There’s something almost poetic about the clink of a spoon against a steel saucepan on a quiet morning. In a country as chaotic and colorful as India, this tiny kitchen ritual can feel like a sacred moment, especially during Navratri. And today? It’s Day 9, dedicated to Maa Siddhidatri, the granter of supernatural powers, the last form of Durga, and the calmest expression of strength.
I like to believe that if Maa Siddhidatri ever dropped by my house for prasad, she wouldn’t just settle for fruits and coconut. She’d take a seat by the window and wait for my signature chai, brewed slowly, infused with intention, and served with a generous pinch of nostalgia.
Let me take you through my morning. It’s not just about the tea. It’s about coming home to yourself.
The Ninth Morning: A Sense of Arrival
Today, the house felt still, like it was holding its breath in reverence. My yellow cotton dupatta was still smelling faintly of sandalwood from the puja last night. I shuffled into the kitchen barefoot, grateful for the coolness of the floor tiles.
Navratri Day 9 always hits differently. It’s not just the final day of fasting,it’s the culmination of discipline, devotion, and at least three YouTube searches for “vrat-friendly dessert recipes that don’t suck.”
The last eight days were a blur of white clothing, skipping onions, experimenting with sendha namak, and sneakily Googling “Is coffee allowed during Navratri?” (Spoiler: Depends on how strict your family is.)
But today felt like a finish line. And every finish line, in my world, deserves a cup of tea.
Why Tea? And Why Today?
Tea, for me, is more than just a beverage. It’s a pause, a reflection, and sometimes, a much-needed therapy session.
On Day 9 of Navratri, when the spiritual energy is at its peak and the body feels both light and slightly tired from the fasting and feasting dance, tea offers something no fruit bowl ever could, comfort.
And not the kind that screams for attention. No. This is the quiet kind. The “you did well” kind. The “sit down and exhale” kind.
It’s also my personal way of inviting Maa Siddhidatri into my life. Not with a dramatic aarti or elaborate decoration, but with an everyday offering, simple, soulful, and made with love.
My Tea, My Therapy: A Story in Every Sip
Everyone in India has their version of chai. Some like it extra milky (read: tea-flavored milk), others need it black with tulsi and no sugar because #healthgoals.
Me? I like my tea to feel like a long conversation with an old friend. Warm, slightly spicy, with just enough sweetness to make you forget the day’s chaos.
But don’t worry, I’ll share the process like a good neighbor would. Whether you're a total chai newbie or a lifelong addict, here's how I make my Day 9 special masala chai.
🫖 Ingredients (AKA: The Chai Cast)
Each ingredient has a personality. Seriously.
1.5 cups water – The foundation. Like Maa Shailputri on Day 1, this is where it all begins.
1/2 cup full cream milk – Because if you’re going to make tea, make it indulgent. Even the gods appreciate richness.
1.5 teaspoons strong Assam tea leaves – Robust, unapologetic, and perfect for mornings that need a wake-up call.
Sugar to taste – I usually go with 1 teaspoon. Sweet, but not diabetes-on-a-stick.
1 small piece of fresh ginger – Crushed. Because what is life without a little spice?
1 green cardamom pod – Gently bruised with the back of a spoon. Adds a delicate layer of flavor, like a soft veil over strength.
☕ Method (Or: How I Woo the Universe in a Saucepan)
Chai-making isn’t about measurements. It’s about rhythm. Still, for the sake of your journey, here’s my tried-and-tested flow:
1. Start with the water.
Pour the water into your saucepan. Toss in the crushed ginger and cardamom. Let them simmer together for at least 4–5 minutes. Think of it as your prelude to devotion. The aroma alone is enough to make your neighbors peek over the fence.
2. Add the tea leaves.
Once the spices have had their solo performance, introduce the tea leaves. Let them brew until the color deepens, like a dusk sky before it rains.
3. Milk it.
Time for the milk to enter. Pour it in slowly. Watch the swirl. It’s hypnotic. This is the dance. Don’t look away.
