My Experiments With Tea

By Sanjay G. Singh

“Choudhary Chai Choudhary Chai”, ‘Garam masala Chai”, “Chai- Coffee- Tea- Samosa” “Chai Bolo Chai”…

[Chai means Tea]

We all have heard the above tunes, and we also did say them in the same style, didn’t we? I am Arjun from Vijayawada district, working as an Assistant Architect at a firm, and am travelling to my home city Mumbai after so many years. To hear my good old “Chai-wallah” friends chant the “Chai rhythm” was enchanting and heavenly to ears. I heard those tunes for the first time when I was five while travelling to my mother’s city, Jaipur in train. All I did then was to repeat after them, which would make them stop, and look if any of us wanted the Chai. My father who never spent a penny for my new toys would instantly buy me a cup of Chai. Somewhere, We Indians have come to a point, that Chai is an elixir, and is supposed to be given even to the toddlers. I, who called Chai-Chai for fun, was given the cup of Tea now to hold and drink. I remember how I used to drink in the style of my late grandfather. He used to blow air in the hot cup, and sipped in a really strange noise, like “pssssssrrrrrrrrrrr”. I was not sure if I could make such noise, but yes with my little lips, I tried my best to imitate his way, and my family would burst into laughter looking at me imitate my grandfather. And the Tea felt heavenly from the very first time on, but there was something difficult with the Chai, that I did not understand.

I don’t know if it was the food I ate or the Chai, but I always ended up going to the toilet after I finished my cup of Chai. I was only five, but imagine; troubling your mother multiple times a day not because of the food, but a Chai that God knew came from which strange corner of the world.

I had turned nine at the time I realized Chai is not a want, not a need, but a necessity in order to survive in the world. I had now learnt to order the Chai from my School canteen that costed me four rupees. It was yummilicious when Gangaram, the Tea master of the school canteen aged 15 made the Tea. One day, Gangaram was chased out of the school, after one of the students’ parents had complained that a minor is working at the school’s canteen. The school was warned, and for the next two years, there was no canteen in the school. I still remember my terrible headaches and mood swings just at the age of 10. Tea helped me to stay awake in many of my boring classes, and due to no canteen policy in the school for two years; I now ended up sleeping in the classroom which made my Teachers throw me out of the classroom. I had become so violent with other friends at the school; shouting for no reason, crying out loud for petty reasons, and even to hit my innocent friends who scored higher than me in the exam. I remember how I used to throw my heavy bag at the couch and scream, “Chaaaaaaaaaaaai” when I returned back to my home.

My mom without any denial prepared me a delicious Chai, a Chai that took away all my problems of the day. The Chai’s taste healed the hitting of my Math Teacher, the embarrassment I faced on that day before Shivani, my best friend; and the loss in football match because of my fat friend Raju. By that time, my whole family came to realize my love towards Chai. Mahaveer uncle, one of my relatives, also suggested my mother to put a hold to my Tea drink on every morning and evening. He was terrified by the answer of my mother who told; ‘he drinks Tea four to five times a day.’

And I am not guilty your honour. Ha-ha!

On every “Ekadashi” (eleventh lunar day), my parents asked me to avoid any intake of food (i.e.) wheat or rice. However, there was an exception for milk and fruit eaters. As far as I was concerned; give me my Tea and I wouldn’t need any food for the rest of the day. My parents were realizing their mistake by this time.

I told them I will stop slowly, and not to not take away my right to drink Chai suddenly.

