The signature tea of the popular Saibaba Gavti Tea Centre on the Pune-Ahmednagar highway tells the story of its owner’s journey from odd-job boy to successful agri-entrepreneur.
For any traveller on an Indian road the best invention after the wheel is the tea break. Those keeping an orthodox view about their choice of beverage straight to best take in the tea leaves. Some prefer to add milk and sugar. Others might want the robustness of masala drenched chai, while some swear by the goodness of black tea with just a zest of lemon.
Rest assured, there won’t be a tempest in the cup if someone affixes “Chala gavti cha gheu ya” as the official slogan for a tea break.
Gavti is lemongrass in Marathi. And the often-heard call as one approaches a roadside stall of Kamargaon village on the Pune-Ahmednagar state highway in Maharashtra translates to “Come, let’s have lemongrass tea.”
Lemongrass tea is the signature of Saibaba Gavti Tea Centre, 20km from Ahmednagar city, on state highway 27. And like the wind turbines of Kamargaon and its marigold farms, the 25-year-old tea shop is a landmark.
It is run by 40-year-old farmer Babasaheb Thokal and his family. The zesty herb that sets his tea apart comes from the family’s farm, barely a kilometre away.
Interestingly, he serves his lemongrass tea with milk and, if you like, sugar.
While sipping the milky tea that has a mild citrusy taste with a hint of ginger, it is natural for the obvious question to cross one’s mind: How did Thokal come up with the idea?
Well, lest we forget the old cliché: the mother of all inventions is necessity.
“We were going through bad times and barely able to grow a crop, even during the rains. That was our only source of livelihood. We could hardly make ends meet,” he said, recalling his childhood.
He dropped out of school and at 14, moved to the temple town of Shirdi in search of a livelihood. He did odd jobs at hotels and tea stalls. In one such tea stall he made lemongrass tea for pilgrims.
“Those were the days when I would send back home the bulk of my earnings, keeping a little for me to get by. After ten long years, I left Shirdi and returned home,” he said.
Back home in 1996, he did what he knew best – firing up the pot and making tea.
“Once you sip the tea you’re likely to observe the tender notes of bright floral and cooling mint that only fresh lemongrass can offer.
“I initially bought lemongrass. Then I started growing it. I bought 2,000 slips of lemongrass for Rs 10,000 from a nursery and planted them on half an acre.”
The crop can be harvested for two to three years and new saplings have to be planted on a separate patch. It’s a low-input crop, requiring only cow dung manure and regular watering.
The aromatic, herbaceous tea has caught on with the locals too.
The sarpanch of Kamargaon village, 60-year-old Tukram Katore, is a regular, never mind quite the connoisseur.
“Once you sip the tea you’re likely to observe the tender notes of bright floral and cooling mint that only fresh lemongrass can offer,” Katore said.
Katore’s chemistry with the cuppa is as good as the kick it gives and the kick he derives from the political gossip he partakes with his ears up at the shop.
Scientific research tells us lemongrass – the tall, stalky plant, which is an essential ingredient in Thai cuisine – is known to reduce stress and uplift the mood because of its antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties.
Science and folksy medicine experts agree that the herb is packed with antimicrobial chemicals and elements that can reduce cancer and heart disease risks, aid digestion and help lose weight.
Thokal’s shop sells about 800 cups each day and even more in slightly cooler weather.
“In the winter months, we sell around 1,000 cups a day,” said Thokal, whose shop opens at 3am, closes for a couple of hours in the afternoon, and calls it a night late.
The shop uses up to 12kg of lemongrass a day and 85 litres of milk—fresh from the family’s five cows and some sourced from local farmers.
“We just walk to our farm and bring back the freshly harvested lemongrass,” said Thokal’s paternal uncle Bhausaheb, 60.
Tea leaves, milk, lemongrass, sugar, ginger, and the right blend of all these in a piping hot paper cup are the constants bringing customers every day to the shop.
There is a second constant.
Thokal is extremely hardworking. He is at the shop sharp at three in the morning and leaves only around 9pm. After noon, when the shop takes a break, you can find him working at the farm
The price of tea at Thokal’s shop hasn’t changed in four years. Since fuel and supplies have become dearer, the cup size has shrunk a bit in keeping with those inflationary pressures.
“My shop has become popular, but I can’t raise the price. I am happy making around Rs 3,000 a day,” Thokal said.
There’s another continuum.
“Thokal is extremely hardworking. He is at the shop sharp at three in the morning and leaves only around 9pm. After noon, when the shop takes a break, you can find him working at the farm,” said Arun Bhujbal, a postgraduate in economics who has a dairy farm and sells milk to the shop.
The image at the top shows a field of lemon grass – a new flavour among tea lovers (Photo by Lertwit Sasipreyajun)
Hiren Kumar Bose is a journalist based in Thane, Maharashtra. He doubles up as a weekend farmer.
