NORTHEAST INDIA
A
CROSS ASSAM, THERE’S
a morning ritual that takes
place everywhere, from the
humblest village house to the
grandest old hotel. It has
heralded the start of the day here since
colonial times. Sometimes it’s a formal affair,
served with pomp and ceremony, but, more
often than not, it’s taken on the run, grabbed
from a street vendor or drunk quickly at a
pavement café. It’s the glue that binds Assam
together. Life here would be unthinkable
without the morning cup of tea – and, in
Assam, it comes hot, sweet and very strong.
Since the late 1830s, when British
settlers discovered the first wild camellia
bushes here, tea has grown into Assam’s
most lucrative industry. It’s the largest
tea-growing region in the world by area, and
produces enough tea every year to produce
6.3 billion cups – second only to southern
China in output. More than a million people
owe their livelihoods to it – from the pickers
in the fields and the workers in the factories
to the café owners, hoteliers, horticulturalists,
shippers, merchants, botanists, brokers,
auctioneers and exporters. Tea is more than
an industry here. It’s a way of life.
‘Without tea, Assam would grind to a halt,’
states Dhruba Jyoti Dowerah, who manages
eight of the region’s largest tea gardens,
covering thousands of acres around the
town of Jorhat. ‘For us, it’s more than
something nice to drink. It’s an obsession.
If you pricked my finger, I think I’d bleed tea.’
It’s a hot, sticky morning in Gatoonga
Garden. Tea bushes stretch into the distance
as far as the eye can see. Unlike other tea
areas like Darjeeling and Nilgiri, in Assam
there are no rolling hills or terraced slopes.
Here, the estates are pan-flat. Bushes are
planted in ruler-straight rows, interspersed
with irrigation channels, and acacia and
mimosa trees for shade. Still shiny with
dawn dew, the leaves glisten like glass
against the red soil. The tea-pickers have
already been working for an hour – it’s
vital that the picking is done early to retain
moisture and prevent midday scorching.
Sabitri Ganjam is one of the team of
tea-pickers working in Gatoonga today.
Her village is an hour’s walk away, and
she commutes to the garden every day on
foot. Dressed in a red cardigan, her head
protected from the sun by a broad-brimmed
hat, she works along the row, plucking out- Jorhat
Tea has been central to life in this part of India since
the 1830s. Meet tea-pickers and visit the plantations
in one of Assam’s most prestigious tea gardens
From the tea gardens, it’s a bumpy seven-hour drive
along winding mountain roads to reach northeast
India’s remotest corner, Nagaland.Banyan Grove is a colonial-era manor house
located in the middle of Gatoonga Garden. It’s
packed with historical details, from 19th-century
Indian artwork to antique four-poster beds. On
the veranda you can enjoy afternoon tea with
views of the gardens (from £80; book through
Heritage North East: heritagetourismindia.com).
Tours of the tea gardens and factory are free
for guests staying with Heritage North East;
otherwise, half-day tours cost £12 per person
(contact DJ Dowerah, [email protected]).Essentials
the tips from each bush before dropping
them into a bamboo basket on her back.
‘The best gardens, like ours, take only the
top two leaves and a bud from every bush,’
she says. ‘That means we harvest less tea,
but it’s top quality.’ She inhales the leaves’
scent: it’s grassy and floral, with a bitter,
astringent edge. ‘The aroma is good,’ she says.
‘I think we should have a fine crop this year.’
A mile away, Gatoonga’s processing factory
is getting ready for the coming season.
Engineers are stripping down machinery,
cleaning equipment and painting floors;
there’ll be no time for maintenance once the
season begins. The factory’s proximity to the
gardens minimises the time between picking
and processing, maximising freshness.
‘Ideally, the tea should be processed
within two hours of plucking,’ Dhruba says,
as he leads the way around the factory floor.
‘That’s a challenge, but it’s the best way to
ensure the quality. Now I think it’s time
we tasted some tea.’
He ducks through a doorway into the
factory’s tasting room, which looks like a
science lab. Along one side, a line of china
cups has been arranged on the worktop, one
brew for each of the estate’s signature teas.
They range from dark brown to burnt orange
and pale lemon, signifying the various
grades, leaf sizes and brewing strengths.
With the panache of a sommelier, Dhruba
tastes each in turn, swirling them round his
mouth, rinsing them across his gums before
spitting into a spittoon. ‘All India’s teas have
their own character,’ he says. ‘Darjeeling is
known for delicacy, but Assam is known for
strength. A well-rounded cup of Assam tea
should be malty and have a full, mellow
flavour. We like our teas to pack a punch.’
Pleased with the selection, he takes a last
sip and disappears into the factory. Out in
the fields it’s lunchtime and Gatoonga’s
tea-pickers are taking a break. Under the
shade of an acacia tree, they unpack their
tiffin tins and settle down for lunch. Before
long, a vehicle putters up the road and toots
its horn. It’s the tea van and, one by one, the
workers line up for their midday brew.
There’s plenty more work to do in the
gardens this afternoon, but in Assam, there’s
always time for one more cup of tea.Gatoonga’s tea-pickers
bear the weight of their
baskets on their heads