My decision was followed at my home, and I was provided with three cups of Chai a day insTead of five. Ironically, even three Chai a day wouldn’t satisfy me, it felt like Hell to me. I was 12 by the time when the canteen was brought again to my school. I rushed to the canteen to see if Gangaram was back, but sadly, there was an elderly man of more than seventy who prepared the Tea now. I gave it a try, ordered the Tea which was six rupees now. I closed my eyes and slowly sipped the piece of work done by the old gentleman. I immediately kept the cup on the table, and ran like a cheetah to the restroom of my school to vomit. It was the most terrible Chai I had in my life of 12 years. I usually finished my cup of Chai, because my good uncle friend, who used to sing poetries of praises on Chai; told me: ‘Never disrespect the Chai! Even if you think it’s bad, finish your cup.’ But that day, was not the day to follow my uncle’s words. That Chai by all means was a poison; I wouldn’t give that particular Chai even to my worst of enemies.

The efforts of my family to control my Tea were going in vain. I ended up carrying the flask of Tea along with me from the nearby Tea stall, who prepared a Tea, a Proper light reddish brown looking milk Tea which was no less than an Anti-rocket missile, which saved my head from any kind of invaders in the name of pain or stress. I was now in grade 10. Not sure of the foreign lands, but in the Indian society, the child’s marks in the high school, especially in 10th and 12th grade HAD to be good or beyond good. Forget being below average, there is no way one can be average. That is the amount of pressure that is weighed on the little students’ little brains. I was doing well initially, but the pressure of scoring more than my other cousins was really making me sick. The Cycle tests and Quarterly tests went well with the power dosage of my midnight Chais, where I sat awake preparing for my exams. By this time I had learnt the Chai’s recipe. I was forbidden to come closer to the kitchen’s gas-stove. But now, Arjun is a grown man and he needs Tea. Who can stop Arjun from having his Chai? asked I to myself.

At midnight, at around 1:35 AM, my mother woke up in fear hearing something hitting the ground, the sound was too loud and continual that she thought as if someone is breaking something.

She woke my father up, saying: ‘Listen, some thief had entered our home’.

My father too was awake now. Came out slowly; moving one step at a time with the phone’s torch on, the two reached out in the hall to find the lights and fan turned on. They were both baffled at what was going on. They slowly peeped inside the room of mine, where I was missing. The distressing parents then called my name so loudly, that I dropped the ginger masher on my foot. I screamed in unbearable pain.

The worried parents of mine came reaching me to the kitchen, saying: ‘Where is He?’

‘Where is who?’ I asked in a squeaking voice holding my foot.

‘What was the noise?’ enquired my father.

I explained him that it was me who was hitting the ginger to prepare myself some Tea.

My angry father yelled at me asking: ‘Why is the Tea so important? You are 14 now, and even those aged sixty will not drink Tea the way you drink. Do you realize the time, and do you realize you have an exam tomorrow?

Before I could present my view, Dad issued a huge statement that fell on me like an atom bomb.

He said: ‘No more Tea/ milk in my home from today.’

I never saw my father this angry even during the time I failed my exam in 8th standard. I thought he was just angry, and didn’t mean what he said. On the next morning, I woke up to realize that my father meant each and every single word. Although I liked the street’s local Tea, but nothing in the world was as yummy as my mother’s traditional Chai. I packed my school bag, and saw my thermal flask missing from my bag.

I shouted; ‘Where’s my FLASK?’

‘No more Tea from home as well as outside!’ said my mother.

I was petrified by the sudden actions at the Arjun Vihar (my home name). I did not utter a word, because my parents, especially my father was really angry, and to get back my “Tea Right” from him is like asking for a piece of meat from the Lion of the jungle.

I silently left to the school, and gave my exam without Chai today for the first time in so many years of my existence on this planet. Every second at the exam hall felt like a custodial torture to me. I could see the words dancing on the question paper. I knew it was a mirage, but this was a feeling I never felt before. I couldn’t feel the trauma anymore; I completed my exam as soon as possible and left the exam hall.

I had only seven rupees in my bag, I knew that the six rupee Tea will make me running to the washroom to puke again, and so I tried escaping from the school’s back gate where an elderly watchman, who was coincidentally having his Tea. I wished that old man was me enjoying his heavenly cup of Tea looking at the silent roads outside. I wore a hand kerchief on my face like a robber; and ran as fast as I could with my small legs. The old man before he could react, I reached the back gate and escaped the bad Tea. I went to Krishna Tea House which was five hundred meters away from my school to have an extremely delicious cup of Chai. I then handed him three coins worth seven rupees. The waiter asked for three more rupees, for the Tea.

