The Indian speciali-tea
Chai plays a leading role in the quirky drama of Indian life. It can be delicate or strong, flavoured or sublime, exclusive or 'cutting' but no matter where you are, a cup is never too far. Which other beverage can claim the status of a national drink?
It all began in earnest when Portugal’s Catherine of Braganza wiggled her booty across to England in 1661 to marry King Charles II. She arrived clutching the islands of Bombay in one hand and tea leaves in the other. The former gave the British the brightest sparkle in their jewel in the crown and the latter, albeit indirectly, gave India its tea.
Chubby Catherine loved swigging tea, or chá, in Portuguese, which had been introduced in Portugal through trade with China. Soon Charles was also slurping tea and sighing in appreciation at the fragrance and flavour of it all. And, because the beloved royal couple was doing so, soon the entire populace was going ‘what ho and a cup of tea’.
In the 1820s, driven by the desire to have their favourite beverage close at hand, the East India Company started cultivating vast tracts of land in Assam for tea.
Today, tea cultivation in India has grown exponentially to a point where we are counted amongst the top tea producers in the world.
But a gauge of how close this aromatic cuppa is to the Indian heart is the fact that even though our tea is sought after the world over, we consume 70 per cent of what we produce. For Indians, tea is so much more than a beverage. It is a conversation starter, a winter warmer, the mainstay of college canteen cuisine, a monotony breaker, a great refresher and, for many, the ideal morning ‘pressure builder’. It is without doubt the national drink of India.
In my work, which includes road tripping across India, I have found tea to be intricately woven into the colourful fabric that is India.
If there is one certainty on Indian roads, it is a tea shop — no matter where you are or what the hour. The humble chai ki dukaan (tea shop) is a fundamental part of the great Indian road network. From flashy dhabas on major highways and ramshackle shacks on minor roads to local shepherds brewing chai on small wood fires on the summit of the mighty Zoji La in Kashmir, tea is omnipresent. Yes, the aroma, colour and taste may vary a great deal but the comfort remains accessible at all times.
While tea comes from the cured leaves of the Camellia sinensis plant, the actual beverage has many avatars across India. In Kashmir there’s the kahwah which is brewed by gently boiling tea leaves with elaichi, saffron, cinnamon and even petals of Kashmiri roses. In Gujarat, a few more spices are added along with milk, water and tea leaves and the mixture is boiled over a high pressure flame to make that famed Indian masala chai. In fact, even at the most rudimentary tea stalls, the tea maker will grate some ginger and crush a cardamom pod and add it to the pot. In Darjeeling, they might forgive you a dash of lime into the light, golden Darjeeling tea but would scream bloody murder should you contaminate it with milk or sugar.
Rural Rajasthan is where you could stand your spoon in your cup of tea thanks to the generous amount of sugar added. But “beta”, as a wizened old local once told me, “our only sugar intake is through our tea”.
In Bombay, ‘cutting’ reigns supreme. From railway station stalls to under-the-tree-tea-tapris, cutting chai is served in the iconic bejewelled glass — a warm escape from the hustle-bustle of life in a megapolis. Hot on its heels is the Irani, strong, paani-kum tea with milk which goes sublimely with brun bread generously smeared with butter. Purists will tell you that it is downright disrespectful to dunk your brun bread in any other kind of tea.
Walk into a South Bombay Parsi household around 4 pm and you’ll find the family sighing in pleasure over the near-ceremonial afternoon tea. The aromatic choy infused with mint and lemon grass leaves is poured into fine bone china cups from a matching teapot. A dash of milk and sugar from their respective pots completes the ritual.
Even in south India, where filter coffee a revered, tea holds its own and it is often served with fine frothy head — the result of being flamboyantly flung from one glass to another.
When I travel I am always on the lookout for good tea and, while tea is never difficult to find, a few places stand out for their stupendous brew. In Kolkata, my friend Shakir Randerian used to take me to Sharma’s for early morning tea. Crowded even during the wee hours of the day, this joint at the intersection of Harish Mukherjee Road and Shambhunath Pandit Street served delicious chai laced with kesar in kullads of varying sizes.
In old Delhi, near Jama Masjid’s gate number 1 is a narrow lane that goes towards the famous Karim’s. Right opposite this lane is a little restaurant serving breakfast halwa and puri. It also serves intensely flavourful ‘special’ tea for Rs 16 — the speciality is that it is made by boiling tea leaves in full-cream buffalo milk — sounds like a recipe for arterial traffic jams, but tastes divinely delicious.
In Bombay, the best masala tea is brewed by Poornima Popat but I’m not going to tell you where because she wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed if a queue formed outside her door demanding tea.
But the most unlikely place where I’ve had consistently good tea is a little dhaba in Chotta Dara — a one-shop hamlet on the desolate dirt road from Kaza to Manali in Spiti district.
While tea arrived as a sober Englishman’s breakfast beverage, India has tweaked it into multiple forms. While Cathy would have promptly fainted in righteous indignation at our concoctions, tea, in all its forms, continues to bring happiness to millions of Indians everyday.
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