A hot cup of Coffee

7pm in the empty school corridors, I dump my bags and walk to my favorite corner in Rotman, The Second Cup. I order my coffee and stand to the side letting the next customer to order. Well, this guy asks me, ‘Caffeine craving at this hour? Got work to finish is it?”

I say, “Well no! Just casual coffee break”

He mulls it over then asks me, “But it’s late! Will it not keep you up?”

I smile and say, “No. Coffee never bothers me”

He picks his coffee and says, “Wow! I think I am yet to reach that state” and leaves.

I get my coffee and grabbing a couch I mull the conversation over. I realized that I never ‘reached that state’ actually. Ever since I remember, coffee really never bothered me. I mean, I can have a whole cup of coffee and sleep in a while like a baby.

I have always been a coffee lover but if you ask me which beans are good or which coffee is best where? I will probably just star gaze or something in reply. Truly speaking, I always enjoyed the conversation and ambience that accompanies a cup of coffee more than the coffee itself.

I still remember those days back in Undergrad, when Mom used to get me a hot cup of coffee and I used to take a break from my books and sit with her for the next 30 minutes chatting about nothing important. I probably had my best discussions with Mom in those stolen minutes. I also remember those lonely days in Chennai, when I used to come back from work at 4am regularly getting to see my roommates just once a week on Sundays. We always started the day with a hot cup of coffee and pending week long gossip.

Coffee reminds me of rainy days in Mumbai when I was tired of living alone and used to hate unlocking the door to a dark and empty house. I still thank God that I had friends who love coffee conversations as much as me and were always ready for a cup. I remember locking back the door almost immediately and heading to the closest Barista and spend the next 3-4 hours with mugs and mugs of coffee and tons of laughter.

I loved London City for the open café houses splattered around. I found a good one on the banks of Thames with outdoor heaters. I spent innumerable hours sitting there sipping at this hot wonderful beverage and observing people around me many of whom were new to the city and many who were natives equally in awe of the great river and the beautiful city.

I think about my family in San Francisco. Every time I visit them, I am in for a jet lag. Obviously I am up at 6am biding my time until I can no more. I then wad through the halls and end up in the kitchen with the newspaper waiting for someone to wake up. Only my uncle did! We then make ourselves black coffee and sit at the table and discuss the past, present and future of our family over the rich aroma of coffee refreshing every sleepy nerve in our body. It is just blissful!

I am guilty of over hearing conversations around me, some loving words, some funny jokes, some business deals and some serious talk. Personally too, I always revealed my inner most thoughts and feelings better over a cup of coffee than a peg of scotch unlike most.

I have friends who say, “What’s so good about Starbucks? I have had better coffee!” I agree. Starbucks to me is adorable more for its ambience than its coffee. Starbucks like me believes in presenting the right ambience for good conversations and peaceful time. I cannot ignore the fact that Starbucks is artistic, very! And extremely classy! And so I am drawn to it, like a magnet! The green lady makes me smile in my worst moods.

All I want to say is that Coffee makes me nostalgic. Nostalgic about all the good times I spent with the people I love and I relive them every day smiling and relaxing over a hot cup of coffee! Spend some time exploring your thoughts and memories. Believe me, it’s worth every penny!

Aaj Bhi..

Aaj bhi khwaab unke aate hain, toh aankh bhar aati hain

Woh pal, woh ehsaas dil ke itne kareeb hain

Hosh mein hum unhe yaad karne se katraate hain

Par behoshi mein gehri har ek jazbaat khilke nazar aati hain

Un khayaalon pe mera bas nahi chalta

Dil ke kisi ek kone mein dabi woh ehsaas khud ko jataake

Bas saanson mein unki haseen khushboo chhod gum ho jaati hain…

I wish...

I wish...

