If we were having coffee together


If we were having coffee…I would tell you about my new found fascination for leaves. I would tell you how I find the rain drop dripping leaves beautiful. I look at their perfect blades and their rounded curves whenever I step out and try to take lovely photographs. They might have come out as the second best choice when I could not find any flowers to click in this new place, but now they are an obsession.

If we were having coffee…you are bound to ask me how I am managing in a new city. And then I would pass you the biscuits that I made from scratch while trying out my new oven and tell you how I am loving every moment of being in a new place and soaking in all the newness.

You would comment on the chilli flakes in the biscuits and might even say that you like your biscuits sweet. I would then have to convince you that this was the only and the easiest recipe that I could try out.

If we were having coffee…I would tell you how I am fascinated by a new language. I would put on a fake accent and punctuate my conversation with the words I have learnt. You might point out that I need to know complete sentences and not just throw about random words. This would make me laugh and I would shrug nonchalantly. We would then talk about how we are attracted to foreign languages.

If we were having coffee…I would tell you all about the little lake that I am fortunate enough to live near. I would tell you how it is nearly the first thing I look at when I am up in the morning. I would talk of its varying colours that reflect the sky’s myriad moods. I would talk of the flickering evening light and how it seems to skim on the water surface. I would tell you how the water is framed by palm fronds that sway with the breeze.

If we were having coffee…I would tell you of the new perspectives that are shaping my thinking. I would tell you how exciting it is to meet new people who challenge my views of the way things should be. I would tell you that I am grateful to see another viewpoint and a glimpse of other inner worlds.

If we were having coffee…I would tell you how I feel dizzy at the endless possibilities and opportunities that I seem to find everywhere. I would tell you that it is as if the rain has washed away all the dust of uncertainty and everything is fresh. I would then hold forth about the thundering rain and the howling wind and the slants of water hitting the earth every day.

If we were having coffee…I would tell you of the different coffee brews that I am sampling these days. I would tell you of the wonderous brew that the beverage chef of the hotel would prepare, smiling his pleasure at my appreciation. I would tell you of the different brands that I encounter in the supermarket. I would tell you of the coffee I had in the train and the coffee I had at the roadside vendor. 

If we were having coffee…I would tell you how sharing coffee or a meal makes me want to talk more. I would tell you that I am transported to coffee shops where I have shared so many talks with friends and strangers. I feel so much at ease that I want to expound on my philosophy of life. Your horrified look would stop me from the expostulation, of course.

If we were having coffee…I would tell you of how I am spinning yarns and weaving tales in my mind. The stories threaten to spill out. I would tell you how different characters seem to come up to me at every place. I would tell you how I feel like stopping people on their way and asking them about their thoughts on life and their daily routine.

If we were having coffee…I would tell you how much I love our talks together.

The Virtual Coffee Date

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you how writing is on my mind these days. I would tell you of that November long gone by when I did nothing but write in the days and late into the nights and how that outpouring was one of the most fulfilling experiences I had. 

I would tell you how much I had cherished that sense of fulfillment and how that ultimately led to my attempting to write again with abandon. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you how sometimes the days look bleak and the weather hostile. I would tell you how the very hot days have mellowed into an autumnal coolness, the days stepping shyly into winter. I would tell you of the crunch of leaves under my feet as I walk along the tree lined roads. I would tell you how the trees shedding their leaves are making me think of bare branches and harsh silhouettes. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you of my quest for the perfectly brewed cup. I would tell you how I step into coffee shops only for the aroma of the freshly roasted coffee beans and bread. I would tell you how much I like fresh baked bread. 

I would tell you how I dream of bread loaves, unleavened which I can cut into thick slices and serve with a strong cheese. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you about the power of a paradigm shift. I would tell you of the little moments when I experienced that shift and the big changes they brought about. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you how loss in our lives catches us unawares. I would tell you that at times it feels that the pain would never go away but it dulls with time and the hurt turns to bitter sweet feelings as regrets mingle with memories. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would talk of the books I have been reading these days. I would tell you of the different worlds that I am exploring in the pages and the myriad emotions there that leave an indelible mark. I would tell you of my disappointment of not holding the books in my hands when I read from the screen and unable to smell them and I would tell you of the wonder of books that enthrall so much that I forget about the sensory pleasure of holding a book in my hands. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you of my delight at having discovered mindful moments in my day to day life. I would tell you how these perfect moments seem frozen in time and memories and how writing about them is akin to writing poetry. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you how connecting with long lost friends makes time stop. I would tell you of how the past and the present come together to coalesce when you are with the person who knows you inside out and for ages. 

