In the chilly mornings of Srinagar, samovars filled with Kashmiri chai bubble away, releasing a rich, spiced aroma. The tea, known for its striking pink hue, is a daily ritual in the valley, served alongside traditional breads. While its appearance might suggest a sweet, floral drink, Noon Chai is surprisingly salty, with a hint of bitterness and an earthy depth. It reflects the region’s history, culture, and even its political landscape.
Noon Chai’s signature colour is not the result of fruit or artificial dyes but a chemical reaction. The tea starts with gunpowder green tea, which is boiled for an extended period with baking soda. This alters the tea’s pH, turning it a deep burgundy. The process is similar to how phenol red, a pH indicator, changes colour in chemistry experiments. When cold water is added, it locks in the shade, and once milk is poured in, the tea turns pink.
The drink has deep roots in Central and South Asian milk teas, particularly Tibetan Po Cha and Uyghur Etkanchay. These salty teas were designed for survival in harsh climates, helping people retain hydration at high altitudes. Kashmir’s version, however, ditched the butter in favour of milk and cream, making it smoother but still preserving its distinct saltiness.
Many outsiders find the tea unusual. Austrian explorer Charles von Hügel, who visited Kashmir in the 1830s, compared it to “a strong soup made out of scorched flour.” Even some modern Kashmiris, like journalist Scaachi Koul, joke that it’s “one of our worst culinary contributions to the world.” But despite its polarising taste, Noon Chai remains central to Kashmiri life. It is brewed in large quantities, poured into steaming cups, and sipped throughout the day, especially in winter.
The tea’s preparation is also labour-intensive. To achieve the right froth and texture, the liquid is repeatedly poured back into the pot, much like how baristas aerate milk for coffee. The process can take hours, and in traditional Kashmiri homes, it is often made in a copper samovar, which helps retain heat for long periods.
Kashmir’s history has been marked by political turmoil, and daily rituals like drinking Noon Chai offer a small sense of normalcy. In 2019, when the region’s autonomy was revoked and communication blackouts cut Kashmir off from the rest of the world, life came to a standstill. Yet, in homes across the valley, tea continued to be brewed. One Kashmiri blogger noted, “It’s the closest thing to an antidepressant.”
In Shalimar the Clown, Salman Rushdie describes Kashmir as “a tasty green sweetmeat caught in a giant’s teeth”, constantly contested by larger powers. Pink tea, in its own quiet way, symbolises resilience. In a place where so much is uncertain, this centuries-old drink remains a constant, passed down through generations.
While Noon Chai is deeply tied to Kashmir, its popularity has spread beyond the region. In Pakistan, it is often sweetened and topped with nuts, making it more dessert-like. In New York, cafés like The Chai Spot serve a milder, cardamom-infused version without salt. The drink has also influenced fashion and language — “tea pink” is now a popular colour descriptor for clothing, particularly wedding attire.
Despite these adaptations, the essence of Noon Chai remains the same. It is a drink shaped by history, geography, and tradition. Whether sipped on the streets of Lahore, London, or Srinagar, it carries with it the flavours of home, a small but significant reminder of Kashmir’s enduring culture.
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