From Bengal Fruits to Milwaukee Brews: A Tale of Tea and Terror

How a Lychee Tree, a Net, and My Mama’s Love Made Summers Unforgettable

When you’re the firstborn of the next generation, you’re often laden with expectations — but on the flip side, you’re also lavished with love and attention.

I was blessed with uncles on both sides of the family — my mama (maternal uncle) and kaka (paternal uncle) — who were more like friends than adults, and happily doubled as my babysitters. Even after I moved from Kolkata to Delhi, those bonds didn’t fade. In fact, they grew stronger every summer vacation, each trip back home a reaffirmation of their love.

My mama in particular always wanted to share the summer bounty of Bengal with his poor, starved niece living so far away in heathen Delhi — aam (mango), jamrul (rose apple), lichu (lychee), kul (Indian jujube)...

It was a constant battle with the bats and birds to keep the fruits on the trees long enough for them to ripen naturally. One summer, when we stepped into the courtyard, we saw mama’s handiwork: bunches of ripe lychees carefully wrapped in fishing net, thwarting those pesky bats and birds. How dare they poach on his niece’s rightful treasure!


Hanging High, Wrapped Tight — The Lychee Chronicles


It wasn’t just the fresh fruits that made those summers unforgettable. My dida (grandmother) would spend long afternoons turning ripe mangoes into glossy, chewy aamshotto (mango leather) and simmering kul into tangy, spicy achar (pickle). These little treasures would be carefully packed and carried back to Delhi, each bite a burst of Bengal sunshine during long school days far from home.

Later, when my mamima (aunt) joined the household, she took up the mantle with her own preserves. My mom, too, carried the legacy forward — making batches of aamshotto and achar right in Delhi, always timing them with her visits to San Diego or Milwaukee, so that a taste of home always arrived tucked in her suitcases.

My mama is no more, but those memories are etched in my heart. The love he poured into those small gestures continues to teach me how to love more deeply, more selflessly.

So imagine the rush of memory that flooded me when I recently came across Adagio’s lychee rose green tea. One sip, and I was transported back to that sun-dappled courtyard, filled with the smell of desi roses weaving their fragrance through the warm air, wrapped in my mama’s warm, protective embrace. All thanks to that lovely cup of tea.



Have you ever had a simple taste or smell — like a cup of tea — suddenly sweep you away to a cherished memory? I’d love to hear your stories. What flavors or aromas bring your own childhood summers to life? Share your memories with me — let’s savor those moments together.


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