India is a continent disguised as a country: a limited space that is home to nearly one and a half billion people, with a population density of about 500 people per square kilometer. Diverse religions, nearly 20,000 languages and dialectal variants, and over 720 indigenous ethnic groups: all of this contributes to making the country a blend of paradoxes and contradictions that is difficult to replicate elsewhere.

In this complex mosaic, the question is how such a vast population manages to coexist peacefully from north to south, from the mountains of Ladakh to the plains of the Deccan, from rice paddies to overcrowded metropolises.

Gandhi, the label of “the world’s largest democracy,” Hinduism, or widespread spirituality are not enough to explain the cohesion of such a heterogeneous people. There are other elements of identity that serve as a unifying force, and one of the most iconic is food, dominated by spices that permeate culture, the economy, and even the air. Among these, masala chai—black tea with spices and milk—is perhaps the most universal symbol, consumed everywhere and at any time of day.

Anyone who travels in India is familiar with the voice of the vendor who walks through the train cars shouting “chai,” accompanied by his metal container and small cups. It is not just a drink: it is an institution. The figure of the chai wallah is an integral part of the national imagination, all the more so today since Prime Minister Modi began his career as a chai vendor in train stations—a narrative element he has used politically to highlight his humble origins.

Chai thus becomes a lens through which to understand India, a bridge between past and present, between social classes and regions.

On the streets, in street stalls, in markets, and especially on trains, the chai wallah is everywhere. In southern India, where the author lives, chai is served with a dramatic flourish: the liquid is poured from a height of at least one meter directly into the glass, creating a sort of daily ritual.

Chai is a blend of ritual, identity, and social interaction, comparable to coffee in Italy. Recipes vary, but there are three fundamental ingredients: spices, tea, and milk. Water and spices—cardamom, cinnamon, black pepper, cloves, and ginger—are brought to a boil; then tea is added, followed by sugar and whole milk.

Every chai wallah has his own recipe, like Tarun, who uses fresh ginger, cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, and CTC tea, the most common variety in the country.

The process is simple: crush the spices, boil them in water, add the tea off the heat, stir in hot milk, and finally add sugar—often jaggery, a very sweet raw sugarcane syrup. The recipe can be customized with anise, saffron, nutmeg, rose petals, or licorice.

Masala chai likely originated in a royal court about five millennia ago as a purifying Ayurvedic remedy. With the arrival of the British in the 17th century, the drink underwent a transformation: in 1835, black tea production began in Assam, initially intended for the British and Indian elites.

In the 20th century, the British government promoted chai to boost domestic trade and counter the spread of Arab coffee.

This strategy relied on a physical presence in key locations: streets, train stations, and private homes. Its popularity spread widely. Starting in 1960, the introduction of the CTC (Crush, Tear, Curl) method made tea cheaper and more accessible, accelerating the rise in chai’s popularity. CTC tea, intense and full-bodied, is now the nearly universal base for the beverage.

Chai is the Indian equivalent of Western coffee, but without time restrictions or designated locations. It is drunk everywhere: street kiosks, mobile carts, and train stations. It costs just a few cents, but the price does not explain its widespread popularity: it is estimated that the average person drinks 3 or 4 cups of chai per day, amounting to over 6 billion cups daily. Chai is part of the very essence of the country: hot, sipped slowly, it calls for patience, conversation, and reflection—perfectly in line with the Indian perception of time.

After drinking it, many ask for a second round to prolong the chat or the moment of respite. In this way, chai truly mirrors India: yesterday, today, and tomorrow.