Armudu

A bridge of tea and tales.

- Ashmita Roy

The sun dipped low over the Caspian Sea, casting golden hues on the cobbled streets of Baku. In a quiet corner of the city's old town, Leyla's teahouse thrummed with life. The aroma of freshly brewed tea swirled through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of stone walls and the faint saltiness of the sea breeze.

On a wooden table near the window sat an elderly man, Rustam, cradling an armudu, the iconic hourglass-shaped Azerbaijani tea glass. Its elegant curve, said to mimic the shape of a pear, warmed his calloused hands. He watched the steam rise, twisting like the tales of the ancient Silk Road caravans that had once passed through Azerbaijan.