Meera smiled. “And yet, your tea tastes sweeter than mine.”

In the narrow, spice-scented lanes of Old Delhi, there was a small chai shop called TSP . No one remembered what the initials stood for anymore. Some said “Taste, Sip, Peace.” Others joked it was “Tea, Samosa, Patience.” But for Rohan and Meera, it was simply TSP — Tum, Saath, Phir se (You, Together, Again).

One rainy evening, Bholaram found an old notebook left behind at the shop. Inside, on a page torn from a lab journal, Rohan had written: Experiment: To measure the sweetness of presence. Method: Add 1 tsp of ‘hum’ (me) + 1 tsp of ‘tum’ (you) to a cup of ordinary time. Observation: Without ‘tum’, the solution is bitter, despite correct sugar levels. Conclusion: A teaspoon is not just a unit of volume. It is a unit of love. 1 tsp hum + 1 tsp tum = infinite chai. Below it, in Meera’s handwriting, was a poem: You measured the world in spoons and scales, I measured it in the pause after your tales. A teaspoon of silence, a teaspoon of fight, Mix them slowly — you’ll get us right. Bholaram sent a photo of the page to both of them. An hour later, they arrived at TSP — from opposite ends of the lane, in the same rain, without umbrellas.

He frowned. “That’s scientifically impossible. We both add one teaspoon.”