Ashish Bandopadhyay, 65, has ridden the 10 minutes from his home to a tea shop in Serampore, which is located about 30 kilometers (19 miles) away from Kolkata, on a warm morning in March.
Dressed in a pastel pink polo shirt, Ashish takes charge of the shop, declaring it’s his “turn” to run it today. As he works to make a fresh pot of cha (the Bengali word for tea), he smiles as he declares, “I don’t work here.” “I’m just an old-timer and a customer who enjoys volunteering,” I tell myself.
Located in the old part of the town, this hole-in-the-wall shop is locally known as Naresh Shomer cha er dokaan (Naresh Shome’s tea shop). The production and sharing of tea is a significant component of social bonds in India.
And that’s the focus of this tea shop. For a century, it has been a space for relaxation, conversation and shared moments. However, it expands the social bond by requiring customers to brew and serve tea as well.
Since he was ten years old, Ashish, who has since left his construction-related office job, has been stopping by this tea shop. It is where he meets friends to catch up over a cup of tea.
Ashok Chakroborty, owner of the store, opens the store on a weekday morning and then departs for his office job.
“Until the time he returns in the evening, one of us assumes control over running the shop. Today was my turn”, Ashish says. Ten volunteers work in the shop seven days a week, total. None are compensated; the majority of them are volunteer customers who, like Ashish, have retired and have received pensions from their former employers.
Today, Ashish arrived at the shop at 9am and closed for lunch at noon. At 3 o’clock, he reopened. I prefer to stay here for the majority of the week, if not every day. After my departure, another person steps into my role”, he says.
“Whoever is free does it does it,” Ashish says, without a fixed rota. After using the money to purchase milk or sugar, we store it in a wooden box on the shelf. And there hasn’t been a single day without a caretaker”.
Naresh Chandra Shome’s legacy
Little has changed in the 100 years the five-by-seven-foot tea shop has been going – “except for a few whitewashes and a ceiling repair”, Ashish notes. The traditional coal-fired traditional clay stove’s exposed walls are dark with soot and smoke from despite the layers of paint.
With a refillable price of only five rupees (approximately $0.06), tea can still be consumed in both paper and clay cups.
The shop offers a modest tea menu with simple, straightforward options. Customers can choose between Kobiraji cha (black tea with spices) and milk tea, which is served plain or with lemon, or milk tea. The bakery’s offerings are completed by jars of biscuits.
Situated across from Chatra Kali Babu’s Crematorium, family members often come for tea after bidding farewell to loved ones.
Naresh Chandra Shome, a tea company with roots in India’s colonial era, founded the business. Shome’s current owner, Ashok, only knows about him because he left his job to fight for freedom in that time.
Following India’s independence from British rule in 1947, Shome joined the Communist Party of India (Marxist) and remained an active member until his death in 1995 at the age of 77. His tea shop has been a gathering place for comrades for his entire life, where they would meet, eat, and exchange ideas over cups of tea.
The current location of the tea shop is close to the local CPI (M) office. “Shome was a helpful man and was active in community service. His store was well-known at the time. He’s seen in a photo in the party office, claims 54-year-old Prashanto Mondal, a regular customer at the tea shop.
He recalls how he was first brought to the shop by a colleague during a lunch break 25 years ago.
The LPG gas delivery agent explains that Serampore has many tea stalls, but I frequently visit them because of the shop’s unique atmosphere and sense of camaraderie.
After Ashish has finished his tea, Prashanto rises to assist him in recharging the oven’s coal. Like Prashanto, most customers help with duties such as fetching milk from the nearby shop or filling water from the tap.
According to Ashish, “We have heard tales of Naresh Shome during his activist days.” He would frequently leave the store without warning because he needed to go to the community or be taken by the police, always asking his customers to take care of the place. I believe this legacy has endured – customers naturally take responsibility for the tea shop in the owner’s absence – the test of time”.
From the colonial era to Bengali adda and chas
In about 1925, Shome opened the tea shop on the ground floor of the building owned by his aunt. The 350-year-old building on the banks of the Hooghly River also housed a number of different types of shops, including one that sold utensils, before becoming a gathering place for tea drinkers and conversationalists.
