Ramadan or not, teetotallers binge on chai. (Though, I’ve known some who practice ‘teetotalling’ during Lent; not so sure if they binge on chai too.)
Chai right after you break your fast at Iftar.
Chai right before you leave for Taraweeh prayers.
Chai right after Taraweeh prayers.
Chai between Taraweeh and Tahajjud.
Chai before Fajr at Sehri.
I’m lucky that way where I live; if you’re in the mood to step out late at night for a cup of chai, the main market (almost a short walk away) has chaiwallahs operating till late, and if you wouldn’t mind a short drive, then you can just praise the IT boom to have blessed us with call centers which have chai-paratha-omelette-maggi being sold around their campuses through the night.
Midnights in a central market is a strange time. Just like that stray dog standing attentively around the almost-done-with-the-daily-business ‘tandoori chikkan’ stall, that cow sifting through piles and swallowing polythene in the hope there might be something inside those bags, that half naked kid who goes about picking empty bottles strewn around the street, that high on hooch rickshawwallah and that stoned on smack daily wage worker, we are no different in standing between all of them and looking at leftovers of a day which has gone past. We just mistake the distance between our cars and the farthest point which our call for chai reaches as difference.
There was nihari on the other side of the night. In purani Dilli. I’ve never traveled in a hovercraft, but I think the car ride I got in the wee hours of that morning, must be the closest experience. You’ll know if you are in a Santro at 110 kmph at 3am; it barely skims the surface of the road giving you the same tingling sensation before a flight takes off on the runway. Maybe a feeling worse than that.
I’ll just say that gastronomic experimentation at Sehri isn’t the best idea. Stick to places you know.
نھاری کو بھاری بنتے زیادہ دیر نھیں لگتی
