Chai & Culture

A flick of the striker, a little unsolicited advice, and chai between turns. On the social life that gathers around a carrom board.

As Mumbai’s day softens beside the Arabian Sea, Marine Drive becomes a place for sitting, talking and watching. A small glass of cutting chai fits the hour perfec...

In many Indian homes, hospitality begins before the guest has properly sat down. A simple offer of chai or water carries an entire language of welcome with it.

A round steel spice box can hold far more than cumin, turmeric and chilli. For families living between places, it can become a small map of home.

Every morning, steel dabbas leave kitchens across Mumbai and cross the city by bicycle, foot and local train. Inside each one is something logistics alone cannot ...

Before playlists and podcasts, a small radio often filled Indian kitchens with film songs, voices and familiar programmes while the day carried on around it.

Before coffee shops became places to work, Bombay had Irani cafés: democratic rooms of chai, bun maska, bentwood chairs and unhurried conversation.

In many South Asian homes, chai is not the accompaniment to hospitality. It is how hospitality begins.

A short story about motorway miles, a shared thermos and the strange comfort of chai between two homes.

A short chai story about missed trains, paper cups and the unexpected comfort of being made to slow down.

There may be a thousand ways to make chai, but the best cup is usually the one that tastes like home.

A cup of chai, a packet of biscuits and the irresistible question: to dip or not to dip?