The Coriander Tea

Rainy evenings have always been special in our home. As soon as the clouds gather, the atmosphere inside changes.Raindrops tap on the windows, the roof hums like a drum, and everyone gathers in the living room, waiting for tea.

 That evening was no different. Outside, the rain poured heavily. Father was reading the newspaper, mother was busy with her knitting, and we siblings were listening to the rhythm of the rain.

Suddenly, my younger brother announced: “Today, I will make the tea!” We all stared at him in disbelief. This was the same brother who preferred video games over the kitchen. But his confidence was contagious,We froze. This was the same boy who treated the kitchen like forbidden territory.
But his confidence was dazzling, so we agreed, half‑curious, half‑amused. 

 He entered the kitchen like a soldier on a mission. First, he opened the cupboard and began searching for tea leaves. He pulled out jars one by one sugar, salt, turmeric, cumin.

Finally, he found two jars,one with green tea leaves and another with coriander seeds.

He frowned, scratching his head. “Which one is the real tea?” he whispered to himself. He tried to recall how mother prepared tea. He remembered her scooping dark leaves into boiling water, adding milk, sugar, and sometimes ginger. But these jars looked confusing both green, both leafy. He sniffed the coriander.

“Smells fresh… maybe this is the special tea mom uses.” Then he sniffed the green tea. “Too light, too fancy. Mom never uses this.” His logic was simple,coriander looked more homely, more authentic.

Decision made...coriander it was. Recipe in His Head He replayed mother’s recipe in his mind,Boil water. Add tea leaves. Add milk and sugar,Strain and serve.

 He followed each step with determination. Water boiled furiously, coriander leaves swirled inside like tiny dancers. He added milk, which turned the mixture pale green. Sugar followed, dissolving quickly. He stirred with pride, convinced he had created something extraordinary.

 The adventure didn’t end in the kitchen it truly began when my brother started arranging the tea tray.

The Serving Dilemma Now came the grand finale serving the tea. He opened the crockery cabinet and faced another puzzle, cups and saucers.Should the cup go on top of the saucer, or the saucer on top of the cup? He tried both, giggling at his own confusion.

Finally, he placed the cup neatly on the saucer, proud of his “professional” presentation.

 Next came the sugar pot. He opened the cupboard, saw two identical jars one with sugar, the other with salt.To him, they looked exactly the same.

He sniffed quickly, shrugged, and guessed. Unfortunately, his guess was wrong. Into the sugar pot went salt, neatly spooned and proudly presented.Then he remembered mother always kept milk nearby. He opened the fridge, pulled out a jug of milk, and poured it straight into the serving pot.

But the milk was ice‑cold, fresh from the fridge. He thought, “Milk should be covered, so it stays pure,” and placed the lid tightly. He didn’t realize that hot tea and cold milk would clash in the strangest way.

The Grand Entry With a tray full of cups, saucers, sugar pot, and milk jug, he marched into the living room like a waiter in a five‑star hotel. His chest puffed with pride.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your tea is served!” We all leaned forward eagerly. The tea looked… unusual. Instead of the familiar brown, it was light green, almost herbal. Father raised an eyebrow, mother smiled nervously, and we siblings exchanged curious glances.

 We took the first sip. Silence.Then, as the taste hit our tongues, our faces twisted in shock. It was grassy, spicy, and nothing like tea.A strange aroma spread through the house,and Mother asked gently, “Son, what exactly did you put in this?

Mother guessed, “Perhaps he added too much ginger.” 

He replied with innocent pride: “I used coriander instead of tea leaves… because both are green!”

The room erupted in laughter. Father joked, “If we drink this every day, we’ll all turn green.” My sister teased,“From now on, we’ll call it ‘Coriander Special Tea.’”

The Gossip and Giggles That laughter lasted late into the night. Everyone retold the incident in their own style. Mother smiled and said, “At least he tried that’s what matters.”

Just when the laughter seemed unstoppable, father suddenly raised his hand and said, “Enough teasing! Let’s not forget he tried something new today.” The room fell silent for a moment.

My brother looked nervous, unsure whether he was about to be scolded or praised. Mother smiled warmly. “Yes, mistakes happen, but courage matters more. He went into the kitchen, experimented, and served us with pride. That deserves appreciation.”

 Then came the surprise. Father reached into his wallet, pulled out a crisp 100‑rupee note, and placed it in my brother’s hand.

Mother followed, giving another 100‑rupee note. “This is for your effort,” she said.“Not for the taste, but for the spirit of trying.”

 My brother’s eyes widened in disbelief. He had expected laughter, maybe even a lecture, but not a reward. Suddenly, his face lit up with joy.

He held the notes high like trophies, grinning from ear to ear. Father turned to us and said, “Now clap for him! He deserves it.” We all burst into applause, clapping loudly, cheering, and laughing at the same time.

The sound of claps mixed with the patter of rain outside, creating a rhythm of celebration.My brother bowed dramatically, pretending to be a chef receiving an award. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, imitating a film star.

That made us laugh even harder. And truly, that innocent mistake gave us a memory we still cherish.
Rainy nights in our home are always filled with gossip and giggles. Someone brings up an old story, and the laughter begins again.

Since that day, “Coriander Tea” has become a permanent part of our family folklore.Even the younger children now join in.Whenever it rains, they ask, “Will we have coriander tea today?” and the whole family bursts out laughing.

The Meaning Behind the Memory This incident shows that the real joy of family lies in small, ordinary moments.Whether the tea is made with ginger or coriander, the true flavor is in the laughter and togetherness.

 Today, as life keeps us busy in different directions, these stories are what bind us. The rain, the aroma of tea, and the sound of shared laughter this is the essence of happiness. 
NOOR EY ISHAL