He literally boils the milk, sugar and little dust tea in a tumbler that's never been washed off the stains. The boiling continues as the office goers and the morning walkers gather to the lovely aroma of the secret masala that the man never shares. The flavor is somewhat gingerish, cardamomish and something more and something different. The passengers are glued to the shop till the signal turns green when they are forced to take their eyes off the morning saga.
And as I watch the man and his insipid tea stall, I am reminded of the saffron tea, expensive and exquisite, that I had on one of the five star tea joints, many years back.