All We Really Needed Was a Cup of Chai

A few years ago, if someone had suggested that the entire world would come to a standstill, I would have laughed it off. Because something like that? It just didn’t seem possible.

And then, on 23rd March 2020, the unimaginable happened—Bharat Bandh was declared. Life, as we knew it, changed overnight.

The first week was all about denial. How could this happen to us? Why weren’t the airports closed sooner? Why wasn’t there a better plan? Every household suddenly became a mini parliament, with family members passionately debating what should have been done. And I acted like the Speaker in my own house, constantly trying to understand everyone’s point of view and coming up with no solutions at all. 

Week two brought a wave of panic-buying. Supermarket aisles were raided like we were preparing for a lifetime indoors. Kitchens turned into makeshift storage units. By week three, we pivoted to fitness. Social media was flooded with home workout videos—people doing jumping jacks in their living rooms, dusting off old yoga mats, and even learning complicated push-up variations. Parents were pulled into family yoga sessions, and for a moment, it felt like a collective shift toward something good.

Then came week four—the cooking era. Fitness was forgotten as we fell headfirst into food. WhatsApp groups turned into culinary communities. Recipes flew back and forth—dishes we couldn’t even pronounce became our weekend projects. Every group had its own self-declared MasterChef, while the rest of us happily played the role of experimental home cooks. This was my most favorite time, my kitchen always smelled delicious, Banoffee pies, endless rounds of brownies walking in and out of the OTG and the non stop cups of Dalgona Coffees, just made lockdown a little more bearable. 

Seasons passed—winter gave way to summer and eventually welcomed the monsoon. Somewhere in those weeks, we transitioned—from restless, irritable souls to calmer, more accepting beings.

It was fascinating, really, how adaptable the human mind could be. We feared change, resisted it, and yet, when the time came, we moulded ourselves without even realizing it. Quietly. Gracefully.

And Then... There Was Chai

One rainy morning, after 75 days of staying home, I stood by my kitchen window with a cup of chai—strong, ginger-laced and comforting—with a packet of Parle-G. I wasn’t craving a fancy brunch, a road trip, or an escape. All I needed, all I wanted, was that cup of chai.

That’s when it struck me—chai had been my constant companion throughout the pandemic.

Every grim news report was consumed with a cup in hand. Every household debate was punctuated by sips between opinions. Every exhausted parent juggling online classes found solace in that one steaming cup. I imagined our leaders making decisions, pausing briefly to sip their chai. Our frontline workers, overwhelmed and exhausted, must’ve yearned for that one quiet moment with their cup of tea.

We’d taken it for granted, this humble beverage. But it had never let us down. It anchored us in chaos. It gave us a sense of normalcy when nothing else felt normal. The Simple Things.

We didn’t need a seven-course meal or a luxury getaway. We just needed something familiar. Something warm. Something that reminded us we were going to be okay.

And sometimes, that something was just a cup of chai.