Not Petrichor, Resinous.

This is the smell after it rains on Selim Hill. It has a subtle, woody and smoky character – like someone gently smoking a pipe, invisible behind the mist. It drives me mad and I want to soak it all up. Never before had I ever experienced this beautiful concoction of wood, water and wind.

She went on with her daily activities accustomed to the rain and mist. It is at this time that Dalle Khursani, the small, red, hot and spicy chilli, grows and deepens its spirit and fire. Seemingly small and innocuous, it almost invites you to underestimate it. She plucked the ones that were ready. Some how she was reminded of a time when she was as fiery…before she became as bland as chicken.

Shielded by the mist of the mountains lie many secrets buried in the heart of the Himalayas.

As she sharpened her khukri, she could not help but imagine plunging it into his drunken liver. It would be easy peasy. But then there would be the police, courts and hell to pay. Unleash the mighty leeches and let them suck him dry…. but she would have to take care of the dead body. If only a leopard would polish him off for its own midday meal!

The blood red dalle peppers beckoned her from behind the misty curtain. For those who have never encountered this Lady in Red, its intense heat can numb the senses. It can excite you and fire your blood. A friend to a friend, but enemies beware.

Mortar and pestle gently erased the perfect round shape and made it into a paste. When he reached for the bottle, she had already mixed lethal amounts of the Dalle Paste and stirred in all her resentment and years of torture.

As the heat stung his tongue, he went crazy. He ran out of the house like a mad elephant. The mist and clouds were waiting for him. They beckoned him towards the direction already chosen for him. One step went wrong, and he fell straight into the abyss, enveloped by the Himalayas themselves.

As if on cue, the clouds broke and raindrops showered thunderously. Peacocks hurried out and put on quite a show. Behind the smoke screen, angry birds ate all the remaining Dalle Peppers (their favourite). The evidence had been devoured.

She went to the kitchen, scooped rice onto a plate and added the leftover Dalle Paste. She ate like she had never eaten before. She could feel life rekindling within herself.

Selim Hill Tea Garden had been privy to the motive, the plot and the meticulous planning of the accomplices. The intent to kill was a foregone conclusion.

The question that lingered in my mouth as I took a sip of the Dorje Roasted Tea was who or what was the main accused? Was it the invisible man behind the mist, was it the hungry abyss, was it the woman or was it the JAANLEVA KHURSANI (murderous chilli)?

write to me at Editor@Dorjeteas.com