Sometimes in my solitude I see your face floating

in and out of my thoughts like a flash

I reach out to touch you and feel with my fingers

the warmth of your memories one more time

You smile your crooked smile and fade away

an ephemeral shadow just stays behind

My fingers just grasps an empty space

a void left by your mocking smile

I dream of a thousand words I wanna say to you

many a times I respond to your voice

and then the smile on my lips goes back to what it was

when I realize the voice I hear is just my own

I think of a time by the beach with the vast ocean ahead

My head on your shoulders and my hand in yours

The silence of the minutes fading into hours

and yet it felt like we shared a lifetime together

Your words your smile your touch I miss

I miss the couch we watched happy endings together in

The sound of your voice calling my name

I wish I could feel them all again... once... just one more time

LOVE, HUGS & MORE.....

Sometimes all we want is a loving word and a hug in spite of how unreasonably we behave. I swear I am not PMSing! I am just depressed with life right now coz nothing, I repeat nothing at all is going right. All day long, when I see my friends post about how they have no work to do or how boring it is at work, I wish I had something to post on similar lines. Every moment of every effing long day I wonder what I am doing wrong. Is it my fault then that I am in such an ugly mood? Is it too much to ask from people close to me to bear with me? I can understand and I can be reasonable but seriously, I don’t want to. Not right now! It just adds to the pain that I cannot talk to anyone because everyone is busy, either in their own lives or in their work. I call Mom to talk about something happy that will cheer me up but like everyone else, she has her own share of problems to talk about. I did not even manage to tell her that I miss her. Dad is angry with me because I acted all grown up and told him that he is being unreasonable. Well, I thought I was grown up and could talk to him on behalf of Mom. But I gather that for him I am still his little girl and I’m not welcome to advise him. So great! Everyone is angry with me. I have been sulking since last night. The one person I thought would be patient with me goes, “Look! Give me a call when you are out of this mood of yours. I don’t know why you are behaving this way.” I don’t know what else can be added to this bloody mood of mine. You must be thinking that these are such inconsequential stuff. I agree! Petty issues! But for me these are big right now. These are clouding my thought process. I just need a hug and my girl friends L

THE RAMBLINGS OF A SOUL ON A SUMMER AFTERNOON

It is again one of those days, when I laze around doing nothing soaking up the heat of the afternoon sun. Memories from past keep flooding back to my mind and my eyes get moist. I miss my school days when by this time i.e., 5 PM, I would run back home to savor the mouth-watering delicacies Mom made for us, Dada and me. He would already be at the table when I reached enjoying the treat and smirk at me because he cycled his way back and never give me a ride. He always was a pompous teenager and would never let me play with him or his friends. Anyways, that was not what I was thinking about. My mind just finds seven different routes to wander about at any given moment. I used to neatly pile my bag in a corner and walk to the table and take my seat. Mom would pat my head and hand me my treat which always managed to vanquish the turmoil of the past hours that I spent day dreaming. I miss Mom’s pat on my head now. I don’t remember most of the incidents from my childhood. For that matter I don’t remember much from 5 years back. The memories are hazy and blotchy like they are not mine, but snippets of someone else’s life. My room-mate manages to land into a rambling about incidents from her childhood days anytime anyone asks her to. It scares me! I sometime wonder if I have dementia! My brother remembers too. Every little thing he did or said in his life and he is four years elder to me! I don’t! Worse, I don’t remember the names of the professors who taught me 3 months back. Well, unless they did something that would never let me forget them. But 3 months is still a short time period to forget. Isn’t it? There is an exception though! I remember clearly all the unpleasant memories of my life. I was discussing this with one of my friends a few days back as we walked back home from class and he said, “It is ‘coz you do not talk about it enough. The more you think about your past and talk about it, the clearer it is. You are so silent all the time. No wonder you cannot remember much.” That set me thinking again. I remember days when Mom used to tell her friends that I am very talkative and gregarious, that I make friends easily and open up to perfect strangers very quickly. Well! That seems to have changed now. Like I said, this was not what I was thinking but my mind has its own mind! There was this time when I was travelling with my Mom and Dada to Kolkatta to spend my summer Holidays with my cousins. We boarded the second class compartment of the Coromandal express from Chennai. It was an extremely hot day and we carried with us a thermocol ice case filled with soft drink cans, about 25 cans. I remember quarrelling with Dada all the way to Kolkatta for my share. I wonder what I would be ready to give away now to live that journey one more time! I want my childhood days back when I was a carefree child whose only worries were her rival in class beating her to the First rank or how to explain to Mom the tongue reddened by licking at a lollipop or why there are Ink spots on the shirt sleeves? I want my childhood days when I refused to sit unless Baba offered me his lap. I would then climb into his lamp and fit my small, thin body comfortably onto his right thigh and right arm and rest there till I slept. I never slept better! I remember Dad coming home after a game of tennis on my 13^th birthday and find me sleeping silently. He was surprised ‘coz usually I create a ruckus on my birthdays. He touched my forehead and found it burning hot. He picked me up and took me to a doctor immediately. I had the symptoms of Malaria. On my way back a giant black scorpion crossed our path. I was scared but Baba said that it won’t harm. Just at that moment, it started to move towards my feet. I was frozen with fear. Baba killed it with a big stone then and bent and gave me a bear hug. I realized that he would have let it go had I not been there. I miss my Baba’s bear hug.

