The chaiwallah, or tea-seller, on the first floor of the famous colonnaded verandah of Parliament, just outside the press and the visitor’s gallery, must be more tuned into Indian politics and the happenings of Parliament than reporters. For, this is where, everyday, politicians of myriad ideologies and journalists from various publications and TV channels gather to discuss political news or simply gossip.
The spot is cosy, especially during the harsh winter months in Delhi. There are 144 pillars in the circular building of Parliament and each of them is 27 feet high. The makeshift tea point falls under the shadow of these pillars.
The tea, though, is nothing to boast about; don’t believe the stories about the Parliament canteen being a part of some culinary wonderland. The weak tea powder and watered down milk barely mix, both adamant in maintaining their individual identities like Andhra Pradesh and Telangana do. Whenever he is asked, the tea-seller throws in some sugar and slams down the white cup with its golden rim on the table with a smile that doesn’t quite reflect the seriousness of the affairs in Parliament. He sells two kinds of tea: liquor cha, or lukewarm black tea without sugar, and salted lemon tea, in case you are a fan of that odd taste.
The tea-seller is a mystery to me. So busy is he in doing his job that he has never participated in these weighty conversations around him. I don’t know his name; I have never asked him his political views. But I’m sure he knows our faces, recognises the regulars, and has formed opinions about us.
The tea is but an excuse to have a conversation, of course. The tea station is a must-stop for every Parliament reporter. But editors will also tell you not to linger there for too long. Before you can sit with your cup of tea, you have to look up. No, not in gratitude for some hot liquid, but to ensure that you aren’t a receiver of generous pigeon droppings.
The conversations expectedly have a sense of urgency. Will Mr. X get renominated to the Rajya Sabha? Will Ms. Y not get a ticket to the Lok Sabha? The news of the day is systematically dissected and election results are minutely analysed. It is a great place to be seated at, if you are a general observer.
Recently, hours after two women entered the Sabarimala shrine in Kerala, a Left MP gave a short tutorial to the Delhi scribes on the temple controversy and its impact on the Left government. All, of course, over a cup of chai. He candidly answered uncomfortable questions on whether the Pinarayi Vijayan government’s move to facilitate the entry of the two women was the right thing to do electorally. He hesitatingly admitted that the gamble might not work in favour of the Left Democratic Front in this general election year.
Yet another day, a reporter joked to a Samajwadi Party MP that it is time his party merged with the Bahujan Samaj Party since the two parties are planning to fight the general election together. Pat came the reply: “We will surely merge without any hesitation after the CPI(M) and the CPI merge.”
Whether the merger happens or not and irrespective of the electoral fortunes of any party or changes in the GDP figures, the tea-seller of Parliament will make steady sales as long as the reporters’ adda goes on.