Holi is the Indian festival of colors celebrating the return of spring with boisterous behavior, bright colors, music and joyful dance. It is a time when the established segregation between caste and gender, and the strictly modest Indian social norms, are temporarily put on hold, and everyone can cut loose, release their pent up winter frustrations and have fun.

The tradition is attributed to several different legends, one of which is associated with the young prankster Krishna and his sweet love, Radha.  Krishna, who was upset that he had very dark skin compared to Radha’s fair complexion, put colors on her face to make her any color he desired.  This act was immortalized into a tradition commemorated across India, Nepal and anywhere in the world with a Hindu population.

At the time of our chai pilgrimage, we were staying at the Neem Karoli Baba Ashram in Vrindavan.  In the ashram, devotees celebrated Holi, by lovingly smearing colored powders of red, pink, yellow and green across each other’s cheeks and singing traditional Holi songs about the enduring love of Krishna and Radha.  On the streets outside the ashram gates, Holi was a pigment pandemonium, with mobs of hoodlums from outlying villages dumping buckets of dyed water and throwing handfuls of colored powder into the faces of barefoot pilgrims circumambulating the holy city.

We were able to avoid some potentially soggy situations when confronted by gangs of mischievous children set on dousing us with colored water.  We would say, “Wait! One photo, please!” and the kids would lower their water cannons and pose for us.  While they were temporarily frozen, we would snap a picture and run.

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)

Chai wallahs take pride in their chai. After all, each and every day, it is their responsibility to sustain and nurture the masses by providing the beverage that keeps India running.

To stand out from the rest, many chai wallahs develop a stylized preparation and presentation for their chai.

Some chai wallahs put a little something special in their chai, a smashed up nub of ginger, a pinch of garam masala powder, or a strand of saffron on top, to make it unique and keep their customers coming back. Often it is the performance that sells the chai. Many chai wallahs let the chai boil up until an instant before it is going to spill over the side, then with great agility, swirl the pot an inch over the flame, suspending it in an almost-boiling-over state before removing it from the heat, then doing the trick again. In Kolkatta we witnessed the “metre-pour”, where the chai wallah blends the chai by pouring it back and forth between the pots at two arm-lengths apart.  Frothy chai latte to go?

Most chai wallahs prepare their chai in small batches on a per order basis. In large cities, however, the chai business is often divided into one central chai wallah who makes enormous batches of chai, and the sellers who fill orders and deliver to local shops. For the chai courier, the faster you can run through the congested city, the more chai you can sell.

It is often the same at train stations, where many chai wallahs are selling from the same huge vat. When pulling into a train station in India, the first sound you hear is the chorus of chai wallahs singing their sales pitch. Breaking chai into two syllables and accentuating the second, ‘chai-eeeeeee, chai-eeeeeee’, the chai vendors signal their location to the passengers. You can just hang out the window and get a chai to go. If a loud voice doesn’t draw attention, a creative performance on the train can make a sale. Walking down the aisles, some wallahs display their skills by pouring the chai in a long thin stream, as far from the cup as possible, without spilling a drop.

I generally like to purchase my chai from the wallah with the best vibes — one who is wearing a smile and keeps a clean chai stall. In Benares, at Raju chai stand, under a tree on the orange and white steps of Assi Ghat, I watched a young chai wallah as he made his first pot of chai of the day. I was surprised to see several people waiting on the steps for their morning chai when there were several other chai wallahs in view already serving. I sat down to wait with them. After brewing his chai, the young man strained the boiled pot into a stainless steel teakettle. He then closed his eyes and appeared to make a silent invocation as he poured a small offering of chai next to the orange cooking burner flame. (In India, fire is revered as the ancient Vedic God, Agni, and it is auspicious to first offer the fruits of your labor to the Divine.)  He then poured the first chai into a clay cup and handed it to me. I felt honored. Even though I prefer a little ginger and cardamom in my chai, instead of the Nescafe instant coffee he sprinkled on top, he became my new favorite chai wallah.

