It is a small tea shop opposite our home.
It has a six foot, six footed wooden bench, which may park about a few hundred by the end of the day.
The tea shop man and his wife start work, early at 4 .30 am lighting the fire wood stove, and waiting for the milk man and gets his glass tumblers ready for the first tea sippers.
Some prefer to have the maida bun along with the tea, an introduction from the English, our men found similarities and pronounce tiffin as tea bun.
The shop owner gets the copies of the news papers and the usual gossip starts, from the political to the cinemas and in between the local market trends in business and family affairs.
There is a continuous flow of clients who have a tea before a meal to others who have it after, the workers arrive to have a relaxation, and wait at the side if they find their boss in the same shop.
In the mid mornings the lady makes murukkus and vadais, a local catch up, and can be a festival crowd at the monsoons times when a hot tea and vadai can be a welcome warmth
One could still find the smokers puffing, as no one seems to make objections yet to their pollutions.
There are other tea shops, and which even offer tempting combinations of the brew, but those who are addicted to this shop stay religiously affectionate to it to come back again and again for a sip and gossip.