Chai Pilgrimage

Pahupatinath is an ancient Hindu temple on the banks of the Bagmati River in Kathmandu, Nepal.  Dating back to the 5^th century, it is considered one the oldest and most important Shiva temples in all of Nepal.  One early myth tells the story of Lord Shiva taking refuge in the woodland valley to evade his Godly duties.  Residing in the forest, he became renown as Pashupati, the Lord of the animals.  When the other Gods finally found him, they were quite angry, and insisted that he return to his residence on Mount Kailash.  To escape, he disguised himself as a deer and ran off to hide in the forest.  In the ensuing chase, a piece of his antler was broken off and fell to the ground.

Many years went by, and the antler lingam, or empowered phallic symbol, was covered over by vegetation and the passing of time.  Finally, a cow herder noticed one of his cows going to the same place each day to offer up her milk onto the earth.  When he examined that spot, he found the horn and recognized it as a Shiva Lingam.  Soon, it began to be worshipped by a growing number of people and eventually became the site of a temple.  Now Pashupatinath is an elaborate temple complex with extensive grounds comprised of the main pagoda-style temple, numerous smaller Shiva lingam shrines and burning ghats along the river, where Hindu devotees are cremated.

It was here, where a cow made her milk oblations to the lingam of Pashupati, that the renowned holy man known as “Dudhadhari Baba” or “Milk Baba” welcomed us.   Ram Krishna Das earned his Milk Baba title because of his austerity of receiving his nourishment exclusively from milk for over 25 years.  According to Ayurveda, milk is considered a Sattvic, or spiritually pure, food.  It is peacefully obtained from a cow, considered the holiest of animals, without the loss of life, and is complete to sustain human life.

The saddhu, now around 80 years old, has also committed to wearing his hair in jatta, or dreadlocks, since he took his initiation at 18.  If not wrapped up on top of his head, they would drag on the ground behind him.  He has practiced many austerities including years of meditation in isolation, barefoot pilgrimages through the Himalayas and a lifetime of celibacy.  He is a great scholar and master of the Hindu epic, the Ramayana, whose teachings he fully embodies.

Milk Baba invited us into his small kutir, or ascetic’s hut, where a circle of temple musicians sat by candlelight singing verses of the Ramayana.  Between verses, Baba would discourse on their meaning.  Not being fluent in the dialect, we sat quietly sipping the chai he offered us and enjoying the darshan, or vision, of this gentle living saint.

As we traveled throughout India researching chai, one question we asked people as we sat around the chai stalls was, “What is the origin of masala chai?” The response we heard, more than any other, was that it is “grandmothers’ tea.”  Grandmother, the traditional caretaker of the household, would brew a blend of plant roots, bark and seeds if a family member became ill, or as a tonic to keep them healthy through the changing seasons. Some of the ingredients now found in a classic cup of masala chai are useful for cold, flu, stomach ailments, digestion, lungs and other common maladies.  These family recipes were handed down from mother to daughter to granddaughters over generations spanning hundreds or even thousands of years.

Then came the Brits. Back in Britain, folks had developed quite an expensive habit for Chinese tea, their most popular beverage.  To make a long story of greed, slavery, drug smuggling, war, deforestation and imperialism short, Britain’s East Indian Company, who wanted independence from the high cost of China tea, took over areas in northeast India to establish their own tea plantations.  This turned India into a big, profitable tea party and opened the floodgates, unleashing an ocean of tea on the subcontinent.

One popular belief, or chai conspiracy story, we heard many times during our travels, is that the British first dispensed tea at no cost to the Indian population, knowing its addictive nature and seeing an enormous new local market.  The marketing plan worked, as even now, India is the world’s largest producer and consumer of tea.  Eventually tea, with its energy giving medicine, made its way into grandma’s spice decoctions.  Add some milk and sugar, coming from both traditional Indian Ayurvedic and British tea-time traditions, and masala chai was born.  There is, of course, no way to verify this chai creation theory, but it seems plausible.

Later, the British tradition of tea sipping seeped into Indian culture.  People (generally men) would gather outside there home on the streets to drink chai and socialize.  Chai stalls became the new meeting place.  At the dhabas, or Indian 24 hour truckstops, Punjabi truck drivers demanded a strong cup of masala chai as a restorative drink to get them through the long hours of driving.  And in homes, chai became the symbol of hospitality.

The inception of masala chai seems to have its roots in a crossroads of cultures, beginning with the Indian grandmothers, coming together in the subcontinent.  It has only recently become hugely popular in the West, particularly in the U.S.  This is an historic ironical twist, considering America was founded on dumping tea into the ocean as an act of civil disobedience, with the Boston Tea Party becoming a symbol of tax resistance and revolution.

Chai is such an integral part of Indian culture, I think they must look at us and wonder “What is such the big deal with chai?”  As a foolish American chai lover, I offer my humble thank you to the long line of grandmothers on the other side of the world, who gave us the gift of masala chai.

Hamro Nepali hajuramma (our Nepali grandmother in Darjeeling, India)