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you how much I like these virtual coffee dates where I feel like I am talking to a lot of my former and future selves. 

Some Coffee? 

If we were having coffee… I would exclaim at your changed appearance. I would notice that now you wear your hair longer and your dresses shorter. Your pudgy hands would be clammy still and you would rock back and forth in your chair in intense concentration, losing yourself in the conversation we should have had so many times in these years but somehow never got around to having. 

I would smile secretly at your tinkling laughter, reminding me of the little temple bells that ring every evening all over ‘your’ town. It is a town that you refused to acknowledge, drowning in the imagined shame of being a small town girl. Yet it has been something that defined you even in your refusal and casting away of your essential identity. 

If we were having coffee… I would listen to your stories in your low throaty voice that I have always adored. I would not want to interrupt you while filling your coffee cup unobstrusively, taking care of the milk and the sugar. I would know exactly how you like your coffee for we have shared a cup many times before. 

I would remind you of the cold mornings when we huddled together, bleary eyed over our lukewarm coffee, trying to clear our minds and gear up for the recommended reading for the week. 

You would wonder however how my coffee was now much stronger than I used to like . 

If we were having coffee… You would tell me all about your family. You would tell me of the holi celebrations back at your brother’s place where you go wild playing with colour. You would tell me of your midnight snacks of bread and crunchy bhujia as you watched mindless tv. 

I would remind you of the impromptu parties we would have back when we were living in that ship shaped building, our rooms separated by a narrow corridor that was the scene of so many whispered conversations. 

If we were having coffee… I would tell you how little I have been shopping for myself these days. You would not be very surprised for I have always struggled with it. You would remind me of the all black outfit that I bought for the party. We would talk of the time we went traipising though the narrow by lanes of the old city to the impossibly compact clothed shop, hunting for something that was eye catching. You would laugh at the way I was always wearing black and ask me why I had started leaning towards pastels in my wardrobe. 

If we were having coffee… I would ask you hesitantly if you wanted something to eat. I would listen to you carefully just to gauge if it were the right time to unburden myself. 

I would apologize to you for not replying to your letter to me that you had sent right after I moved away. I would tell you of the blue inland letter envelope that I still had tucked in the pages of my book. I would tell you that I do not read that book now, do not flip through its pages incessantly and absentmindedly. I do not turn to it for comfort. Yet, I would tell you that the book is part of the memory of a great phase of my life. 

I would tell you, in little words and through contrite pauses, of the anger I had held onto for so long. I would hint at the perceived wrongs and my furious response . I would tell you that how I had never intended to reply to the letter. I would also tell you that with time our perceptions change and some introspection is all that is needed to bring purity back to our hearts. 

You would wonder at how long I had held on to the hurt. You would then hold my hand and murmur that it does not matter really, in the long run. 

If we were having coffee… You would smile kindly at me and take out the brightly coloured hand made paper folder from your bag and hand it to me. I would gf out my hand happily for this would match the papier mache boxes you had bought for me many years ago. 

You would be delighted when I tell you that they have graced my cabinet for all these years reminding me of her and the future that was yet to be. 

If we were having coffee… We would promise to meet up once in a while for coffee, a lot more frequently. 

Over a Cup of Coffee

If we were having coffee right now… you would be frowning down at the strong, milk less, bitter beverage, unable to drink it but not wanting to interrupt me.

If we were having coffee right now… you would try not to look around the room for the place would be littered with boxes in various stages of being packed. I would wax eloquent about the joys of packing things, sorting them into categories, grouping them and putting them carefully, having put bubble wrap around them and the satisfaction of labeling the boxes. I would tell you a tad hesitantly about the way I keep my thoughts nearly categorised and labeled too, to pull them out when I need them. I would go on to tell you how I have struggled to unbind my thoughts and put them chaotically on the shelves of my mind.

