By Rahil Gangjee
If you’ve ever travelled with Indian golfers on tour, you’ll quickly discover that there are three things they’ll never leave behind: their clubs, their passports, and their masala chai. The first two are obvious, the third is cultural DNA. We’re golfers, yes, but when the suitcase is zipped, it rattles with cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, and a suspicious number of Ziploc bags that would make airport security scratch their heads.
I’ve been around long enough to witness this ritual across generations. The young guys now carry Bluetooth speakers, protein shakers, and iPads loaded with Netflix. But ask them what’s wrapped inside that carefully bubble-wrapped corner of their bag, and more often than not, it’s a stash of chai masala and a half-used strainer their mother shoved in at the last minute. Because, let’s be real: no amount of flat whites, lattes, or cappuccinos abroad can replace the comfort of one steaming cup of masala chai.
The alien buffet problem
Picture this: you’ve flown 14 hours, landed in a different time zone, and your first breakfast is at a fancy international hotel. The spread looks impressive—pancakes, sausages, eggs, some green stuff that looks suspiciously healthy. But the first sip of coffee? It’s watery, bitter, and about as uplifting as a three-putt bogey. That’s when the Indian golfer retreats to his room, sets up his “mini laboratory,” and starts brewing chai in a kettle that was probably meant for instant noodles.
You laugh, but that chai becomes your anchor. One sip and you’re transported from cold, gray Scotland back to a sunny veranda in Bangalore where your mom is yelling that you’re late for practice. Or to a tea stall outside your home course where the uncle with the giant kettle has been serving the same overboiled brew since the 80s. On tour, that connection to home is priceless.
The lobby chai party
Here’s an insider secret: put two or more Indian golfers in the same hotel, and by Day 2, someone’s room becomes the “chai headquarters.” It starts small: one guy brings the tea bags, another sneaks milk from the breakfast buffet, and a third supplies Parle-G biscuits. Before you know it, the entire Indian contingent is crammed into one room, steam fogging the mirrors, debating swing paths, diet plans, and occasionally, life philosophy.
Foreign golfers walk past and stare, wondering if we’re plotting world domination. In a way, we are. Because those chai parties are where friendships deepen, strategies are hatched, and sometimes, grudges are settled. Forget the boardroom—the real Indian golf negotiations happen around a kettle.
The curious case of the chai convert
Our foreign peers don’t laugh at us—they’re fascinated. I once handed a cup of masala chai to a Scottish pro who said it tasted like “Christmas in a cup.” Delighted, he tried making it himself and promptly mistook chili powder for cinnamon. The poor guy’s taste buds may never recover, but the attempt was noble. Over the years, I’ve seen more than one international golfer get hooked. They start casually dropping by our chai HQ with the line: “Hey mate, mind if I grab a cuppa?” They may not know the difference between clove and cardamom, but they know comfort when they taste it.
The time my room smelled like a spice bazaar
I once played a tournament in Japan where housekeeping nearly called the fire department because my room “smelled suspicious.” Turns out the kettle and masala combination had created an aroma that drifted halfway down the corridor. The housekeeping lady came in, sniffed the air, and looked at me as if I was running a black-market curry house. I had to actually serve her a cup to prove it was harmless. The next day, she came back with three colleagues asking for more. By the end of the week, I was less “Gangjee, the golfer” and more “Gangjee, the chai wallah.”
Chai as faith and superstition
For many Indian golfers, chai is more than caffeine—it’s ritual. Tee off without it, and you feel like your swing tempo is off. Brew it too weak, and suddenly the putts refuse to drop. I know players who genuinely believe their morning chai is part of their pre-round routine, as crucial as stretching or checking the yardage book. Is it superstition? Maybe. But if believing in the power of ginger and clove helps you find the fairway, who’s complaining?
The family connection
Family is never far from an Indian golfer’s heart, even when you’re playing halfway across the world. Late-night FaceTimes usually begin with, “Beta, did you have your chai?” It’s how our parents express love across time zones. They may not understand what it feels like to hit a 280-yard draw under pressure, but they know exactly how many teaspoons of sugar you like in your cup. That’s their way of staying connected.
And yes, chai sometimes travels both ways. I’ve had relatives send care packages with masala blends tucked between socks and home remedies. Forget duty-free perfumes—our suitcases smell of cardamom.
Chai and Gossip
Let’s not kid ourselves, chai is also fuel for gossip. Four Indian golfers and a kettle can generate enough rumors to power the Asian Tour. Who’s working with a new coach, who’s having swing troubles, who’s been spotted with a nutritionist—nothing escapes the chai circle. By the time you finish your second cup, you’re more updated than Instagram. In fact, I’d argue the official tour newsletter should just hire us; we’re faster and spicier.
The Real power drink
With sports science booming, everyone is chasing the perfect pre-round drink. Energy gels, isotonic formulas, protein shakes—trust me, I’ve tried them all. But nothing quite matches the kick of masala chai. There’s sugar for instant energy, milk for comfort, and spices for… well, character. And unlike some neon-coloured sports drink, chai doesn’t come with side effects like “why does my tongue feel radioactive?”
So maybe we Indians were onto something all along. Call it Ayurveda, call it tradition, but for us, chai is the original sports drink.
Chai and the next generation
You’d think the younger guys, raised on cold brews and frappuccinos, would ditch tradition. Not a chance. I’ve seen teenagers on tour carefully pack chai pouches right next to their rangefinders. They may play with Trackman numbers and bomb it 330 yards, but when evening comes, they still want that familiar cup. It’s proof that some cultural habits refuse to die, no matter how global the game becomes.
The Day PGA tour smells of cardamom
I sometimes imagine a future where the PGA Tour replaces its coffee sponsorships with masala chai. Clubhouses across America serving steaming cups spiced just right, Tiger Woods dunking a biscuit, Rory asking for “one strong cutting, please.” The locker room smelling of cardamom instead of disinfectant. A golfer can dream.
Until then, we’ll keep carrying our Ziploc bags of masala, brewing in kettles, and confusing hotel staff who can’t understand why the room smells like a spice bazaar. Because at the end of the day, masala chai is not just a beverage—it’s our comfort, our community, and maybe, just maybe, our secret weapon.
So next time you see an Indian golfer abroad, don’t be surprised if you smell ginger and cloves wafting from his bag. That’s not superstition—that’s survival. And remember, in golf and in life, you may not always make par—but with a good cup of masala chai, you’ll always make peace.