4. The first boil.
Wait for the chai to rise. It’ll threaten to spill. It’s testing you. Will you turn off the gas in time? Will you let it overflow and deal with the sticky mess later? (I once didn’t. The ants had a feast.)
5. Simmer again.
Let it settle. Let it rise once more. You’ve got to flirt with danger at least twice for the flavor to be just right.
6. Strain and serve.
Use a steel strainer. Pour the tea into your favorite cup, the one with the chipped edge that only you know how to sip from.
The Cultural Chai-nnection
Tea is more than a beverage in India. It’s a cultural constant. It’s what you offer a guest, even if you have no snacks. It’s how families bond during power cuts. It’s what you sip during heartbreak, after pay hikes, and before difficult conversations.
During Navratri, when you’re in a state of semi-detox and heightened spiritual awareness, chai becomes more than comfort. It becomes a ritual. A grounding moment.
In my family, Day 9 is also when we call little girls,kanjaks, to the house, wash their feet, feed them halwa, puri, and kala chana, and give them gifts. It’s a heartwarming chaos, and somewhere between deep-frying and doll-hunting, I sneak in my tea break. It’s my “me and Maa” time.
Navratri & Chai: The Parallel Journey
You may be wondering, what do fasting, goddesses, and tea have in common? A lot, actually.
Let’s break it down.
🌸 Discipline
You need patience to make good chai. You can’t rush it. Much like Navratri, where you prepare, wait, and evolve over nine days.
🧘♀️ Devotion
You don’t just throw ingredients together. You build chai. With intention. Like setting up your puja thali. You want the balance, the aesthetics, and the emotion.
⚖️ Balance
Too much ginger? Overpowering. Not enough cardamom? Flat. Just like life, tea is about knowing when to stir, when to simmer, and when to stop.
When Maa Siddhidatri Visits My Kitchen
I like to imagine Maa Siddhidatri is watching as I stir my tea. Not in a judgmental, surveillance-camera way, but with quiet amusement. Perhaps she chuckles when I spill a little milk, or smiles when the steam fogs up my specs.
She represents perfection, fulfillment, and divine wisdom. But her presence, for me, is felt in the small wins ,the tea that turns out just right, the moment of stillness before the world wakes up, the last sip that feels like closure.
My Chai Mistakes (So You Don’t Make Them)
Let’s be real, I wasn’t born a tea expert. I’ve had my disasters. Learn from my pain.
Boiled the milk first. Result: burnt bottom, wasted tea.
Used too many spices. It became a masala explosion. Even Maa would’ve raised an eyebrow.
Forgot sugar. And then added too much. Balance is key, darling.
Added milk before spices. Nope. You want your ginger and cardamom to flirt with the water, not drown in dairy.
A Sip, A Smile, A Moment
As I sit here now, empty cup by my side, the bells of a nearby temple chime. Somewhere, a child is laughing, probably running away from puri duty. The scent of incense and cardamom still lingers in the air.
Navratri Day 9 is about fulfillment. About completion. And this chai? It feels like my little ritual of gratitude. A moment of saying, “Thank you, universe. For all the sweetness. And even for the spice.”
Chai Lessons from the Divine
Before I leave you to your tea-making adventures, here are a few lessons this ritual has taught me, ones even Maa Siddhidatri might approve of:
Patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s the secret ingredient.
The best things need time and a little heat to reveal their true flavor.
Don’t underestimate the power of daily rituals, they carry more faith than we realize.
Let the tea rise, but don’t let it overflow. Know when to stop. In tea. In life.
Even the last sip has something to offer. Never rush it.
Your Turn: What’s in Your Cup Today?
Whether you’re someone who drinks green tea with a judgmental look at milk lovers (it’s okay, we forgive you), or someone who boils chai till the spoon stands upright, today is the day to reflect on what your rituals mean to you.
So make your tea. Light a diya. Sit by the window. Think about the nine days you just lived through.
And when you take that first sip, smile.
Because you made it. You’re here. And in this moment, with the warmth of tea in your hands and the blessings of a goddess in the air, you are exactly where you’re meant to be.
Now tell me, how do you like your tea? And have you ever made it with a touch of divinity? 💛
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