By Nathan Cook

"You don't 'make' chai, you 'cook' it." Raju didn't raise his deep-set eyes from the blackened, milk-stained pot. He was explaining the major difference between tea in India and elsewhere. The viscous mixture bubbled and threatened to boil over. "Everyday I sit and cook chai. I start when the sun comes up and finish when it goes down." Raju knows almost all of his customers by name.

A cloud of dark, acrid smoke from a passing diesel-choked engine floated down Deeg's dusty lane, locally known as a road. A few minutes passed and the cloud settled. The dark outline of the massive fortifications from the town's 18th-century palace reappeared across the way. The serene demeanor of the Indian winter morning reassumed its gentle pace unchanged from years, possibly centuries before.

"Chai, chai, chai…" Raju's low, deep voice resonated a rhythmic chant to let passersby know the tea is on the boil. His equipment, a small hand-primed kerosene stove and aluminum pot, project an air of antiquity. They could have been discovered in a nearby archeological dig. Fresh cow's milk, water, plenty of sugar and any number of spices provide the essential mix. It sells for 2 rupee ($0.05) a glass and earns enough for Raju to support his wife and two children.

In India everyone drinks chai. It is essentially milk tea with sugar. As sociable as sharing a coffee or beer with a friend, so too is chai in India but more so. To reject an offer is a grave insult. You will never enter someone's home or place without being given at least one cup.

Deeg lies 85miles south of India's capital of New Delhi, and Raju has been a part of the 40,000-strong population for 48 years, tending his chai stall for 18 of those. His family has been serving chai to the locals as long as Raju can remember. He is not sure which of his forefathers started the tradition.

Life is sweet in the quiet town. It is not an opulent existence--far from it. But it is a simple life for a simple man with simple needs. Deeg is home to the Maharaja of Bharatpur's Monsoon Palace. Bharatpur was the princely state before the departure of the British in 1947, when Deeg came under the principality of the State of Rajasthan. Besides the Monsoon palace of the Maharaja with its hundreds of fountains, well-maintained gardens, and original furnishings, there are few reasons for travelers to visit Deeg,--except for the tea.

"I heard someone say it is the best tea in Rajasthan, possibly India. I am not a rich man but I enjoy my simple life. And the chai is good because I take pride in my work."

The day turns hot on the edge of the Thar Desert, the world's fourth-largest desert in the world. The trees provide protection from the piercing sun and its unbearable gaze. A few cotton-shirt-clad locals with weathered faces stare at nothing in particular. The dust swirls in the humid breeze. While straining the tea leaves from the next pot of chai Raju says, "This is my home. This is my family. I have everything I need here."

Date Entered: 8/22/2001