With the success of the movie Slumdog Millionaire, we have received many visitors to our what is a chai wallah? post, from those unfamiliar with the term.  To clarify the term chai wallah as it is used in the movie, and to offer a poignant example of this site’s intent, we thought it appropriate to offer an addendum to this post.  So, after reading this, please check out what is a slumdog chai wallah?

Ganesh is the inspiration for probably millions of artists. Everywhere we turned, we saw his image. We sighted this Ganesh-in-motion on the back of a rickshaw in Kathmandu.

We passed this Ganesh on a narrow alley in old Kathmandu. He seemed to be glowing.

I colored this ‘chai wallah’ version of Ganesh in my sketchbook.

Our friend Veejay is an artist living in Varanasi. He’s made (literally) thousands and thousands of Ganeshes.

Veejay’s brother, Deepu, carved this Ganesh for us.

And this special “lucky Ganesh penny” sits on my desk — my friend Amanda sent it to me from India.

I love to surround myself with reminders of the Divine, because it does just that — reminds me to REMEMBER. This is something I definitely ‘took’ from my visits to Nepal and India. Here, my days are filled with so much activity–work deadlines, cooking, cleaning, errands, and exercise — that I appreciate the reminder to pause for a moment, breathe, and give thanks. Whether the reminder is an image of Ganesh or Buddha, or even a vase of flowers or a walk in nature, it takes me to the same place within. Peace.

Namasté is the essential phrase and gesture one must learn when traveling in Nepal and India. It is used as both a greeting and a farewell, but its meaning is much deeper than a simple “hello” or “goodbye.” Namasté is a Hindi word derived from Sanskrit, the sacred language of ancient India. Sanskrit was used to write the Hindu scriptures, medical texts and classical poetry and is still used today to recite prayers and sing devotional hymns.

Namas means, “to bow, obeisance, reverent salutation or adoration.” While Té , from the root tvam, means “your or to you.” Namasté then simply means, “I bow to you.”

If you break the Sanskrit down to the root syllables, another level of meaning appears. Na means, “no, not, to negate,” while ma has many meanings including “measure, binding, time or death.” Put these together and the hidden meaning becomes that with no measure, no binding, no time and no death — or the boundless, free, eternal and immortal – Divine Consciousness. Our bow is coming from, and being offered to, that pure place of perfection that is within us all. It is the acknowledgement of our higher self – beyond the personality.

Namasté can be translated as, “The pure goodness within me honors the pure goodness within you” or “The God in me sees the God you.” This recognition of our self as not separate from the Supreme Self is a central tenant of Hinduism. The Namasté greeting, however, is nondenominational and universal. It is a greeting of souls.

Namasté is a mantra, or sacred phrase with a subtly powerful energetic effect. The energy of its meaning is created by the sound vibration of the word. It is spoken with the accompanying gesture of hands together in prayer position in front of the chest and the head slightly bowed. This hand position, called anjali mudra, signifies not only the gesture but also an attitude. The attitude is one of humility, love and compassion as well as transparent awareness. Mudra internalizes the mind unlike a handshake, which focuses energy outward. Anjali mudra balances the left and right hemispheres of the brain and our masculine and feminine aspects. It reminds us that we are not separate from one another or from the Divine Source, just as the two separate hands come together as one in front of the heart center.

Namasté is a practice of yoga, or union, of the body, mind and soul. The body performs the mudra and speaks the sacred word. The mind reflects on its meaning. The soul unites with the infinite soul of the other person and with universal awareness. When sincerely performed, there is a realization, if only for a moment, that we are surrounded by the divine presence.

Sometimes the Namasté mantra is not spoken out loud, but internally. In India, the gesture itself is understood as Namasté. It is customary for a younger person to perform Namasté to an elder first. Namaskar means “the act of performing Namasté,” but “Namaskar” is also said when addressing an elder or highly respected person, with the hands together in front of the forehead. The hands may be taken over the head when in the presence of a saint or an image of God, sometimes while falling into a full prostration.

