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By 2,00,000 cups, my legs ached and the line bent around the corner, while strangers walked into Munshi Puliya asking for “Chai 2002” as if it had always been here.
By January 2025, the second lakh came faster. Word of mouth from Munshi Puliya had travelled, new faces arrived with directions like, “Seedhe jao, jo kulhad wali chai ki tapri hai na, wahi.” In the evening rush, the line sometimes bent around the corner, kulhads clinked on the counter, and the sound of boiling chai tried to compete with metro announcements and honking.
The struggle by then was endurance: long, standing days, stiff legs, and the occasional shift worked through a mild fever because closing the stall even for one day felt worse than pushing through. But crossing 2,00,000 cups on that same bit of footpath gave me hope, if this tapri could survive slow days, heat, cold, and doubt, maybe it was strong enough to carry a bigger dream called Chai 2002.
Anil Kumar Sahu