Some of the best conversations I have seem to happen over a cup of coffee. My favourite place in Hyderabad was, for a long time, the Barista in Jubilee Hills. I have no clue what’s happened to the place now. I wonder if it’s still the twenty-something hangout that it used to be when I was around.
There’s something exceptionally relaxing about hanging out with friends, drinking coffee (preferably cold), eating the carrot-corn salad, WW strumming the guitar with one of the two (always a backup, eh WW?) picks he carried in his wallet and me humming along, without a care for the people who stopped to stare…
As life moved on, I got busier, tied up with wedding shopping, absurd notions of “Mom would hate it” and essentially moved into a fiancé (and later husband) centric universe. The cup of coffee was long forgotten. Friends were caught over SMS or IM or email but there was rarely enough time to linger over a cup of coffee anymore.
All conversation was hurried and to the point. Who had the time to ramble on about places, people, dreams and such? There was a reality to be lived and a future to be planned. All randomness and speculation was shelved. All
Now that I think about it, I haven’t had a cup of coffee that wasn’t served in a disposable cup since I’ve been here in the US. Coffee always seems to be to go. Never to stay. There is always something to do. Something to be planned, something to be picked up or dropped off, or written or put away or bought or sold or said or documented or acted upon. There hardly seems to be a moment when I can sit down with a good coffee and a great book or friend. There is a home, there are possessions, there are responsibilities, uncertainties… There are plans, there are actions.
There are misunderstandings, loss of temper. There are disagreements, recriminations, justifications, reconciliations.
There are road trips, journeys and moves.
There’s Facebook and IM and email and the odd phone call or two.
But there are no coversations.
No cups of coffee.
And no friends.