Chai & Me: A Curious Case of Crumbs, Chaos, and Comfort

Tea—or chai—is my quiet little indulgence. Not an everyday essential, not even a favorite on most days. But when it rains, or when I am tired, or when I am craving coffee but the milk is either too cold or weirdly warm, the kyutuuu ^chai^ becomes my comfort choice. I am not sure if that makes me quirky or just indecisive, but I have always had this casual, slightly strange relationship with tea.

You would think I was a die-hard tea lover if you watched me eat it. Yes, eat it. While most people dip a biscuit delicately into their tea, I used to go full throttle—breaking eight to ten Marie biscuits straight into the cup until the tea turned into a thick, spoonable mush. And I would proudly scoop it up like dessert. I have done this everywhere—from my childhood home to my office desk, completely unbothered. Honestly, it felt more like a treat than a beverage. The kind of strange comfort only a few of us know how to enjoy.

Growing up, I was surrounded by tea lovers. My pednanna, (my dad's elder brother), drank it day in and out. My atta (dad's elder sister) and babai (dad's younger brother) too—they were all part of this quiet ritual of tea-making and tea-drinking. My dad was the odd one out, firmly rooted in his love for filter coffee. But me? I was somewhere in between. Living next door to my pednanna meant I often got pulled into this world of tea, one cup at a time.

Chai reminds me of him the most. He was my favorite—one of those rare people who just get you without needing explanations. He had a quiet warmth, and a presence that felt like home. I miss him every single day. He passed away last year in September, and even now, every time I make tea or sip on a cup someone else made, I imagine him smiling somewhere, probably shaking his head at my biscuit mush but still loving me for it.

I have never really been great at making chai. In fact, I might hold some kind of record for ruining tea in new and creative ways each time. Sometimes I would add too much tea powder, sometimes too little. Sometimes it would be overly rich with milk, and other times it looked like water blushing in embarrassment. My best disasters came with all the ingredients in at once—milk, sugar, tea powder—staring at the pan waiting for the magic to happen, not realizing that chai, like all good things, needs patience.

There is one memory that still makes me smile. I must have been in 5th or 6th grade. One of my uncles came home, and I was determined to make chai for him. It was my first attempt. I threw everything in—tea powder, milk, sugar—and waited for the color to change. It didn’t. So I added more tea powder. Still nothing. A little more. At some point, I must have created the densest, most confused cup of tea ever brewed. But my uncle, bless him, drank it all without a word. He even said it was nice. Of course, my parents gave me an earful later, but I still count that as a win.

Over the years, my friends—my best girlies—took it upon themselves to make chai whenever I visited. It became our little tradition. Not just because they loved chai, but because they knew I probably couldn’t make it without turning it into a science experiment gone wrong.

Fast forward to now, married life. My husband makes good chai—slightly strong, very little sugar (too little, if you ask me). I have learned from him. I have watched him stir gently, patiently wait for that rich brown to rise. And slowly, with lots of trial and error, I have come to a place where I can say I make good chai too. Not perfect, not poetic. But good. Good enough to hold in both hands on a rainy evening. Good enough to sip quietly and feel the warmth go deeper than just the throat.

Chai, for me, is not about the brew. It is about moments. About memories of my pednanna smiling with his steel tumbler, about my friends laughing in the kitchen, about my husband handing me a warm cup after a long day. It is about biscuit mush and love served by the spoonful. That was in the past though, I now just drink tea or have it like a respected adult with 2 biscuits. But!! the mush is my all time favorite.

And sometimes, that is all you need.

Ingredients:

• 1 cup water

• 1 cup milk (adjust according to preference)

• 1–2 tsp tea powder (strong or mild, based on your taste)

• 1–2 tsp sugar (or to taste, though I recommend starting light!)

• 2–3 crushed cardamom pods (optional, but highly recommended for that magical aroma)

• A small piece of fresh ginger (optional, but it adds warmth and a lovely zing)

• 1-2 Marie biscuits (because let us face it, you are gonna need them)

Instructions:

1. Boil Water & Milk: In a small saucepan, add the water and bring it to a boil. Once it starts bubbling, add the milk and let it simmer gently. This step is crucial for that perfect balance of richness without being too heavy.

2. Add Spices and Tea Powder: Add the crushed cardamom and fresh ginger (if using). Stir in the tea powder. Let the mixture come to a gentle boil. You’ll see the color change to that lovely amber-brown as the tea brews.

3. Let It Steep: Allow it to simmer for 3-4 minutes, depending on how strong you like your chai. If you want a richer flavor, let it steep a bit longer.

4. Sweeten It: Add sugar to taste, adjusting the sweetness to your preference. Stir it well until the sugar dissolves.

5. Strain & Serve: Strain the tea into your favorite mug. Pour it slowly, letting the warmth fill the room with that comforting chai aroma.

6. Chai Crumbs (Optional): Break your Marie biscuits into the tea and let them soak in—trust me, it’s worth it. If you're feeling particularly nostalgic, use a spoon to scoop it up with a smile!

Srishti’s Secret Tip for the Perfect Cup:

To elevate your chai, don’t rush the brewing process. Patience is key. Let the tea steep long enough to reach that perfect, rich color, and don’t hesitate to adjust the water-to-milk ratio depending on how creamy you want it. You will know it is ready when it smells like home and feels like a warm hug in a cup. And for the ultimate comfort, make sure you have got the biscuits ready!

Srishti’s Healing Tip for the Perfect Cup:

Chai, to me, has always been more than just a drink. It is a moment of stillness, a chance to pause in the chaos of life. Whenever you brew your cup, take a moment to breathe deeply, letting the steam rise and settle your mind. The warmth of the tea isn’t just in the cup—it spreads through your body, calming and soothing. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or disconnected, let this simple ritual of chai bring you back to center, reminding you that peace doesn’t have to be complicated.

Why You’ll Love This:

This chai isn’t just about the taste—though, trust me, it’s delicious. It is about the memories it stirs, the comfort it brings, and the little rituals that transform an ordinary moment into something special. Whether you are sipping it on a rainy day, making it for someone you love, or enjoying it in solitude, this cup of chai will always feel like a warm embrace. Plus, there is the bonus of having an excuse to indulge in a biscuit-dunking session without judgment. It is a cup of home, memories, and healing—all in one sip.