Both my countries have one thing in common- a stereotypical love for tea.
Back in India, especially around New Delhi where I’m from, chai vs. coffee is nothing short of a heated political debate. The general perception is that coffee represents a more globalistic, even “modern” trend, whereas chai is more… old-school. It’s something that our parents and grandparents prefer and some of us quite frankly just don’t have time for. I do get it, to an extent. While the Spiderverse films do claim that “chai” means tea, and while this may be true in a literal sense, the reality is that the delicious brown liquid brewed by the litre in households all over India isn’t the same as the, dare I say rather bland “cup of tea” sipped in Britain. “Chai” in India more often than not means Masala Chai- tea brewed with spices, often also with ginger, and a little more than just a “splash of milk”. Making coffee is simple and no-nonsense, while making chai is a laborious art.
Before starting uni at Warwick, I was a chai aficionado. I knew exactly how I liked my chai and used to absolutely adore drinking it every single day. I used to pride myself on it, too. I was part of that club of young people who had taste, as I liked to claim, and I was rather haughty about the fact that I didn’t find myself swayed by the allure of coffee. Yes, I drank it at times, especially during exams, but that was for purely functional reasons. Black coffee, no sugar. Just get the caffeine in so that I don’t fall asleep over my NCERT textbooks. The only other time I’d drink coffee was strictly when having the occasional sugar-and-chocolate-syrup-loaded “cold coffee” that you find in Indian cafĂ©s, but that was essentially dessert. Even there, I generally preferred the sugar bombs delivered through syrupy “iced tea”, thank you very much. Chai was my everyday drink, though; my life partner. She loved me and I loved her.
But Britain made me unfaithful to my lover. After “moving to” England for uni (and I use the term sparingly, for I end up returning home every term break!), I was initially quite determined to bring India with me. I was in a cold new country, things were changing rapidly and the two-and-a-half months of term 1 seemed like eternity. As such, like many Indian international students, I was afflicted by a terrible case what I like to call MDKD (Meri Desh Ki Dharti) Syndrome. The popular phrase, having originated from a song in the 1967 Bollywood Movie Upkar, literally means “The Soil of my Country”, and is as you would have guessed, generally associated with fervent patriotism. The Soil of my Country was muddy with puddles of chai, and I started making masala chai every morning. Finding myself disgusted by the English excuse for “Indian” food, I also made elaborate Indian dishes like shorshe maacchh (mustard fish curry), butter chicken (the authentic kind), bhindi ki sabji and God knows what else. I was less of a student and more of a 50s Indian housewife-in-training!
Eventually, as you would assume, practicality kicked in. As a student who had to balance her assignments with cooking her own food, doing her own dishes and laundry, and also maintaining some semblance of a social life, I had neither the time nor the patience to make a proper adrak waali chai every single day. Nor did I always have time to cook. So, my lover and I grew distant. The “karak chai” at Curiositea (a brilliantly named cafĂ© at Warwick) was decent, but it wasn’t chai. At some point I brought instant chai premixes from India, and they were quite decent as well, but all these were simply imitations of my lover. So, I dropped the act. I discovered cold brews at some point and became a filthy “coffee person” for a while, before switching to “whatever I’m in the mood for”. As I’m writing this, I’m actually in Delhi for the summer, nearing the end of an Earl Grey phase, interestingly enough! I also crave a full English sometimes, and my roommate jokes that I’m colonising myself.
Do I still drink chai? Of course I do, especially when I’m in India. Am I still that kurti-and-jhumka-clad, kajal wearing Delhi girl sipping a steamy cup of cardamom chai? Hell yeah. But Britain is no longer the stranger it once was, and the insecurity-riddled MDKD Syndrome has reduced in intensity. Maybe I drink chai less frequently than I used to, but when I do drink it, I always give my lover the time and appreciation she deserves. In return, she gives me the warmth and comfort she always has. Uni may not be everyone’s cup of chai, but maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe uni can be a cold brew, or an Earl Grey, or a bland British cuppa, or all those things at once, mixed with a bit of chai and a hint of cheap vodka. Or maybe uni can be “whatever I’m in the mood for”, just as long as I survive after drinking it :)