Tea with a dash of trust: Inside a Bengal shop where customers serve themselves

In a humble 10 ft by 11 ft room with two tables, three bulbs, a small fan, and an open counter, this century-old tea shop holds on to the old-world charm of Bengal’s tea culture. But what truly sets it apart is this: customers make their own tea, serve themselves, and leave the payment behind—sometimes even bringing their own ingredients.

This 100-year-old establishment runs on a single, powerful principle: trust. It is a living symbol of community spirit.

Situated opposite the Chatra Kali Babu Crematorium, the shop was founded by Noresh Som, a full-time tea seller. Over the years, it has been passed down through generations. Today, it’s owned by Som’s son-in-law, who made a remarkable decision: to hand over the day-to-day running of the shop entirely to its patrons. He only stops by in the morning to make the first pot of tea—after that, the customers take over.

There are no staff, no manager, and no surveillance. Customers help themselves, drop their payment into a wooden cash box, and leave. Yet, not once has money gone missing or tea gone unpaid. The system has worked seamlessly for decades, driven by mutual respect and a strong sense of community.

“The shop reflects the old legacy of tea stalls in Serampore. It’s well known among locals, and I’ve visited it myself,” said Abdul Mannan, former MLA of the Chapdani constituency.

Raju is sitting outside the tea shop. (Photo by Sharadiya Mitra)

Local Trinamool Congress leader Anway Chatterjee praised the stall for its nostalgic feel, noting its coal stoves and vintage furniture. “Every evening, people from all political backgrounds gather here for friendly conversations, creating a warm and inclusive atmosphere,” he said. “I’ve visited the shop several times. It’s a comforting, go-to spot for many.”

“This shop carries not just tea, but emotion and legacy,” says Biswanath Dey (50), a rickshaw driver and longtime customer. “We come here because it feels close to our hearts. The owner never intended to just earn money; he wanted to build trust and keep the community united.”

Raju, another regular, said, “Each cup costs six rupees, but we often pour a bit more for ourselves. Still, no one skips payment. We collect the money in a wooden box, use it to buy milk, tea, sugar, biscuits, and even pay the electricity bill.”

Rabi Das, a local school teacher, added, “The customers are the real backbone of this place. Many times I’ve come in, made my own tea, and left—no one checks or questions. The first pot is made by the owner; after that, others step in. I’ve even had tea made by strangers.”

He continued, “This place has become a second home for many—a rest stop for the elderly, a memory lane for the nostalgic, and a gathering space for all. Duties are shared. Some arrive early, others later in the day, but the shop never misses a beat.”

“We sell tea at the lowest price possible,” said Bajpayee, a retired government employee and customer-volunteer. “Sometimes we even serve two cups for the price of one. We take on every role—from manager to delivery person. This place has been a comfort zone for generations, including schoolchildren.”

(Sharadiya Mitra is an intern with The Indian Express)