My Cup of Tea @ Teasta, The Tea Shop

Need a place to hang out, chat and catch-up with friends over an irresistable hot cup of tea? ‘Teasta’, the little, old-world tea-shop located in Godavari Compex of Sector 37 offers not only deliciously refreshing ice tea, cold coffees and sandwiches but also a niche social circle. All you need to figure out is ‘what’s your cup-of tea’.


From socialising to drinking a good cup of tea, Noidans love doing things their way. Hanging out in malls is a thing of the past and the regular coffee shops, claustrophobic. To cater to this outwardly spirit of the Noidans, Godavari Complex at Sector 37 houses of a super cool tea shop called Teasta. When we say ‘tea shop’ don’t misunderstand this place for a non-descript roadside shack or a tapri. This is where the coolest, smartest and the most well turned-out Noidans go to not just sip hot cuppas and munch cold sandwiches but also to socialize.

The history of this tea shop traces back to a small shop housed in a garage, right opposite Lal market. Back then it had a flattering menu on the offer – Darjeeling Tea, Black Tea, Ginger Cold Tea, Ice Tea and so on. It was never really a restaurant or a hotel and therefore didn’t have a seating arrangement even then. Regulars used to hang around the garage or sit on low stools or mudaas. Young college goers, daters and old school student gangs used to frequent the place. Then it shifted its address to the Godavari Complex in Sector 37, right behind the Army School and close to the Telephone Exchange. The posh location and the young residents slowly and steadily added to its repute and popularity. It would be right to state that the fame of this age-old tea joint spread but by word-of-mouth.

This nice little tea-joint is run by Capt. (Retd.) Mehra and his wife and as mentioned, is quite a number among young crowd who hang out around it to chill, chat and smoke. Also popular by the name of ‘Tea Shop’, it serves a wide variety of hot and cold beverages and munchies a la carte. It is only after you’ve ordered your cup of tea that the ambience begins to sink into you. Media personalities, theatre artists, students and young professionals, Teasta is now the hot-n-happening hub for one and all; a perfect avenue to treat friends without emptying your coffers.

Looking for a place to sit? Do not bother for the tea shop does not have any formal seating arrangement. Surprising, isn’t it? Because of no formal seating arrangement inside the shop, regulars bring along their own mats and perch on the small steps running along the footpath while others squat on newspapers or on the bare ground. Evenings witness a long trail of cars parked right opposite the tea shop with customers relaxing in them and sipping their favourite flavours. Teasta is indeed a place to unwind, open up, mingle or just be on your own. Whatever be your mood, the ambience of the place only lifts your spirits.

Step in and be amazed; Teasta can well be mistaken for an old bakery-cum-curio shop. You will find a vivid display of quaint kettle and hookah miniatures, old photographs and a wall full of random notes, memoirs and testimonials written by the visitors. But if you are not too keen to dig into the curio bit, the tantalizing menu will not fail to allure your taste-buds; it is quite exhaustive for a tea shop that size to say the least.

Iced tea, cold coffee and ginger and lemon grass tea are some of the all time favourites. Paired up with grilled cheese and chicken salami sandwiches, they win hands down over the regular fare at big brand coffee shops, closely followed by chocolate muffins and cookies. Talk of variety and this petite tea shop has steaming hot momos and corn on its menu too! Teasta also swanks of a fine array of various flavoured tea leaves brewed to perfection. From Darjeeling tea in orange pekof, or lemon, lichi ice and peach ice to the more healthy Ginsing tea, the list is endless. For those who swear by caffeine, Teasta offers blends like ‘L’ Orange and Caribbean, besides the most beloved regular cold coffee. And if you were wondering for a miniscule bit about the price tag, rest assured the rates are way cheaper compared to a fancy coffee joint. Imaging a hot cup of aromatic ginger and lemon grass tea at as little as Rs. 20! Have a cup and you’ll bet it’s worth every penny.

Patrons and regulars don’t seem to think for a moment before lauding their favourite Tea Shop.

Says Chirag, “the tea shop is almost a getaway of sorts. You do not require to know anyone there. Just go and enjoy yourself alone, or with company. I go there often on my way back home from work. Every time I am tempted to try a different flavor of tea; they are so refreshing. The most amazing thing is no matter what you order, it hardly dents your pocket. There are times when I am really tired and my energy is too sapped to push me to the kitchen and brew myself a good cup. It is at these times that the Tea Shop becomes my haven. Sit in your car, play some good music and sip a hot cup of tea; you’ll know what I am talking about.”

Tempted to try it out? For those who do not know where the Tea Shop is, here is a quick set of directions to help you reach it.

• Reach Sector 37 or Arun Vihar, right opposite the Noida Golf Course.
• Ask for the way to Godavari Complex. In case you are still unable to locate the area, ask for Agnihotri Gas Agency or the Telephone Exchange. Teasta is located just a few shops away from Aginihorti Gas Agency.
• If you are still lost, ask for Hotel Kamboj, a very popular (and perhaps the only) restaurant in the area. Cross the gate after the hotel and take a right turn. Teasta would be on your left.

