🍵Everything Happens Over Chai - Confessions of a Non-Chai Human in a Chai-Obsessed World

Chai, The Liquid Therapist: Ah, chai—the beverage that thinks it’s a lifestyle coach.

Bad day? Chai.

Good day? Chai.

Confused life crisis at 2 PM? Obviously, chai.

Running late? “Had chai.”

Existential crisis? “Need chai.”

Unexpected guest at 10 p.m.? “Chai toh banta hai.”

There is no situation so complicated that it can’t be made worse by overthinking and better by chai. My Amma always said, “If you need clarity? First, get kadak chai.” Chai always makes a grand entrance, It simmers, It hisses, It perfumes the entire kitchen with a dramatic blend of spices that screams, “We are not here for subtlety.” It demands attention: cardamom that flirts, ginger that slaps, and clove that says, “You’re mine now.” And once you sip it—bam! It’s not a drink, it’s an experience. It's less a beverage and more a cultural non-negotiable.

A Brewtiful truth of my life.

Let me begin with a scandalous truth. Let me say this loud and clear before you disown me: I don’t drink chai. Never have. Probably never will . At every gathering, while trays of steaming cups do rounds like royal emissaries, I do the awkward “just water please” shuffle. One time someone handed me a cup of chai before I could protest, and I panicked and used it as a hand warmer for the next hour.

The First Time I Said No to Chai .It was at my friend’s house. Her mom had just boiled what I can only describe as an herbal potion with the power to awaken ancient deities. She handed me a cup with love, expectation, and an unsettling amount of cinnamon. I took one polite sip and made the face of someone who just realised the “masala” in “masala chai” wasn’t short for “mild vanilla latte.”

I said, “No thanks, I’m good.”

The room fell silent. Even the walls looked offended.

 “Are you okay?” they ask. “You look so tired! You sure you don’t want chai?” No, Aunty. I’m just naturally puffy-eyed and emotionally distant—it’s not the caffeine deficit.

“Maybe you just haven’t had the right chai yet.” This one’s my favourite. As if there’s a magical Narnia of tea out there and I haven’t stepped through the cupboard yet.

I know. I’ve seen the looks. I’ve survived the judgment. In a world where chai is a feeling, an emotion, and borderline religion—I’m just a silent tea atheist who prefers water. Or maybe juice. Or maybe emotional support snacks.

But here’s the twist: everything in my life still happens over chai.

Chai is Always the Default Invitation. Nobody ever says, “Let’s catch up over buttermilk.” Nope. It’s always :“Come over, let’s have chai .”“Let’s meet for chai and a little gossip .”“You don’t drink chai? Never mind, we’ll still make some.”

So I sit there, awkwardly holding a cup of what looks like warm betrayal, nodding politely while people sip it like it’s a magical infusion.

Family = Chai Fans Anonymous . In my house, chai is the fifth member of the family. More respected than the WIFI. When guests arrive, nobody asks if they want tea. They just make it . Once, I offered juice to an uncle. He looked at me like I’d proposed murder . To this day, my Amma looks disappointed, like my entire personality is missing a core feature.

Gossip, Giggles, and Chai-versations: Growing up in Palakkad, chai time was sacred. Every 4:30 pm , our house would magically smell of fried pazham pori and fresh tea leaves. Aunty from next door, with her trademark jasmine flowers and dangerous secrets, would land like clockwork. That small balcony of ours had witnessed more scandals than a TV soap—divorces, love affairs, college rumours, and of course, why Sundharan Nair's son still isn’t married at 35. You know what's worse than not drinking chai? Missing the tea while everyone’s spilling the tea. Because apparently, hot gossip can only be released with steam from a teacup. I’ll be reaching for a biscuit and someone will say, “Wait wait… let me just finish my sip,” right before dropping a juicy truth bomb. Me: Mentally sipping Fanta and waiting for plot twist.

College Days: Peer Pressure wasn't about anything else , It was Chai. Everyone talks about peer pressure in college like it’s something dark. Mine was sweet, milky, and came in a steel tumbler. “Just try it once, you’ll like it” .“It’s just chai, not poison ”. Eventually, I took a sip. My honest review, I didn't like it. But I smiled and pretended to like it. Because you can’t be the only one saying, “No thanks, I’ll have Horlicks.” Even my career was chosen over chai. One fine evening in Coimbatore, sitting at the PSG hostel canteen, my friend randomly said, “You talk too much. You should try media.” I nodded. Boom. Career decided.

Marriage Proposals Over Chai (Of Course).You haven’t truly been Indian until your entire future is discussed in front of strangers while you nervously hold a cup of chai you don’t even drink. “Let her bring chai and snacks!” they said. And there I was, carrying a tray like an Oscar nominee—smiling, praying no one asked, “Do you make good chai? ”. Spoiler: I don't even know which leaf goes where.

Dubai Life, Still Chai Life. Even in Dubai’s glittering chaos, when skyscrapers replaced coconut trees and Arabic replaced Malayalam, the thing that stayed was chai. In this land of malls and karak stalls, I thought I’d escaped. Wrong. Here too, people say, “One karak, please,” like it's a birth right. Every cafeteria, every chaiwala on a street corner—reminding me daily that chai is not a drink. It’s a lifestyle.

The love story between my husband and chai—it's less of a beverage preference and more of a lifelong romance. From the moment the kettle begins its whisper, he’s already halfway to bliss. It’s more than flavour. It’s memory, comfort, grounding—his way of pressing pause on a world that’s always in fast-forward.

The Ironic Truth, I Might Not Sip It, But I Live It. I’ve celebrated birthdays, cried over breakups, cracked job interviews, and made life decisions at chai tables. Always the odd one out—but still part of the scene. Because whether you sip it or not, chai has a way of sneaking into your moments.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect the chai hustle. The ritual, the aroma, the way it somehow solves existential crisis mid-sip. But for me, I find my epiphanies elsewhere. So here I am: a non-chai human in a world brimming with spice and steam. Unapologetic. Unconverted. Slightly dehydrated.

So Here’s to the Chai I Never Drank but still starred in every chapter of my story. Because everything really does happen over chai—even for the ones just nibbling on the snacks .

Here’s to the cup that’s never truly empty.