Maybe it was never about choosing one over the other
Some things never ask for attention.
Yet, they quietly become a part of our lives.
A cutting chai from the neighbourhood tapri.
A steaming bowl of the OG Nestlé Maggi in the mountains.
Neither is luxurious.
Neither is expensive.
Yet somehow…
Both feel priceless.
Chai has earned its place in every Indian heart.
It has proudly claimed the title of our unofficial national beverage.
From early morning newspaper discussions to late-night conversations that refuse to end, chai has always been there.
And then comes the OG Nestlé Maggi.
The one meal that doesn’t need an introduction.
Whether it’s a rainy evening, a winter morning, or a road trip through winding mountain roads, somehow every season feels incomplete until that warm, soupy bowl lands in your hands.
One warms your hands.
The other warms your soul.
If you had asked someone ten years ago where they saw themselves in the future, chances are the answer would’ve been simple.
A bigger city.
A better job.
A higher salary.
A faster life.
Today, ask the same question, and you’ll hear something completely different.
“I just want to leave everything behind and settle in the mountains.”
It’s fascinating how the definition of success has changed.
Not because cities lost their charm.
But because somewhere along the way…
we got tired.
Sitting in Mumbai while writing this, I can’t help but smile.
Because despite everything, this city still has my heart.
Mumbai isn’t held together by its skyscrapers.
It is held together by its people.
The stranger who helps you catch a local train.
The chaiwala who already knows your order.
The taxi driver who waits a little longer because it’s raining.
The unknown faces who somehow make this city feel like home.
Cities don’t survive because of buildings.
They survive because of kindness.
And yet…
Lately, something feels different.
I’ve always called myself a beach girl.
The sound of crashing waves.
The smell of salt in the air.
Golden sunsets painting the sea.
That was always my kind of peace.
But recently…
Without even visiting them…
I’ve started falling in love with the mountains.
Strange, isn’t it?
How a place you’ve never experienced can still feel familiar.
No…
I haven’t packed my bags yet.
I haven’t watched the sunrise from a Himalayan peak.
I haven’t eaten that famous roadside Maggi while clouds floated around me.
Not yet.
But somehow…
I already know it’s going to feel like meeting a part of myself I’ve never known before.
Maybe growing up does that to us.
When we were children, all we wanted was to grow up.
We dreamed of office cabins.
Business cards.
Big salaries.
Our own apartment.
Our own decisions.
Freedom looked like adulthood.
Nobody warned us that adulthood would also bring invisible responsibilities.
Emails before breakfast.
Deadlines before dreams.
Meetings replacing conversations.
Weekends spent recovering instead of living.
And somewhere between becoming successful…
we quietly forgot how to simply exist.
There’s an old saying…
“Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.”
As children, we wished to grow up.
Today, we’d give anything to steal one carefree afternoon back.
Back when happiness meant a ₹20 note in our pocket.
Back when rain meant getting drenched instead of worrying about traffic.
Back when a cutting chai with friends felt like the biggest celebration in the world.
Maybe that’s why the mountains have become everyone’s dream.
Not because they promise a better life.
But because they promise something we’ve been missing for a long time.
Silence.
Stillness.
Space to hear our own thoughts again.
A reminder that life was never supposed to be lived in a hurry.
And maybe…
Just maybe…
That’s why Maggi tastes different there.
It isn’t the recipe.
It isn’t the altitude.
It’s the feeling.
You’re not eating because you’re hungry.
You’re eating because you’ve finally slowed down enough to enjoy the moment.
The mountains season the Maggi with something no packet can ever contain—
Presence.
The same goes for tapri chai.
It was never just tea.
It was waiting for that one friend who was always late.
It was laughing so loudly that the chai almost spilled.
It was discussing dreams that felt too big back then.
It was sharing silence with someone who didn’t need words to understand you.
The chai wasn’t memorable.
The people around it were.
So, if you ask me…
Sheher ki Tapri Chai or Pahado Wali Maggi?
I don’t think they’re rivals.
One reminds me of where I learned to dream.
The other reminds me not to lose myself while chasing those dreams.
One carries the chaos that shaped me.
The other carries the calm I’m slowly learning to seek.
Perhaps that’s the beauty of travelling.
It isn’t about escaping your city.
Nor is it about glorifying the mountains.
It’s about discovering that every place teaches you a different way to live.
The city teaches you resilience.
The mountains teach you stillness.
The sea teaches you to let go.
And the roads in between…
They teach you that life was never about reaching somewhere quickly.
It was always about feeling every mile.
So the next time someone asks you to choose between a cutting chai in the city and a bowl of Maggi in the mountains…
Smile.
Because the truth is—
We never really crave the chai.
We never really crave the Maggi.
We crave the people we shared them with.
The conversations that had no endings.
The journeys that changed us.
And the versions of ourselves that only travel knows how to bring back.
Maybe…
that’s why every journey tastes different.
Not because of what’s on the plate.
But because of what’s in the heart.
Travellogs 