HOT BLACK COFFEE - 1

A morning without coffee is like sleep

Some tastes, some moods, some emotions“ blend so well. Wine with warmth, chocolates with love, olives with passion and coffee” transcends all barriers to reach the soul of every feeling.

No, I am not a coffee maniac. Neither am I a connoisseur. I belong to the class of people who love to drive, without knowing much about the technicalities of the car (car = coffee).

How did it all start? For nine years of my life I was tortured, everyday, two times a day, to choke down that pathetically choclated milk. In other words, Horlicks. The fun of going to school was distorted with the thought of gulping down that venom like liquid. In the eight year of my life, I started taming a delusion that I could outsmart my mother. So every morning, without fail, I would drain the milk down the bathroom sink. With repetition I presumed that I had mastered the skill, and thus became more casual about the act. Till one fine day, the crime was discovered. ( No crime is a crime till it is discovered)

“for how long have you been doing this?” a lady was yelling“ ( I disowned my mom at that moment)

” maa, this was the first time. There was some insect floating’“.”

I gave the most apt excuse I could think of. But the twenty-five years gap acted as an impediment. The week after the guillotine was ordered. Every day, three times a day with one boiled egg.

At ten, I got the volition to choose the detonator. The choices were Horlicks, Porridge, Bournvita, Boost and Maltova. Alas’all roads lead to Rome.

Time passed. I was sent away to a Boarding school. Gauging by the standard of the food served in the mess, milk came as a blessing in disguise. Plain milk diluted in water. And then it happened.

“pa pa ra pa ra ra ra” I fell in love with that tune. The Nescafe add did something to me. And the cupid struck. I tasted it for the first time during my summer vacations. On the last day of the vacation mom took me out to buy some tuck. Our spirits were low. I wouldn’t be seeing her for the next three months. And so I emotionally blackmailed her to buy me the coffee jar ( coffee was a no no for kids then). Only to be sent back home. It so happened that Sister John discovered the jar while I was unpacking.

“ Junior School Inmates (term used for prisoners at Tihar Jail) are not allowed to drink coffee, Coca Cola, carry sweets”’’“ the lady yelled ( I disowned her too”.)

And so another two years passed. Mom took me out of the hostel for a trip to England. I tasted Kellogs for the first time. Yummiieee.. — but my love for coffee never lessened. The first day at school was fun. They taught us subtraction and addition of three digit numbers, when I had already covered topics like Linear Equations back home. Result” I was re-christened as brainy bird (not bird brain.. like my brother called me), Edison, some guy called Einstein .. and what not. I am glad those people are no longer alive( else they would have died of chagrin). Ok, I am diverting.. ( excuse me.. I have not had my coffee).. coming back to coffee. The mess here, unlike its counter part in India, was a paradise. And coffee was distributed like water. Pay three pounds a week and give a smile to Angela. And I could have as many cups I wanted. I had the time of my life then.

Back home, the routine continued. Only to be discovered that if I continued at my present frequency, I would get addicted. “Its like doping, you’ll get pimples”“, I was told. So I was prohibited from even”.

Hang on,

ERROR MESSAGE: COFFEE.EXE Missing - Insert Cup and Press Any Key

Yaa, sorry, this computer..

And then college happened. Bunking classes to have coffee, discussing the most trivial of romances over coffee, the examination fever fought with coffee, waiting for results with coffee, treats of coffee .. .and it went on.

Some of the most memorable moments in my life are associated with that drink.

1. The first time a guy asked me out“ hey wanna join me for a coffee.. 2. My graduation walk, after a night long party. Had it not been for that coffee, I would have dozed off, while the chief guest was announcing my name”. “ishita vohra.. ishita vohra”“ no response” “Karan singh” someone prods me to get up. “yaa” I shout, and go on stage“( didn’t happen of course) 3. Studying for the Derivatives paper a night before the exam, and actually have the courage to go and take the exam. ( courtsey: Nescafe) 4. ”Can I get you some coffee?“ with a sweet smile, when mom saw my second semester progress report. 5. yaaawwwwwwwwwwnnnn”’.. Error running WAKEUP.BAT: COFFEE.INI not found.

And college got over. A friend from Pusa Institute of Hotel Management got placed at Barista. I gave him my resume against my resolve of not working for a year. I want to be a coffee taster I told him. Expectations galore. I was found too qualified for the job. Never mind.

Sometimes I go and spend an evening at a Barista outlet nearby. Very few people relish the taste of their coffees. Some just gulp it down. Some lose it while rambling, thinking or observing others. And some like me are lost in that aroma.

Wonder how we ignore the little pleasures of life. Big deal, its just a coffee right! How about the sweet smell of wet earth, the fragrance of incense early in the morning, the taste of homemade food after being away for a long time”

Try this out. Next time you sip that nectar, close your eyes and let the taste prevail.

DISCLAIMER: This article was written before my first coffee ( for the day)