Opinion Bed-chai pe charcha

Sen is being unfairly pilloried over her other comment, that the political violence we are seeing is a piffle compared to what her generation had experienced.

Asansol, a junction at the heart of the one of the oldest divisions of the Indian railways, is steeped in a long tradition of bed tea. Here, the line going “upcountry” (as English railwaymen termed north India) forks into the main line via Patna and the Grand Chord via Gaya. Another line connects the busy junction with the Sahibgunj Loop, opened to traffic in 1866. Passengers on these lines with evocative names have been plied with bed tea in their bunks since colonial times. And the railwaymen quartered here for generations have institutionalised bed tea in the town. The fortunate sip it from porcelain in their homes, the less fortunate from thick tumblers at tea stalls. Which, in Asansol, are conveniently located wherever one tumbles out of bed. Didi takes care of all.

But in our troubled times, the great tradition is sometimes broken. Trains do not run on time, and the bed-tea is late. No chai, no charcha. Moon Moon Sen, Trinamool Congress candidate in Asansol, did not learn and could not tell of the mayhem her party workers had wrought in the constituency because her bed-tea was served late. The workers had got their tea right on the button, while she slept, oblivious. Suitably energised, they had got a head start on the day.

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But Sen is being unfairly pilloried over her other comment, that the political violence we are seeing is a piffle compared to what her generation had experienced. This is the honest truth. The streets of Kolkata, the state capital, have seen political workers in police helmets running amok with police lathis. Lethal attacks were fairly commonplace. But not any more. Didi takes care of all. Smell the bed-tea. Go back to sleep. Don’t get excited until May 23. There’s no future in it.