shack. Or she met me, to be precise. On a remote beach, just an hour before sunset. I remember because I was about to head back to my room and she said, “If you aren’t in a hurry, you should stay, the sunset is gorgeous from here”. I looked over to see Clarice looking me over, judging me, coming to conclusions and smiling at me. So I stayed. I wasn’t in a hurry after all.
As we got talking, the sun came and set. I watched it as it slowly dipped below the horizon. The shades of color that it threw out into the sky and sea were absolutely gorgeous. The sun had set, yet I stayed. For Clarice had my full attention at this point.
“Well I’m glad I took your advice, that was beautiful” I said.
“Grandma’s Tea” she said.
“Say what?”
“You should have seen it after taking Grandma’s Tea. It’s a whole new experience.”
“Oh! Do tell, where can I get some of this Grandma’s Tea?” I asked. Her recommendation track record has been 1/1. So.
“Let’s go”, she said. And off we went walking along the beach.
Grandma’s Tea is served from a canister hooked onto the back of a bicycle. I noted with some slight disappointment that the eponymous Grandma wasn’t present. Instead a young man, not more than 20 years of age, dressed in a neon flashing hat had taken up her role. What was more striking was the crowd around. There were thirty odd people, skewing towards the younger side, clustered together, lying on the beach. No wait, crawling. Ever so slowly. Towards each other. Strange.
Clarice handed me a cup while looking at the clump of people that was forming. “They have been here since the sunset, they are just experiencing the full effect of it. Its potent, but hits you slowly, and lasts long”
I smelled the tea. It smelled like tea. “Some kind of hallucinogenic?” I asked.
“Such a crass characterisation. No. Something that goes beyond hallucinations, something that works on your perceptions as well as your body” she said.
This is the underground, said my heart, while it started racing. I was on the brink of something exciting.
I looked at the cup in my hand, then back at Clarice. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and anticipation. I took a deep breath, raised the cup to my lips, and drank.
At first, nothing happened. The tea tasted earthy, with a hint of sweetness. We sat on the beach, watching the stars emerge in the darkening sky. Clarice chatted about the local legends and myths surrounding Grandma's Tea, but her words began to blur together as a warm, tingling sensation spread through my body.
"It's starting," Clarice said, her voice sounding distant yet crystal clear at the same time. "Just relax and let it take you."
The sand beneath me seemed to shift and breathe. I looked down at my hands, fascinated by the intricate patterns forming on my skin. The world around me began to pulse with vibrant colors I had never seen before.
Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to move. Not to walk or run, but to crawl. It was as if gravity had intensified, pulling me closer to the earth. I understood now why the others had been crawling earlier.
As I moved across the sand, every grain felt significant. I could sense the history of each tiny particle, the eons it had existed before becoming part of this beach. Clarice crawled beside me, laughing softly.
We joined the group of people we had seen earlier. Up close, I realized they weren't just a random cluster. They were moving in intricate patterns, forming and reforming shapes that seemed to hold deep meaning. Without a word, Clarice and I found our places in the living mandala.
Time lost all meaning. We could have been there for minutes or hours. The boundaries between our bodies began to blur. I felt connected to everyone around me, to the sand, to the sea, to the stars above. It was as if I could feel the rotation of the Earth, the pulsing of the universe.
As the effects of Grandma's Tea began to wane, I found myself lying on my back, staring up at the night sky. The stars seemed to wink at me, sharing cosmic secrets. Clarice's hand found mine, and we lay there in comfortable silence.
When I finally managed to speak, my voice sounded strange to my own ears. "That was...," I said.
Clarice turned to me, her eyes reflecting the starlight. "Welcome to the real Goa," she said with a smile. "This is just the beginning."
As the last tendrils of the experience faded away, I knew that my perception of reality had been forever altered. Goa had revealed a hidden facet of itself to me, and I was eager to explore more.
As GP wrapped up his wild tale, I caught his eyes flick to the menu. Just for a second, but long enough for me to notice... something. Satisfaction? A hint of naughtiness? It was gone too quick to tell.
The chatter continued, but I was distracted. As we were wrapping up, I couldn't help but sneak a peek at that menu.
"Grandma's Tea - ₹250"
Well, I'll be damned.
Walking out into the muggy August night, my head was spinning. Had GP spotted that before spinning his yarn? How much of that story had he pulled out of thin air?
I watched him saunter off, cracking jokes with the others. Classic GP. Always dancing on that line between fact and fiction.
Hailing a cab, I shook my head, grinning. Did it even matter? Real or not, GP's story was exactly why we had these dinners. A little excitement, a dash of mystery – the perfect spice for our routine lives.
Next time though, I'm definitely ordering that tea. Who knows? I might get a story of my own out of it.