Delhiwale: The world of Radhe Shyam’s stall

Tea comes in many colours. Pale gold to pitch black. In this spectrum, desi chai usually exists in variations of brown. This Old Delhi stall breaks the mould. Despite specialising in monochromatic chai, it is a monument to colours.

Consider the counter. It is painted in cyan. The snack case atop the counter is electric blue. Then, there is the wall behind the stall—it is in a pale edition of orange, or maybe some shade of saffron. Whatever, the colour looks striking, and gives the stall its unique character. The establishment owner, Radhe Shyam, himself painted the wall, he says.

Shyam Tea Stall (9am to 6pm daily) takes its name from its owner. Shyam is also another name of Shri Krishna. But the flute-playing Bhagwan isn’t among the many idols and images gracing the establishment. The durbar of divinities, however, includes a poster of Bhagwan Vishnu nailed to the wall. A portrait of Bhagwan Shiv on a ledge, is nailed to the same wall. The ledge also hosts idols of Ganesh ji and Lakshmi ji. Also present is Maa Durga, astride a lion. The rest of the stall is composed of the usual, practical aspects of a typical neighbourhood chai stall—including a notebook detailing handwritten hisaab, that the tea stall owner carries on with his daily clients. These regulars mostly constitute the people working in the street businesses.

The peaceful Chhota Chhippiwara street lies towards a far corner of the otherwise chaotic Chawri Bazar. Most enterprises here belong to paper merchants. This late afternoon, the street is deserted, but the workshops are filled with employees working silently. An old Lata Mangeshkar song is wafting out in low volume from somewhere. In one of the few warehouses, a man in safari suit is standing alone amid the cardboard boxes, as still as a statue.

With its arched doorways and old-fashioned balconies, the street looks aged. The tea stall looks ageless. It could be hundred years old. It might have come up yesterday. “I opened it 46 years ago,” Radhe Shyam mutters gravely. Now, a man in pants-shirt-tie passes by, carrying a laptop bag. He politely nods at Radhe Shyam, who curtseys back with the same wordless gesture. Soon afterwards, lifting his eyebrows, Radhe Shyam arranges a few glasses on a blue tray, and pours fresh chai into the glasses in rapt silence. Confidently holding the tray, he strolls away, turning into an alley. The tea stall continues to be inhabited with Gods and colours.