Hmmm! I do remember a little!! There! my room-mate is back already and I am still rambling. I think I bored enough and I should get going now…

Himmat Karne waalon ki haar nahi hoti...

I watched a beautiful hindi movie today titled, "Maine Gandhi Ko Nahi Maara.." with the lead roles played by Anupam Kher and Urmila Matondkar. It was a beautiful story depicting a Family's, especially a daughter's struggle with their old father suffering from pseudo dementia/dementia/alzheimer's. Here is a poem recited all through the movie written by hindi poet - Sri SuryaKant Tripati Nirala. Sri Harivansh Rai Bachchan was mentioned as the poet in some places.

lehron se dar kar nauka paar nahi hoti

himmat karne walon ki haar nahi hoti....

nanhi chinti jab dana lekar chalti hai

chadti deewaron par sau baar fisalti hai

mann ka vishwas ragon mein sahas banta hai

chad kar girna, gir kar chadna na akharta hai

akhir uski mehnat bekar nahi hoti

koshish karne waalon ki haar nahi hoti....

dubkiyan sindu mein gota khor lagata hai

ja ja kar khali haath laut aata hai

milte na sehej hi moti pani mein

behta duna utsah issi heiraani mein

mutthi uski khali har baar nahi hoti

himmat karne walon ki haar nahi hoti....

asaflta ek chunati hai sweekar karo

kya kami reh gayi dekho aur sudhaar karo

jab tak na safal ho neend chain ki tyago tum

sangharshon ka maidaan chhod mat bhago tum

kuch kiye bina hi jai jai kaar nahi hoti

himmat karne walon ki haar nahi hoti....

It was you...

It was you whom I saw once and never wanted to look away
my heart beat like it never did before you came my way
It was your hand I held once and never wanted to let go
resting in my arms a moment, the next away you go

It was in your eyes that I found a reason to smile
dreams about you that stop me from resting a while
To hear your heart I shut away the entire world
restlessly in wait for a word that may escape your hold

It was you that i saw and wanted nothing more
Its your love that I need and then nothing more
sharing with you, caring for you
It is you that I will ever want and then nothing more..

Deb

Cultural Paradox

The Sun shined bright on the cold wet land

trees in their prime were green as they sang

the soft whistle of the blowing wind everywhere

as merry Canadians skipped and jumped hand in hand

In my land, the Sun is an old friend,

he visits often shining and sizzling bright

brown, well baked people of mine dread my friend

and hope trees and roofs save them from his might

Time spent in the Sun was forever condemned

where fair skin was considered a virtue priceless

and so today this sight I witness amuses me

happy faces sprawled on the lawns enjoy the Sun immense

Some crave a skin tone lighter, some wish it was a shade dark

a frivolous observation but tells so much about human thoughts

nothing is ever sufficient, nothing is ever right

some think of it as a boon and some think of it as a curse...

I think it is just another example in the theory of paradox!!

Deb

Aaj Phir...

