time of the day is fine for a nice, hot steaming cup of tea. The kettle whistles ... the tea bag is dipped in ... hot water poured ... some sugar and milk stirred in .. and bingo! Your cup of tea is ready!
Imagine if there was more to it. Like you had to put on a pair of socks, wait your turn to drink from a bowl, watch which side of the bowl you drink your tea from, drink it in three-and-a-half sips and contemplate on aesthetics and poetry through the whole affair. Huh?
That's the Japanese tea ceremony for you - only more solemn and ritualistic.
It dates back to the 15th century and walks the same course as the Ikebana. Both were arts practised by men until the Meiji government came into power in the early nineteenth century and turned them over to women. Since then, it has remained with them.
Steeped in ritual, this ancient Japanese art is today a dying practice, preserved primarily in the country's cultural centres to celebrate its glorious past. Observed largely in teahouses or in affluent homes that could afford the luxury of time and entertainment, the ceremony symbolised warm, sincere hospitality and an appreciation of Japanese culture. Today, however, it is carried out in fewer homes - not necessarily affluent and is not just enacted as a mark of hospitality but also to fan the embers of a dying cultural practice.
Last week, I was invited to a tea ceremony by a Japanese friend in Dubai and had the pleasure of watching her kimono-clad friends enact the ceremony in all its solemnity. The guests - dressed in kimono and white socks -- filed into the guestroom and sat -- cross-legged and straight-backed -- on the mat their hostess had spread out for them. In the corner stood the special utensils she would use to make them their bowl of tea. At the side was the kettle called the kama, a tin of green tea powder, a whisk, a bowl and a cloth to purify all the utensils.
Silence prevailed. The hostess entered, right leg first, with a bowl in hand, and walked marionette-like to the place where the utensils were kept and set it down before them. She repeated the entry and exit until all additional accessories were in place. Then she bowed, rose and stepped back. One guest rose, walked up to the kama, bowed low before it in appreciation, rose and walked over to a flower arrangement and a painting, looked them over, and bowed low again to show appreciation for the painter, rose and went back to her seat. The act was repeated by each of the guests until all were done.
Then the hostess came back to her seat, offered each of her guests a piece of chakaiseki (a sweet symbolising stone that is meant to alleviate your hunger), bowed low again before the kama and began the art of preparing tea. The preparation and serving consists of precise hand and body movements and is considered an art form.
No act is repeated in the same manner twice. If thick tea (koicha) is served the first time, thinner tea (usucha) is served the next time. If a bowl is wiped twice the first time to purify it, it is wiped only once the next time. The frothy brew was offered one at a time at this tea ceremony. The person who drank from the bowl asked to be excused for being the first to drink from it. The whole process is ideally stretched over a period of four hours.
This one, however, was relatively shorter but it acknowledged the same Japanese principle -- that every human encounter is a singular occasion, which will never recur again in the same manner. Therefore, participants were expected to savour every aspect of the tea fully.
In conclusion, the guests expressed their appreciation for the tea and admiration for the art of the hostess and we left as she watched from the door of her home.
The ceremony was, by itself, a beautiful experience but when I returned home that evening, I was grateful to just recline on my couch, cup my mug and take a sip of the good old cup of English tea.
By Vijaya George
