Of rain and cups of hot tea

Today dawned wet and cold. When I sat up in bed, I realized the cat was not in his usual spot on the comforter. I moved to look around the bed when I felt something soft against my calves. The something soft was purring.

You see what I mean? Today morning was wet and cold. The kind of morning that makes a cat burrow under a down-comforter instead of lying on top of it. But we were up, there was no going back to bed now. The cat was arching his back and starting his series of post-nap stretches.

For a little while after we had woken up, we sat and watched the rain. I sipped my coffee and the cat ate his breakfast, which was followed by his ritualistic face-washing session.

Having grown up in Bombay (now Mumbai) I have always loved the rain. Cold though it may be, I love these wet Chicago days, so reminiscent of the full-blown monsoon back home. Through a reaction almost as instinctive and ritualistic as the cat's post-meal face-washing, I find myself trying to recreate memories that seem almost inextricably entwined with the rains. Memories of home. Like, walking in the rain on Marine Drive with my dearest friends, eating piping hot bhajjias and fire-roasted ears of corn from street vendors, drinking hot coffee at Churchgate station before boarding the train back home, on which we would all promptly fall asleep cold and wet, yet giddily happy.

Monsoon always conquers the city of Mumbai. The rain drops don't just wash the city, they scrub it clean. Their sound, as they lash onto our streets and buildings, mute the noise of the loudest engines. Construction work stops, cars move slower, and strangers stand together under awnings, staring at the rain with mixed feelings of relief and resentment. Relief for the respite from the heat, and resentment for breaking the rhythm of their stride. There are others too, who carry on unfettered. With umbrellas and improvisations (like newspapers?!) to shield them from the rain.
Yes, the monsoon always conquers the city of Mumbai.
Forcing her to slow down. Take a break. Flush her lungs.

And through this all, the entire city seems united in the belief that there could be no greater joy than a piping hot cup of chai or coffee.

So here goes - a recipe for authentic Indian Chai masala (Chai-Spice) 

1 tbsp Green Cardamom (crush them to remove the seeds inside the pod)
1 tbsp Ground Ginger Powder 
1 tsp Black Pepper Corns
1 tsp All Spice (whole)
1 tsp Cinnamon powder
1 tsp Cloves


Grind these spices together in a spice mill/ coffee grinder to a fine powder and store in an airtight container for up to six months. You could even store it in the refriderator or freezer, just so long as you take as much as you need from the airtight container with a dry spoon and return it to the fridge promptly.

You only need a pinch for each cup of tea, so this prepared mix should last a while.