The ceiling’s exposed wooden beams appear to carry the weight of history. The thick limestone walls stand as silent witnesses to the many Bengali, Danish and English people who’ve passed through over the years. The shop faces Chatra Ghat, a riverside burial site where Hindus have for generations buried their dead. Traditional wood pyres are now replaced by a contemporary electric crematorium.
The town of Serampore, home to about 200, 000 people, predates the West Bengal capital of Kolkata by a few centuries and has been ruled at times by both the Danes and the British. From 1755 to 1845, the town was a Danish trading post known as Frederiksnagore until the British took control and remained so until 1947 when it gained its independence.
Once, horse-driven carriages once carried American officers and their families through the streets. Today, the bylanes bustle with motorbikes, electric rickshaws and cars. Tall apartment buildings built in the more recent years are juxtaposed by buildings of European style.
Local restoration activist Mohit Ranadip explains that the tea shop holds an important position in the cultural history of Serampore. The Serampore Heritage Restoration Initiative, a town-based citizen-led organization dedicated to protecting and promoting the town’s heritage, is led by Ranadip.
He claims that Adda and paraculture are still very relevant in the [Chatra] region and that is one of the reasons the tea shop is still so well-known.
In West Bengal, para culture loosely refers to a neighbourhood or locality, defined by a strong sense of community. Every para has its adda spot, whether it’s a park, street, or tea shop, invariably. West Bengalians are a fan of Adda, a beloved pastime. Markedly different from mere small talk or chatting, it is best described as an informal group conversation that’s long, fluid and relaxed in nature. These gatherings are always bound together by a cup of cha.
Naresh Shome’s tea shop, which is a focal point for this adda tradition, draws people from all walks of life to congregate and exchange their daily experiences over steaming cups of tea in the Chatra neighborhood.
Prashanto and his colleagues, Karthick and Amal, discussed the remaining gas cylinders they had to deliver by the end of the day. Some individuals made their own quick tea. Anima Kar, who came with her daughter to catch up with her brother, was one of the evening’s visitors, who was more at ease.
The state of West Bengal’s connection with tea also runs deep. The tea industry flourished in the Darjeeling hills during the British Raj, which is located 600 kilometers north of Serampore. Darjeeling and the surrounding area were the first to have commercial tea gardens. The emerald green tea estates of Darjeeling still produce some of the world’s most expensive tea.
Ashok leaves his clerical job at around 6 o’clock in the evening. Wearing an olive green T-shirt, he takes over from Ashish, seamlessly continuing the shop’s daily rhythm.
Lakhirani Dakhi, the building’s owner, has son-in-law Ashok. Since Shome’s death, he has been in charge of the store.
“Today Ashish da (brother) gave me 400 rupees ($4.65) as the day’s income”, says Ashok, as he poured tea into clay cups. He claims that customers who refuse to pay their tea always always return the correct amount to the cash box or pay it back later.
He continues, “We sell about 200 cups every day.”  ,
A “question mark” for the future
“I love the tea with masala (spice mixture) made by Ashok da”, says 50-year-old Anima, who has been a customer for years. This tea shop is our humble equivalent, according to the saying “If Kolkata has a coffee house where people meet for some quality time and adda, then.”
Anima recalls Shome fondly and used to accompany her father when she was a child. Now, she sometimes visits with her family. The tea shop is still a enduring symbol of tradition, community service, and a love of tea. People are drawn to tea every morning and every evening by a profound sense of belonging and shared history, according to Anima.
At 9pm, Ashok pours the last pot of tea for the four remaining customers and prepares to call it a day.
He has started to worry about the future of his recognizable store in recent months.
“I have no idea how the younger generation will carry on this cherished trust legacy. There are very few visitors from the younger generation who come and participate in the tea shop”, he says.
Ashok’s son, according to him, is an engineer and hasn’t shown much interest in the store.
Restoration activist Ranadip shares his concerns, saying, “The younger generation has little time for adda, which seriously skews the future of the store like this.”
