Every evening at 5, the small tea tapri outside the college gate came alive, not just with the aroma of masala chai, but with laughter. Riya, Kabir, and Sameer weren’t in the same stream, didn’t share classes, but they had one thing in common, their tea table.

Over chai, they shared heartbreaks, dreams, job rejections, and finally, their first offers. Years later, life took them to different cities. But on the same day every year, at the same tea stall, three cups of chai are poured, even if one arrives late or joins over a video call. The chai stayed the same. So did the friendship.
- Rishabh Goyal

Every Sunday at 4 p.m., dadi would sit in the veranda with her brass kettle and freshly made chai. No one dared to miss it. Her rule was simple: no phones, no fights, only laughter and long conversations.

Over time, that hour became the soul of their family. The siblings stopped arguing. Mummy would bring her homemade namkeen. Even the teenagers learned to sip slowly and talk deeply.

One Sunday, Dadi wasn’t there. But her kettle was. The family sat down anyway, and talked. They realized, chai was never just tea. It was her way of stitching hearts together.
- Vedant Sarda

It started as a rainy day and a missed bus. Asha ducked into the nearest stall, ordered a cutting chai, and waited. He was already there. Arjun, the boy who always sat two desks away but never spoke much. They shared a bench and that first awkward cup.

One chai became two. That stall saw them through job applications, family pressure, and that one big fight. Years later, as they planned their wedding, they chose that same tapri to shoot their pre-wedding photos.

Because that’s where it all brewed. Hot, sweet, and just a little kadak, like their story.
- Rashmi Baser