So I couldn't stop thinking about India today....

I made myself a cup of desi-chai today, the way they make it India. I was trying to study for my stats test tomorrow, and all I could think about was India. So I did something about it. And here is the result:

Journey by Chai

Ek chummudge chai,
ek chummudge shakre,
thora adruk.
Thora sa paani, thora sa dhood.
Sab obolti-he.

Something so simple -
a single cup of tea.
So ordinary, so universal.

But this one,
this one,
this one pulls moments out of time.

Ek chummudge chai.
A street stall in Delhi -
exhausted limbs,
a long day of walking.
"Chaar rupiya."
Four rupees and the chai rolls to a boil.
Slightly bitter, slightly sweet,
an echo of how I feel on this, my last day in India.
My worn out body feels better.

Ek chummudge shakre.
In Indore, the chai is cheaper.
The Chai-Walla boasts to his friends -
Angrezi ordering chai from his stall.
"To kya hoa?"
My friend asks, "So what?"
"Kuch bi nahi," he replies,
"There's nothing wrong with that."

Thora adruk.
I make the chai today,
to have with our poha for breakfast.
I like mine with ginger -
there's no such thing
as too much spice, in India.

Thora sa paani, thora sa dhood.
Lata teaches me how to make desi-chai.
I take the milk from the pot on the stove,
the germs have already been boiled away.
We buy our milk in bags here -
the Dhood-Walla is impressed with my hindi.

Sab obolti-he.
A giant pot of chai boils every morning,
flavored with long strands of lemon grass from the garden.
At nine o'clock, girls with long black braids
ladle it into a battered tin teapot,
large enough to serve 30 of their peers.

Something so complex -
that mix of flavors;
strong tea, sweet sugar, boiled milk,
and don't forget the spice.
That's what keeps time
ticking backward in my head.

I remember India:
my journey by chai.