Tea Kadai Conversations Episode 07

 

1st February to 8th February

The full forum of regulars returned, and with Ravindra back from Pondicherry, the liveliness returned too. He shared cheerful stories from his trip and the delightful time spent with his niece, keeping the conversation animated and flowing.

We were also joined by Mr. Sam, a friendly gentleman in his late thirties, along with his young son Joshua. Their presence brought fresh energy into our otherwise predictable circle of retirees. It felt good to have younger voices mingle with our seasoned discussions.

But the real star of the evening was something else,  pani puris, newly introduced at the shop.

Pani puri — those tiny, crisp, hollow puris filled with potatoes, chickpeas, spices, tangy tamarind chutney, and spicy mint water — is famous for its explosion of tastes and textures.

However, our chef seemed to have interpreted “spicy” rather literally. The teekha pani contained so many green chillies that even the bravest among us had tears streaming down our faces. It was less a snack and more a test of endurance!

Seeing the seniors struggle heroically, I informed Narayanan, the owner, that such fiery enthusiasm might not suit our age group. To his credit, he immediately retreated to his kitchen and returned with a milder, better-balanced version. That gesture was much appreciated.

To close the evening on a triumphant note, Ravindra proudly announced that he had purchased a bottle of Johnnie Walker whisky and a bottle of vodka from Pondicherry, claiming they cost barely 70% of Chennai prices — a small financial victory that clearly delighted him.

On a more serious note, as mentioned earlier, the biopsy sample from my wife’s left eye was tested and confirmed as Follicular Lymphoma. The coming days will therefore be busy with oncologist consultations and PET scans.

All in all, they were simple, ordinary evenings — tea, snacks, familiar faces, and the quiet joy of companionship.

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8th February to 22nd February

The conversations during this period were less frequent for me, as I missed several evenings due to my wife’s ongoing medical appointments.

A couple of incidents within the campus, however, deserve mention.

An elderly gentleman, nearly 86 years old, passed away. His only son, who lives in America, did not come to India for the final rites. The ceremonies were conducted by the community maintenance team, as instructed by the son. At first glance, this felt strange. But as we discussed among ourselves, we also acknowledged that we do not know the circumstances that prevented him from coming. Therefore, no judgement.

It did, however, spark a meaningful reflection among us: perhaps we elders should not emotionally burden our children with expectations shaped by tradition. Times have changed, distances have widened, and responsibilities must be understood in context. Letting go gracefully may be a wisdom we need to cultivate.

In contrast, another senior gentleman and his wife donated ₹1 crore to the Army Welfare Fund last week. Such generosity is rare and admirable in today’s times. When I met him to convey my appreciation, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he had made a similar donation last year as well.

Acts of detachment on one hand, acts of generosity on the other — life in our little senior community continues to present quiet lessons.

On that reflective note, I close this episode of the tea shop conversations.

Tea Kadai Stories- Episode 06- 22nd Jan to 31st Jan

 

This week passed quietly, without much excitement, except for a small argument that arose out of some pointless discussions at the tea shop. During the exchange, Ravindra suddenly burst out loudly, accusing me of trying to influence his opinions and impose my views on him. As usual, he declared that it was his constitutional right to express whatever he felt and that he would not and could not be subdued.

One of the seniors present gently remarked, “Why have unpleasantness and arguments when we all have one step already in the grave?” That simple line struck a chord with me. I immediately withdrew from the discussion and decided not to comment unnecessarily on Ravindra’s opinions anymore. At this stage of life, peace of mind feels far more valuable than winning an argument.

I was also absent from the shop for nearly four days — two days because our cat was recovering from its health issues, and another two days to attend to my wife’s eye problem.

What we thought would be a routine visit to the ophthalmologist, merely to check the corrective lens prescribed for her left eye, unexpectedly opened up a new concern. The doctor noticed a lymphoid growth in the conjunctival area and advised a biopsy, especially considering her past history of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. The sample collection was scheduled for 30th January 2026.

As instructed, we went to Billroth Hospital, where the procedure is expected to take about thirty minutes and was completed within an hour. The collected sample was handed over to me, which I then submitted at Apollo Cancer Hospital for histopathology and Lymphoma Panel examination.

Now we wait for the report, expected in four days. I came across this statement which I feel is apt “Worrying does not reduce tomorrow’s trouble; it only reduces today’s strength.”

Tea Kadai Stories : Episode 05 -15th January to 21st January

 

Even though the tea shop remained closed for the Pongal holidays, the four of us continued to meet there every evening. We would sit outside for an hour or so, chatting freely about anything and everything—mostly utter nonsense—simply enjoying each other’s company and passing the time.

On 16th January, I couldn’t make it to the tea kadai. Our pet cat had to be taken to a veterinary hospital in Chennai, and by the time I returned to the gated community, the group had already dispersed.

The next day, 17th January, Mr. Chandrashekar—a retired LIC officer—joined our casual gathering. He spoke at length about his years of service and mentioned his one enduring regret: he had never learned Hindi. Because of this, he missed out on promotions and postings outside Tamil Nadu, which eventually resulted in a significantly reduced monthly pension. It was a quiet reminder of how small gaps can have lifelong consequences.

We also learned that Vibra Narayanan, the owner of the tea shop, had gone to Kodaikanal for the holidays, while Guru, the master who prepares the tea, had travelled to Madurai. That explained the stubbornly closed shutters.

On 18th January, we arrived once again with renewed hope that the shop would finally reopen. Unfortunately, the shutters were still down. That evening, our guest was Ms. Lakshmi Shilpa, the niece of our freelance journalist friend. She had come from Hyderabad—an MTech graduate and a part-time actor who had worked in a couple of Telugu films.

When she heard that my nephew directs advertisement films and is expected to begin work on a feature film soon, she asked for his contact details. I declined, explaining that it wouldn’t be appropriate to share his personal number. Instead, I suggested she approach him through proper professional channels—auditions, casting networks, and industry contacts. I told her that if she were ever selected for one of his films, she could then mention that she knew me.

Finally, on 19th January, the tea shop reopened. Dr. Mohandas, Ravindra, and I met for our usual hour of lively conversation. Unsurprisingly, the discussion soon drifted back to Ravindra’s ongoing struggle with the maintenance management over the gas meter issue.

Since Ravindra had lodged a police complaint, the Maraimalainagar police station informed him that the management had agreed to issue an apology letter for the eight-day disruption of gas service, along with nominal compensation for the inconvenience caused. Ravindra is still awaiting that letter from the Ashiana Maintenance Management.

His persistence—constant emails, relentless follow-ups, and firm arguments—along with police intervention, compelled the management to acknowledge their mistake. The incident sets an important precedent, ensuring that the maintenance team cannot take undue advantage of senior residents in the future.

 On 20th January, I was absent from the tea kadai once again, having gone to Vedanthangal Bird Sanctuary with a school classmate for bird photography. We managed to get a few good images of painted storks, darters, grey and white herons, and spotted owlets.

 

 

On 21st January, Dr. Mohandas was away in the city, so it was just Ravindra, Sundararajan, and me at the shop. We spent an hour talking about absolutely nothing—snacks, tea, laughter, and idle conversation—before quietly dispersing back to our homes.