Ode To A Chai

When it comes to things in a cup, there is nothing in this world so good as street chai. If you get to the shack early enough, you can watch him make it. First he puts a handful of powdered milk in the rough aluminum kettle and then pours in water of questionable origin and mixes it with his hands that have been who-knows-where. More water is next and the gas fire is lit under the kettle. He takes a small handful of loose tea leaves and throws it into the pot as it begins to simmer and reaches for a finger of ginger which he roughly chops and then smashes with the side of his knife, right there on the small counter where millions of ruppees have passed. Into the pot the ginger mash goes, along with cinamon, pepper, and half a dozen other spices.

Simanta The Chai Guy with his wife and son.

A small dipper sort of like a half cup measure goes in and out of the pot, stirring it as it comes to a rolling boil. Workmen waiting for their bus are starting to gather, ruppees in hand, bindis burning at their lips. When he determines things are just right, the chai-wallah fills a well worn tray with impossibly thin plastic cups. In one hand he has a fine mesh seive that he holds over a cup and with the dipper he ladles the foaming liquid into the seive and below, your cup is filled with delight. You grab the cup by the rim because if you try to hold the sides not only will you burn your fingers, but you will crush the cup whose thickness must be measured in microns, not millimeters.

Hand over your ten ruppee note and sip your chai. Stay out of the bindi smoke as it burns your eyes and smells curiously like it's laced with marijuana. The workman aren't used to seeing a Westerner at their stall and they steal sideways glances at you. Pay them no mind at first and simply savor the sounds, smells, and sights of a busy Indian street corner. Sip. Inhale. Listen. Sip again.

Your cup is now drained and you crush it and throw it to the ground, a hard habit to get into when you are used to trashcans on every street. If the chai-wallah has coins he will now give you your change. If not, he hands you three pieces of wrapped candy or gum to make up the difference. Now you can smile and greet the workmen with the little bit of Hindi you know. Nine times out of ten, they'll be delighted that you took the time to try and learn their language and if you would like, you can snap a picture. Make sure and show them their image when you're done. A smiling "namaskaar" and you are on your way to continue your journey in this incredible country.

 

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