A Cup of Life: Reflections from a Local Tea Shop

As a kid, tea shops were my window to the world. Small world. A raw and beautiful world filled with life.

Growing up, I always accompanied my dad to the tea shops. Growing up in poverty, my dad lived on tea, cigarettes, and bonda. He stuck to the habit (even though it’s not very healthy) even after he moved up the career ladder. Wherever he went, a new city or town, the first thing he would do is find a tea shop nearby and go have tea there the next morning.

And since I was a morning person, he would take me along. His regular was a glass of tea and a cigarette, with an occasional medhu vadai, and mine was a glass of tea and three butter biscuits.

Going to tea shops was special for me because it meant spending time with my dad and taking walks in the morning.

I loved being around tea shops.

At five AM, the place would be bustling with people. The air will be filled with the aroma of the tea leaves and the smell of burning cigarettes. The locally assembled audio amplifier in the shop will be filling the air with devotional songs like “Azhagendra solluku muruga” or “Vinayagane vinai theerpavane”. The well-decorated, shiny copper boiler will be letting out hot steam signaling the passersby that the tea is ready; The vadai master will be frying batches of medhu vadais on a hot frying pan; Customers will walk and in and out of the shop carrying medhu vadais in sheets from old newspapers to squeeze out the excess oil; A bunch of uncles will be sitting on the steps of the closed shop shutters nearby, reading the day’s newspaper and discussing politics; Tea shops are a total vibe by itself.

Being around tea shops taught me a lot about people in general. It showed me a glimpse into the life of a wide range of people — sanitary workers, vegetable vendors, sales representatives, job seeking graduates, retired men, etc. It was like being part of a local social network.

People who visited tea shops talked about the upcoming events in the area, discussed local crime, made friends, and found handymen for housework, and got change for five hundred and thousand rupee bills anytime of the day. They got into arguments with one another occasionally. They also laughed together over a joke they overheard from a random stranger. They fed the poor and needy with tea and biscuits, and someone always bought half a dozen Parle-G packets to feed the dogs. In every tea shop I’ve visited until now, I’ve only experienced good vibes, warmth, and kindness.

I still go to the tea shop every day. It is the place I go to, to escape my routine. It is the place where everybody’s life takes a break — a pit stop for the soul that is always chasing something imaginary and unattainable. Whenever I’m tired, a glass of hot tea and the company of warm people around me make me feel better and help me get back on track.