Chai Time : Rajah’s Tale From Makaibari to Rimpocha
Chai Time — A Darjeeling Tea Planter’s Journey from Makaibari to Rimpocha is the stirring memoir of Swaraj Kumar Banerjee, a fourth-generation tea planter. The book chronicles Rajah Banerjee’s journey through colonial legacies, organic revolutions, and sustainable dreams in the Darjeeling hills.
If your idea of a gripping read involves a steaming cup of Darjeeling, a chap with a monocle-worthy moustache, and a spot of good ol’ colonial chaos turned climate-conscious crusade, then Chai Time — A Darjeeling Tea Planter’s Journey from Makaibari to Rimpocha is just the ticket.
Penned by the ever-ebullient Swaraj Kumar Banerjee—affectionately and rather regally known as Rajah—the book was launched on Monday with all the pomp of a hill-station durbar. Rajah, a fourth-generation tea planter, is not your average cuppa connoisseur. Think less stuffy aristocrat and more swashbuckling sage, steeped in tradition yet brimming with ideas that make Greta Thunberg look like she’s only just switched to paper straws.
“It’s my life’s story, poured out for those who dare to make a difference,” he quipped, rather like someone offering a strong first flush with just a hint of rebellion.
Let’s be honest, it takes a certain sort of nerve (and perhaps a few strong cups of the good stuff) to walk away from Makaibari—the jewel of Darjeeling’s tea crown. But Rajah did just that after a rather catastrophic conflagration turned his bungalow into little more than a burnt biscuit. Instead of sulking over spilt chai, he dusted off the ashes and brewed up Rimpocha, a brand that’s as sustainable as a bamboo toothbrush and twice as stylish.
Spanning 583 pages and a whopping 40 chapters, Chai Time is no breezy back-of-the-napkin memoir. It charts Rajah’s evolution from a London-educated heir (cue tweed and idealism) to a man who, quite literally, planted change. Not content with the status quo, he navigated the Gorkhaland movement with the finesse of a trapeze artist on a tightrope made of Darjeeling silk, all while transforming Makaibari into India’s first organic tea estate in 1988 and the world’s first biodynamic one by 1993. No mean feat when your workers are eyeing you like you’ve just suggested replacing tea with tomato juice.
The book also spills the leaves—pardon, beans—on Rajah’s approach to sustainable development. Think low-cost, self-funded, carbon-neutral wizardry that could give Silicon Valley a run for its avocado toast. His “partnership-to-ownership” model gave tea workers a real stake in the game. While other tea estates folded faster than a deck chair in a gusty monsoon, Makaibari stood tall, leaves rustling with purpose.
At the launch, participants from nine countries tuned in virtually, and several bigwigs in tweed and khadi turned up in person, all keen to hear tales steeped in history and climate heroism. Bijoygopal Chakraborty, one of the attendees, summed it up with appropriate flair: “It’s a compelling read for anyone with a nose for narrative, a palate for the finest brews, and a heart for heritage.”
In short, Chai Time is more than just a memoir—it’s a masterclass in how to sip history, stir change, and still have enough left for a second brew.
So pop the kettle on, settle into your cosiest chair, and prepare for a story that’s strong, stirring, and just the right side of scandalous.
Because some cups of tea don’t just refresh. They revolutionise.
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