The creamy, spicy tea of Desi culture represents so much more than a drink.
By Sherrene DeLong
This reflection on chai inspired a ceramics artist to create a set of chai cups. Learn about the artist’s process and see what she produced.
"C
an I get a grande chai tea with soy, no whip?"
I bit my tongue as the woman in front of me ordered her beverage.
“I just love chai tea!” she gushed to her friend.
Everything Indian in me cringed. Chai literally means tea, and the redundancy reeked of ignorance. I approached the barista and ordered my passionfruit iced tea unsweetened, and shamefully changed my name to accommodate a more Western ear.
“Order for Sherry?”
I guess that was me. I took my drink and went on my way.
As I left the coffee shop that day, I felt a heavy dissonance from the experience. Chai is the drink of hospitality in many Indian families, and my coffee shop experience was anything but hospitable. A cup of chai is not a commercialized sugary caffeine bomb topped with whipped cream and wrapped in trendy exoticism. And a space that offers a cup of chai should not make you feel like you need to change who you are to be in that environment.
Growing up, a cup of tea or coffee was the first thing offered to guests. Even if they offered a polite “no, thank you,” a cup or two was always made, offered, and eventually enjoyed. After leaving my parents’ home, I realized how much I craved that cup of tea and how it reminded me of home, a place of welcome and rest. As I navigated my predominantly White spaces, that small cup of tea became a cup of courage. It warmed me from the inside out and empowered me to keep going.
Over time, my small cup of tea enjoyed a few times throughout the day morphed into an all-American-sized morning mug. When I visited India, I was shocked by the plastic shot glass-sized cups of chai served on the side of the road. Could I bring my own mug and have them fill it up?
But as I observed the people moving throughout their day, I noticed something different. Instead of starting the day with huge gulps of tea, the chai was enjoyed in small sips throughout the day. Frequent pauses marked by visits from the chai wallah in the workplace served as the metronome for the day. Perhaps there’s something to it. Pause your work. Inhale the relaxing scent of cardamom. Sip your cup of courage. Continue your work with renewed energy. Repeat throughout the day.
An auntie in India pours chai for the author. Photo courtesy of Sherrene DeLong.
When I visited a small village in rural India, the matriarch of the village welcomed me with open arms and of course, a cup of chai. Made with buffalo milk, the chai was steaming hot when served. Knowing I could not manage such a hot cup, auntie poured the stainless steel cup of chai into another cup and then back again, cooling the hot liquid for me. She lifted her arms higher and higher, beaming with pride at how quickly she could cool the chai for me. Although she felt embarrassed to welcome me into her small concrete home, she showed tremendous hospitality by bringing me a cup of chai to enjoy outside.
Drinking chai seemed like such an ordinary act in my family, but as I think about it more, that cup of chai symbolizes important cultural values. Hospitality, respect, strength, courage, and so much more are encapsulated in that creamy spicy sweet beverage.
Perhaps that’s why seeing the commercialized “chai tea” at the coffee shop felt uncomfortable. That woman was purchasing a similar creamy spicy sweet beverage without the hospitality. A cup without the courage. Because chai tastes different when someone takes the time to make it for you, with you in mind, serve it in a small cup, offer it to you as a warm gesture of hospitality in their home, and then spend the time with you as a friend or family member. The experience is nearly sacred, and almost always healing.
I’m tempted to share a chai recipe for readers to make at home. But every family’s chai recipe is a little bit different: the tea steeped for different times, the spice blend adjusted for different palates and circumstances (add ginger if you’re not feeling well!), and the sweetness is to taste. So instead of trying to make it at home, I want to encourage you to get to know Desi families around you and experience that cup of hospitality for yourself. Enjoy the communal practice of sipping together, and feel the difference Desi hospitality makes.
Photo by Aditya Chinchure on Unsplash
Sherrene DeLong (MATS, Westminster Seminary California) is working on a PhD in higher education at Azusa Pacific University. She is a contributor to All Are Welcome: Toward a Multi-Everything Church and Hear Us Emmanuel: Another Call for Racial Reconciliation, Representation, and Unity in the Church. She lives in Virginia with her husband and son, and they attend Christ Church PCA in Arlington.