The raindrops create a soft percussion as they bounce off the tea leaves, so green and slick with rain, and the plastic poncho sticking to my arms. The hillside that stretches out in front of me resembles a sort of topiary jigsaw, with acres of neatly trimmed tea bushes separated by swirling paths.
Behind the plantation’s rolling hills, mist-shrouded peaks jut into a dull, stone-coloured sky. I am in Wayanad, north-eastern Kerala, with my husband...
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