Aaj phir ek paigaam mila… aaj phir unki yaad aayi

Bujhti huye lou ki roshni jaise achaanak tez ho uthi…

Phir dard ka aalam chaaya.. har taraf ek adhoorapan

Aaj phir woh naam labon pe aaya… aaj phir unki yaad aayi

Deb

Intezaar

Mohabbat ke panaahon mein sukoon kuch aisi hain

Ki chot khakar bhi har baar hum wahi laut aate hain

Kabhi aasoon, kabhi khushi, kabhi gum toh kabhi hasi

In maasoom se ehsaason ke liye har waqt tadapte rehte hain

Har safar pe akele chal padte the hum par, Ab akelepan se darr lagta hain

Ek humsafar gar saath na ho toh safar naaqaam sa lagta hain

Haath pakadke chale jo raah par, ek aise saathi ke talaash mein

Ab har peher, har lamha sanjog se ladte rehte hain

Kabhi phir woh hasi gunje, kahi phir woh hume miljaaye

Beeti palon ko yaad kar haste the, woh din phirse aajaaye

Useke khayaalon mein gum ab din raat mein badalti rehti hain

Phir se uske baahon mein khoneko har waqt tadapte rehte hain

-Deb

Meethi

The setting sun as pleasant as always threw myriad colors across the sky. It was no longer clear where the sky ends and where the lake began. It was silent except for the birds chirping away madly as they return home to the waiting arms of their loved ones. She sat there on the banks of the lake throwing one pebble at a time into the still water and watching them make ripples in the lake. Her feet dipped in the lake she felt the cool water lapping at her ankles. It soothed her mind and made her feel peaceful. This was her favorite spot, by the lake in the shades of the huge banyan tree. She used to come here every Sunday with her father. She used to listen while he told her about his life as a kid playing in the paddy fields in sun and rains, about his mother’s cooking, about him stuck in his room when the storms outside made the palm trees swing all the way down to the earth and up again. She tried to visualize his stories. For some reason they were always in black and white. She tried to color them up but the colors did not quite fit. Her mobile was ringing. She should go now, Ayan must be home. She always forgot time when she came here.

“Hello Ayan,”

“Where are you Mitthi? Do you know the time? I was worried”

“Oho! I’m sorry Ayan, Just got stuck with some work. I’ll be home soon. Seeya then”

She sighed and picked up her bag to walk home. She never quite figured out why she never could tell Ayan about this place. She wanted to but probably Ayan would not understand or he might. She just never tried. Strange how many things we give up in life before even trying.

Mitali met Ayan an year back at a friend’s place. Always the silent one, she felt a bit out of place in the party. It was her friend Sudha’s house warming party. Mitthi helped herself to a glass of scotch and perched on the patio wall. She swirled the amber liquid in the glass and took a clean swig. Eyes closed, head thrown back she felt the warmth seeping down her throat…

“Careful! An inch more and it will hurt”

She choked in her drink. Spurting she quickly opened her eyes to see who chose to disturb her serenity.

“Ayan” he said with his hand out in an attempt to hold her.

“Thanks. Mitali”

“Is it alright if I share this place with you? The music in there is a tad too loud for me” said Ayan

“you do not seem to me as a person bothered by loud music,” Mitthi said with an edge in her voice.

Ayan did not seem to notice this. He made himself comfortable next to her and took a deep swig of his drink.

“So what are you drinking?” Ayan asked.

“JD on the rocks” she said

“Aha! Is that to prove to the world your strength?” Ayan said and turned to take a swig.

“Why would you think so?” she asked lifting her eyes to meet his.

“Well may be because you’ve been here for an hour now with that drink in your hand and eyeing the Pistachio ice cream on the food counter instead?” Ayan said stifling a laugh.

Mitthi’s eyes enlarged and then crinkled into a laugh.

“You have beautiful eyes” Ayan said.

“Really? Everyone says so. I don’t know. I can’t see” she said.

That was a year ago. Mitthi and Ayan came a long way since then. Ayan did not know then that it was not the ice cream Mitthi was eyeing, it was a dream. But he knows now. He knows where Mitthi walks off to every evening at Sunset. He is always behind her to protect her but never lets her know. He lets her think that she takes those few steps alone every day to the lake side to spend few moments with her father and her childhood self.

Today, as Mitthi walks back home to Ayan, Ayan walks behind her giving her company like he promised himself he would a year ago when he looked into her eyes and fell in love with her.