‘Ten rupees?’ I asked the waiter to confirm if I heard it right.

I then started looking in my bag if I had three more rupees, which I didn’t have. It felt like my Math Teacher was observing me during my Math exam. I asked him for a moment; and as soon as he turned to the other table, I again ran away smashing the doors open.

I walked slowly kicking stones that came in my way. ‘What have I become?’ I asked to myself with a sense of guilt. But I did not have any other option. It was like a dopamine to me. I was uncontrollable. In just 12 more hours of time I had taken three hundred rupees from my father’s pocket for my weekly dosage of Tea. I felt like a thief, a robber and a fraud.

But I forgot all my crimes as I took a sip of my daily Chai. I did this for several more months, but one day I thought, this must all come to an end. I asked my beloved Uncle, to help me control my Tea love. I knew in the whole world, only he understood the Tea better and only he can give me a better solution for my Tea addiction.

When asked for the remedy, my uncle said: ‘It is merely impossible to quit the Tea addiction, but if you catch up with one other habit along with Tea, I guess you might find your new interest. I am not suggesting you follow me in that case, because I chose smoking and that is entirely wrong. But I think something like chewing gum might help you.’

I was jumping in joy thinking that my uncle has provided me the Brahmastra (The mightiest weapon in the Hindu Mythology) to tackle my Tea addiction. The next day in the morning, I started using the chewing gum for the replacement of Tea. The taste of chewing gum was indeed a worth replacement of “my long time love: the Chai” because of its initial sweet taste. But it somewhere missed to create an urge which the Tea gave in me. It was now five in the evening; I couldn’t help but to take another chewing gum from my pocket to overcome my Tea urge. The more I ate chewing gums, the more I realized that there’s nothing like my old love. The chewing gum tasted sweet initially to end up tasting like cotton along with a paper. But when compared to my evergreen love, Chai, from the very first sip till the end of it, tasted exactly the same. I rushed to a nearby Tea stall to end my life’s worst decision of not drinking the Tea.

I joined my college now to start my B. Arch. Life was more hectic and stressful. Only a cup of Chai helped me to overcome my college stress. Gladly I was in my college’s hostel, miles away from my family’s restrictions. I started a Tea lovers’ group at my college campus, where all the Tea lovers would gather, drink Tea and talk life. A lot more like coffee houses.

In the final year of my college, after so many submissions of my assignments, projects and weekly reports on internships; I realized I was now drinking less Tea than ever. Was it the stress, the time that the college and the institutions had taken from me, or the fear of future, I didn’t know? But after a long time, I felt good. My weight was now more than ever. My hair thinning and hair graying was now in control. Although I tried my best not to agree to the myths like hair damages and skin allergies due to Chai, unfortunately I was experiencing the same over time.

But the time also made me realize; that drinking excess Tea made of milk with no limitation has what made me suffer from hair damages and facial acne infections. Today, after twenty eight years of my existence, I drink just one cup a Tea in the morning and two at random days if the stress is unbearable.

Of all the Chais, as I said earlier; my Mother’s Chai was the best. What made the Chai special was this magic ingredient, which I think almost every mother’s kitchen would have. And that was: water and milk with some Tea added, quantity-wise Ginger, Cardamom and a ball of black pepper smashed into pieces to be added in the Tea to boil it properly. Today, I work at the most reputed firms of the city, and I get thousands of opportunities to sneak peek into how the new Chai-wallahs of the town are. But, for the last three years now, for the whole of family, I prepare the Tea all by myself and nobody in my family looks out to drink it from elsewhere, because of my extraordinary recipe that my long gone Mother taught me.

By Sanjay G. Singh