The popularity of Teasta, The Tea Shop has reached far and wide, so much so that it has a community dedicated to its patrons on Facebook too. Simply look for ‘The Tea Shop’ community and there you go! Meet your fellow Teasta lovers, chat, discuss, follow regular updates or even plan a social at the Tea Shop! After all, as they say, a lot can happen over a cup of ‘tea’!

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Boori Maa

She used to stand by the traffic signal every single day, without fail. A four and a half feet structure of bones clad in dark brown, wrinkled, leathery skin, burnt out to over fifty five or perhaps sixty years of misery, loneliness and unaffordability was what we 'fondly' called 'boori-maa'( old woman in bengali). And even though her blunt white hair occasionally swayed like wisps of cloud in the spring sky of Calcutta and her ever smiling jawline showed no trace of any teeth inside, her eyes, old and tired and protruding, pierced one's soul with all the shame they contained. Always clad in a filthy, tattered, white cotton saree ( i assume she was a widow), she waited anxiously for the signal at Ballygunj to turn red.

" Maa kuri ta poisha debe? moori khabo ( mother, will you give me 20 paise? I will eat puffed rice) " used to be her hymn. Imagine the value of 20 paise even in our times. Oh, I forgot to mention, it was in the 6th standard that I first saw her and then onwards, finding her by our car became a ritual which lasted five years. Despite the sleepy morphine-injected work culture of Calcutta, she was indeed very punctual, I must say! So there she used to be, at the signal, sharp at 9 am, stopping by our car and begging for alms. My mom, a generous and sympathetic lady that most Indian women are towards (women) beggars in our country, used to gracefully shell out a few metal coins in her tiny, dilaphidated aluminium bowl. In return, boori maa alwys used to pat either my or my kid sister's cheek, depending on whose turn would it be to sit by the window that day, and shower us with blessings. In a matter of days this became a routine so much so that following the act of taking out pennies and keeping them ready in advance to give to boori maa, my mom began to actually pick up a few extra coins from home before pushing off for work, for the old lady.

During monsoons, she would come to us with a tattered plastic sheet which she called 'raincoat' over her head. She new our names by now. She knew which school we went to and what profession my parents were in. She even knew the days our exams started and ended and when our vacations began. I also noticed that with time, she prefered to stand back by our car and have a little chit-chat with us over going to other cars waiting impatiently at the signal. We started getting fonder of her to the extent that we would impatiently wait for our car to stop at the Ballygunj signal so that we could meet her. I think, she reciprocated in a similar manner. She would get worried if I or my sister would fall ill. She would even suggest home remedies to cure us! I wonder whether she was born in or fell to misfortune that led her to begging! At times when dad accompanied us, my mom would as him to give boori maa some extra money. The first winter we also gave her a shawl to keep her warm; she was thankful. The next day, she came shivering in the cold and upon being asked whatever happened to the shawl, she said that someone stole it. We believed her. My mom would tell me sometimes that she thought of getting her home and keeping her properly in return of some minor house hold work but I don't know what kept her from asking boori maa about the idea. Perhaps she though that this would be an act of pitying her and given the fact that she was no more a beggar for us, would make her feel bad too. After all, my family and she had gotten so close that neither of the parties thought that she could be anything better than a smiling face waiting at the signal for us everyday. Perhaps she thought so too, who knows!

In the first week of January 2000, we stopped seeing her so often. She had contracted a bad cold and would sometimes sit on the divider, coughing ferociously, her breathing tract making soft whistling sounds as she would try to spit out the phlegm. One day, we offered to show her to the doctor, to which, after much reluctance, she agreed upon.

The next day we stopped our car at a nearby parking lot and started looking for her. She was nowhere to be found. My mom enquired at the local grocery shops, kiosks and the traffic police about her whereabouts but in vain. We went back home, sad and wondering.

The next day passed without her anywhere in sight, so did the next and the following. We stopped seeing her altogether.

I wonder what happened to boori maa! Was our offer of getting her medically examined too much of a shame to keep her at the same signal? Did she go away somewhere? Did she die? and if she did, then how? - of the cold, of old age or of poverty? Did she think of us and how would we feel when we did not see her the day following her missing from the signal where we had been meeting her for the last five years?

In these eight years of going a-miss, the smiling face of boori maa has intersperced my thought stream umpteen times. Yes, the frequency with which I used to remember her and wonder about her disappearance has shown a decline. But there was something about her that is still throbbing in me and would continue to for many more years to come. The fact that she disappeared totally one fine day does not haunt me. Her face is as alive in my memory as it used to be when she would shower numerous blessings on me-

" bhalo thako maa" - be well my daughter

" porikkha bhalo hobe" - your exams would go very well

" khub naam korbe"- you will be very successful

" khub bhalo biye hobe"- you will be very happily married

" thaakur tomaar shob bhalo koruk"- may God always bless you

I miss her. I miss those small, dirty, weathered hands, her dark brown temple etched with wrinkles, her toothless smiles, her cloudy white hair. Most of all, I miss her hymn phrase- " Maa kuri taa pisha debe? Moori khabo". After a while, it had not been the money that brought her to us. If it was anything, it definitely was love and above all, faith.

Boori maa- the old beggar woman, I write this to let you know that I have not forgotten you. Wherever you are, you must listen to my feelings that are pouring out as I write this and must know that for a long long time to come, I would continue to believe that you are still alive and remember me.

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