His little store is located on a bustling street in Mumbai, called Gandhi Marg. Men would come in after a hard day of labour, sat around, smoked their cigarettes, drank his tea and made coffee shop (or tea shop rather) talk. Balrash has a knack for guessing what teas his guests will order and for the uninitiated, he will recommend teas that he knows they will love. There was once a beautiful woman dressed in the most wonderful turquoise blue sari that glittered as she swayed, who wept after drinking Balrash's special tea blend and who later thanked him by kissing both of his cheeks. When Balrash was still reeling in shock from the kisses, she left the tea shop... without paying. Balrash then learnt to be wary of beautiful women in wonderful saris because one can never be too trusting of such people.
Balrash sees all sorts of people in his little tea shop. In the mornings, it is mostly the elderly with their canes and toothless grins, in the afternoons, it is mostly the housewives with their children in tow, or the drivers taking a break while waiting for their employers, in the evenings, it is mostly the shopkeepers, the bricklayers. Balrash would stand behind the wood-paneled counter and listen to the chatter in his tea shop.