I am fond of
travelling, especially off-the-beaten path. On these trips, although I cherish
many moments of solitude, I also enjoy meeting all kinds of people and it would
not be wrong to say that without this interaction with the locals and other
visitors, my trip would be incomplete.
Whether I am in solitude or being social,
sipping a cup of hot chai is a must for me. I’ve had tea in some of the
remotest parts of Pakistan with different versions of chai, such as chai made
with goat milk in the desert of Tharparkar, chai with salt in the mountains of
Himalayas and Karakoram, chai with too much sugar in the northwest of Sindh and
chai without milk (black tea) in the Deosai Plains.
My connection with chai started with a family
tradition back in my childhood. It was a daily ritual to have tea every
evening. That was the time when everyone would gather together for chitchat,
and the family would interact. As I grew up, the tradition of chai sittings
extended to meeting friends over chai, though later, as I began travelling, it
got limited to either having tea on my own or with the people that I met there.
The one thing connecting the Himalayas with the Arabian Sea is a cup of
steaming tea
Tea is not an integral part of our culture —
from north to south and east to west. Most of the time, I mostly did not have
to buy the cup of tea on my travels but it was offered by the locals as part of
their hospitality. Most of my encounters with people were very raw. In the
middle of nowhere, I come across people who don’t have a clue who I am or where
I belonged to, yet they opened their arms for me. Since most of my travels are
solo, in order to socialise a bit, I have tea at various places, sit, relax, think
and reflect. Sip after sip.
Each experience has a different story. One
winter I spent a night at the shrine of Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai in Bhitshah.
The fakirs were singing Bhitai’s poetry. In order to stay awake, they have chai
every hour as they play. One of the fakirs saw me sitting in the front
listening to them, and offered me a cup of tea. For them, it was a small
gesture to say thank you for listening to them. I felt connected.
But it was not until the early 20th century that the British started
marketing campaigns and tea stalls were set up in different work places
controlled by the company, including railways stations, factories, mines, etc.
where workers were allowed tea breaks. On main railway stations and junctions,
vendors were assigned to offer free hot chai to passengers and workers
commuting from one point to another. That is how tea became popular with the
masses in parts of the world where the British ruled.
It was much later in life that I discovered
that the British introduced tea in the subcontinent in the early 19th century
when tea cultivation began in Assam. Initially, tea produced by the British
East India Company in the subcontinent was only for the market in the West, and
later the company saw a good opportunity to expand its market within the
region. In 1881, the Tea Association of India was formed by the East India
Company to expand tea business in British-ruled India (present-day India,
Pakistan and Bangladesh). But it was not until the early 20th century that the
British started marketing campaigns and tea stalls were set up in different
work places controlled by the company, including railways stations, factories,
mines, etc. where workers were allowed tea breaks. On main railway stations and
junctions, vendors were assigned to offer free hot chai to passengers and
workers commuting from one point to another. That is how tea became popular
with the masses in parts of the world where the British ruled. Prior to that
only herbal tea was consumed in India. Ironic then how often we refer to tea as
‘our culture.’
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