In yogic esoteric anatomy, a chakra is an energy center where consciousness resides within the subtle body. When we Namasté with the hands over the anahata or heart chakra, in the center of the chest, we connect with the seat of divine love. With folded hands touching the forehead or third eye, the ajna chakra, we bring our vision to that which is beyond the physical form, the higher self. When placing our hands over our head on the crown or sahasrara chakra called the thousand petal lotus, we are merging our soul with the primordial vibration of OM, the awareness that created the universe.

When greeting a Muslim, the appropriate salutation is the Arabic, As-salam Alaykum, ”may the peace and blessings of God be with you,” and the response, Alaykum As-salam. Sometimes, by mistake, we offered Namasté to Muslims. While this is traditionally a Hindu greeting, it was still taken with respect. When greeting Buddhists in South Asia, one also uses the Namasté greeting.

Performing Namasté is a blissful opportunity to see the Divine in all beings. It is one of the ways that being in India almost forces you to perceive God. Namasté acts as a good starting point when meeting someone and the perfect final word. It is my favorite Indian custom and one that I try to preserve back home.

Chai from a clay cup – that raw, slightly bitter, textured taste of earth, mixed with gingery-sweet milk tea – is the taste of India. An Indian adventure would be incomplete without the experience of sipping chai at an open-air chai stall, and the gratifying, childlike pleasure that comes with tossing your cup and hearing the “pop!” as you watch it hit the ground and break into bits.

All over India, potters spin these small cups out of river clay, which are then sun-dried, half-baked in an open fire and delivered to local chai stalls. Before pouring your chai, chai wallahs customarily tap the unglazed cup to dislodge any loose dirt particles. Even so, you inevitably ingest a small bit of melted clay. We find the gritty taste enhances the character of the chai. One could even argue that the minerals in the dirt provide the added benefit of a daily multi-mineral supplement. (I have been tempted to add a little dirt to my chai at home.)

After use, your chai cup dissolves back into the earth.

In addition to being environmentally sustainable, the clay cup is a sanitary alternative to drinking chai from a glass. Generally, chai glasses in India get only a hand rinsing in a bucket of cold water instead of being sterilized with soap and hot water. When drinking a glass of chai, you are touching lips with the many chai lovers who have sipped chai before you. This, of course, presents the risk of being exposed to a myriad of communicable diseases. The water itself is also cause for concern. Unlike the chlorinated water in American cities, the water here is alive, and may be host to an array of bacteria, viruses, amoebas and parasites. Although chai is boiled thoroughly and poses no threat, the glasses are often reused while still dripping wet. Even a few drops of this water in your chai can cause upset stomach, diarrhea or worse. It is best to avoid this unpleasant experience by patronizing chai stalls that use the one-use clay cups.

The size and shape of the cups vary throughout different regions of India. The average clay cup holds about three or four ounces, but can vary from the size of a shot glass in Gujarat to the uncommon, American-sized, 10-ounce chai we found across from the Hare Krishna temple in Vrindavan. On several occasions we enjoyed a small, 2-ounce cup of chai for only 1 rupee (about 2 1/2 cents). The meager portion conditioned us to sip slowly and savor our chai, as well as giving us the opportunity to socialize at more chai shops throughout the day.

In Benares clay cups are called puruas, in West Bengal, bhaar, and across much of India they are referred to as kullarhs. At train stations, the cups are jokingly nicknamed pi ke put, pi ke meaning “to drink” and put referring to the sound it makes when it hits the tracks: “drink and chuck.”

With the introduction of plastic cups came the plastic pile-up from patrons accustomed to tossing their cups out the window. The Minister of the Indian Railway System has banned train chai wallahs from using plastic, but unfortunately this new rule is not always enforced.

Although technology in India has advanced at a rapid pace, ancient, yet timeless, traditions like the clay cup are preserved because of their modern applications. Considering the resources saved and the potential litter that would otherwise be created by millions upon millions of chai drinkers, biodegradable clay cups are a sustainable solutuion to our diposable dilema.