Savor Life Like a Cup of Freshly Brewed Tea

There’s something oddly comforting about that first sip of freshly brewed tea. The warmth, the aroma, the subtle balance of bitterness and sweetness—it hits different. But have you ever thought how life is a lot like that cup of tea?

We crave stability. The perfect brew.
But here's the catch: no matter how good the tea is, if you let it sit too long, it loses its essence.
It cools down. It goes stale.
The flavor fades.

Life works the same way.

We often want things to be “just right.” A settled routine, a well-ordered day, an ideal job, a perfect relationship.
And sure—when everything is set just right, it feels amazing.
But if we try to freeze that moment, refuse to stir things up, we miss out on the very essence of life: change, flavor, growth.

A life that never stirs is like tea that’s been left too long—it becomes bland.

So what do we do?

Every morning, we need to brew a fresh cup.
New hopes, new energy, new intentions.
Maybe today it's sweet with joy, maybe strong with struggle, maybe spiced with adventure or mellowed by silence.

Some days, you might get the mix wrong.
Too bitter. Too watery.
But that's okay. Brew it again tomorrow.

And here's a small but powerful trick—always save a little bit of today’s warmth, a little learning, a little joy. That becomes your starter for tomorrow’s brew.
Your essence carries forward.

And if someday, you run out of strength, run out of warmth—there's no shame in borrowing a little from someone else.
A friend's laughter, a stranger's kindness, a memory, a prayer—anything can reignite your spirit.

What matters is this:
Don’t live life as a leftover.
Live it freshly.
Consciously.
With flavor.

Because life isn’t meant to be preserved—it’s meant to be tasted.

Aniket Kumthekar

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How the Punjabis and Their Green Revolution Destroyed Bong Male Sexuality: A Tragicomedy in Five Acts

Once upon a time in the hazy, intellectual bylanes of North Calcutta, amidst the aroma of cha and the hum of Rabindra Sangeet, there thrived a special species: **the Bong male**. Clad in a crushed kurta, jholaswinging from one shoulder, and debating Trotsky in a coffee house, he was the undisputed hero of his own black-and-white Satyajit Ray film. But then came the ** Green Revolution ** and with it, the Punjabis, their tractors, their turbans, and their testosterone. And thus began the slow, cruel erosion of the Bong male’s sexual confidence. Act I: The Rise of the Wheat Warrior In Punjab, they were growing wheat; in Bengal, we were still chewing on rice with mustard oil and talking about the “soul of the nation.” The Punjabi khet-majoor was lifting sacks and pumping water, while the Bong babu was lifting spirits with Tagore recitations. The Bong male, whose idea of a workout was adjusting the ceiling fan string, suddenly found himself compared to a muscle-bound Sunny Deol shouting “d...
Read more

The Ethics of Sleeping With 4 People and Still Saying You’re Lonely

It starts with an Instagram story: A cup of chai, sunlight streaming through the window, and the caption — “Feeling empty today. Craving connection 💔🌫️” Meanwhile, you've got: One situationship in Bangalore who sends voice notes at 2 a.m. A sneaky link in Pune with excellent abs and zero emotional range. A queer cuddle buddy in Delhi who reads you Audre Lorde after sex. And an ex you “accidentally” keep hooking up with during retrogrades. But sure, you’re “lonely.” Modern Loneliness: Now With Multiple People and No One to Text First We live in the era of abundance without intimacy. You’ve got four people in your bed on rotation, two dating apps still buzzing, and yet you’re scrolling Twitter at 1 a.m. hoping a stranger’s sad meme will understand you. You say you want "deep connection." But you flinch when someone asks, “Where do you see this going?” You're not heartbroken. You're just emotionally gluten intolerant. Queer, Poly, and Perp...
Read more

The Civilisational Role of Storytelling

The Civilisational Role of Storytelling: Why Bharat Remembers Civilizations do not perish because their cities fall or their rulers die. They perish when they forget who they are. In the world of Game of Thrones , the Three-Eyed Raven symbolizes this axiom. He sees all that has happened, all that is happening, and all that will. He does not wage wars or pass judgments—he remembers. His memory is civilization itself. That is why the Night King targets him first. Because when memory dies, identity dies. The boundary between the living and the dead collapses. This allegory, though fictional, captures a very real truth—particularly relevant to Bharat, whose civilizational identity has survived precisely because it remembers. Memory as Resistance In the face of relentless invasions—first Arab, then Turkic, then Mughal—Bharat’s civilizational memory became its strongest armor. From the first Arab raids on Sindh in the 8th century by Muhammad bin Qasim, to the brutal campaigns of Ghazni...
Read more