Confessions of a tea purist

 Confessions of a TEA PURIST 

For most of my life, I was what you might call a proud tea loyalist. Morning, mid-morning, late afternoon—tea was my constant companion. Strong, no sugar, a dash of milk. People tried to lure me to the dark side (read: coffee) over the years. Some tried persuasion, others trickery—one even offered me a fancy mocha frappe with enough chocolate and whipped cream to be mistaken for dessert—but I held firm. I was a tea man.

Until that day.

I was at a hospital, waiting, idle, when out of nowhere, a strange feeling came over me. Not nerves. Not anxiety. It was… a craving. For coffee. Coffee?! I blinked. It had never happened before. Not once. But there it was, clear as daylight. I wanted coffee.

Now, if you’ve ever stood in front of a café counter without a clue, you’ll understand the quiet panic that followed. Coffee ordering is no small feat. It’s a language. Cappuccino, macchiato, cold brew, ristretto, flat white—and that’s just the beginning. People order coffee like sommeliers order wine: “One decaf soy caramel macchiato, extra hot, half-pump vanilla, no foam, with a dash of cinnamon.”

I didn’t want to ask for a latte and end up with something I didn’t like or understand.

So I did what any sensible person in the 21st century does: I googled. After a quick crash course, I decided cappuccino was my safest bet. Coffee, milk, froth. No extra shots, no syrups, no drama. I walked up to the counter with quiet confidence, ordered “one cappuccino, please,” and gave nothing away. The salesgirl smiled and nodded like I was a regular. She’d never know it was the first time in my life I was ordering a coffee.

And just like that, I crossed over.

Now here’s the funny part: I didn’t just stop at one cup. From that day on, I began having a coffee every afternoon at work. 3 PM sharp. Like clockwork. But I didn’t abandon tea entirely. No, no. I was still loyal—tea at 10 AM, coffee at 3 PM. A peaceful coexistence.

Until this morning.

It was 10 o’clock, and something felt… different. I looked at the clock, then at my mug. No desire for tea. Not a hint. Instead, I wanted coffee. At 10.

My peon, who sees himself as something of a coffee expert, lit up. He grinned, disappeared for a moment, then returned with a steaming cup and proudly declared:

"Sahab, main aapko ek badhiya coffee banakar deta hoon — sabko meri coffee pasand aati hai."

I suspect he’s been waiting years for this moment.

Life’s funny that way. Sometimes all it takes is a hospital waiting room and a sudden, unexplained urge to switch sides. I still love tea. But coffee—well, let’s just say we’ve grown close. One cup at a time.