Occasionally, there are mornings that are perfectly still. Perfectly peaceful. The morning air is just the slightest bit damp, the leaves and flowers are plump and shiny with dew.
I'm sipping my cup of dark, malty tea. A single estate Assam. Its strength and smoothness a stark contrast to the quiet softness surrounding me. What would it be like to be standing in the midst of the tea plantation of Assam Mangalam in the early morning mist? How would it feel to pluck the perfect leaves?