ashir Rahman’s journey is etched with resilience. A subtle deformity in his right hand does not impede his laborious routine, beginning at the crack of dawn and concluding with the sun’s descent, marking the passage to his home – a sanctuary where a wife and four children await his return.

Originating from Buner, Bashir’s family faced displacement amid the turmoil of war-like conditions in the Swat valley. Seeking fortune, he ventured to Peshawar, assuming the role of a chowkidar in a garment factory’s parking lot. However, the monotony of the job eventually wearied him, prompting Bashir to chart a new course. A yearning for autonomy led him to forge his own path in a different metropolis, where he established his business – a modest haven of warmth and camaraderie in one of the busiest parts of the city.

The soft-spoken Pakhtun orchestrates the rhythm of his life from this roadside tea shop. His patrons, a tapestry of familiar faces, find solace on a wooden bench facing him, seeking respite from the daily grind. These patrons, his regulars, converge to partake in a ritual that extends beyond a simple cup of chai. It’s a momentary escape, a pause in the perpetual motion of their lives, as they engage in banter, share anecdotes and weave the tapestry of the city’s latest news and gossip. Amidst this, the echoes of Buner, his home district bordering onto the beautiful valley of Swat, find their way to him through the tales spun by those who frequent his humble establishment.

His black beard offsets the small white prayer cap adorning his head. Bashir says, “Everyone needs tea to function.” His signature offering is the doodh-patti chai, a sweet alchemy of brewed tea and milk that demands 13 to 15 kilos of milk, 4 kilos of sugar, and at least a kilo of tea leaves on a daily basis.

In this microcosm, the young Raj Mohammad, a fellow Buner native, stands by Bashir’s side. Dwelling a communal embrace of a colony, he becomes the harbinger of warmth, circulating amongst patrons with a vacuum flask cradled in one hand and a tray laden with cups, saucers, biscuits and cupcakes in the other. He weaves between tables that are also kept across the street on the footpath, ensuring each sip of tea is accompanied by a touch of genuine hospitality. Tea sells briskly most mornings. Daily sales are, however, unpredictable, but on average, they sell seven to ten flasks of tea.

As daylight yields to dusk, Raj retraces his steps to the dera where he helps in cooking the evening meal. He buys his lunch from a nearby restaurant. “I come on foot and reach here at 8:00 every morning. I also walk back in the evening, but I get Sundays off,” he says. His world, shared with others in the communal dormitory, centres around a lone television set. With cricket matches and movies on the screen, choices become a collective endeavour, mirroring the shared spirit that also permeates Bashir’s tea shop.

Bashir Rahman and Raj Mohammad are both a testament to the resilience of a community anchored by the simple pleasure of a cup of tea.

Rumana Husain is an author, illustrator and educator. She may be contacted at husain.rumana@gmail.com