If we were having coffee right now… which by now you would be swirling around impatiently, trying to wish it away, I would tell you about my partner in crime and our various escapades. You would look into the dark liquid in the cup and I would catch you doing that. I would tell you who gifted that oversized cup to me and when and how much it means to me.

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you about my longing to visit this very beautiful garden with a regal building and an imposing staircase. I would take out a rudimentary guide map torn from a book and trace the route I want to take with my finger. I would pause at the important places and bends in the way, almost as if I were there already, looking dreamy as I contemplate the first view I would have of the place.

If we were having coffee right now… I would look pleased for I would be sure of your attention now. I would take this time to ask you of your work and music. I would ask you if you had saved all the music you had pledged to, the mellifluous strains of which I would listen to looking out contentedly at the lake and the overgrown weeds around it.

If we were having coffee right now… I would point to my work table littered with thick ivory sheets and crayons and scissors. I would show you my half finished attempts at creating props for storytelling. I would talk of my doubts and hesitation in going ahead with tell-a-story to underprivileged children, for I was afraid of not being able to connect or make a difference.

If we were having coffee right now… I would tell you about the pigeons on the tin roof and the racket they make in the mornings. I would ask you if you would like to scatter bird feed to them, which you would say yes to with a wondering look.

If we were having coffee right now… you would tell me triumphantly that you would have to leave the dredges of the brew because it got cold while you were listening to me. I would offer you another cup, though.

Let us Talk

If we were having coffee right now…I would talk to you of my Meditation classes and how they are making me do the opposite of meditation. I would tell you about the long months I spent feeling I had to calm my inner turbulence and trying to find time and guidance to meditate. I would talk to you about the euphoria of finally being able to attend classes that fit into my tight schedule of parenting two demanding children. I would tell you how I had the urge to break out into hysterical laughter the first time I attended the class. I would describe to you in great detail, the beautiful place, the positive people and the serene atmosphere. And then I would tell you that inexplicably, it was making me tumultuous and rebellious inside. I would tell you how I was discovering newer longings inside me rather than feeling calm and content. You would probably shake your head and ask me if I were not imagining things and I would give a wicked smile and pour you another cup.

If we were having coffee right now…I would take out the photos I have clicked recently and show you my amateur attempts at capturing things I find beautiful. I would tell you how I have always been stopped in my tracks by that bend in the road, the glimpse of a curving staircase, the angular jutting out of a porch, the play of light and shadows in the garden and thought about those things long after. I would express my surprise at this most unlikely passion for I have considered clicking photos a waste of time till most recently. I would share with you the unexpected longing I feel when I see something especially well captured. And then I would photograph your hands.

If we were having coffee right now…I would talk to you about my writing. I would ask you if you have been reading me and if the tenor of my posts have changed. I would tell you how I am writing more and more and pushing back the boundaries of what I have been wanting to say. I would ask you about the other things I am writing that nobody is reading but me till now and whether I express myself completely.

If we were having coffee right now…I would ask you what you are reading these days. I would tell you about my eclectic reading and how I feel my understanding is being expanded as I read of an unconventional spiritual approach to life. I would also tell you of the other books on my bedside table, the fast paced thriller, the wise man’s guide, the children’s books for reading aloud and for the child in me.

If we were having coffee right now…I would tell you that I am seriously considering running a marathon. Or a half. Or a quarter, going by my physical fitness and preparation. You would smile perhaps but I would tell you that yes, I really want to and now.

If we were having coffee right now…I would tell you how much I cherish you and your companionship. I would tell you that I am going to hold on to you for as long as I live. I would talk about my regret at letting other dear friends getting lost over the years. Then I would take out the book that a long lost friend had given me and tell you excitedly how I finally tracked him down. And how pleasurable talking to him was, after all these years.

If we were having coffee right now…I would talk wistfully of how I am trying to say goodbye to the place I have come to love. I would ruminate over the countless times I have moved places and conquered the feeling of loss. I would look to you for reassurance, for telling me that I would be able to adapt to this change as well as I have done in the past.

If we were having coffee right now…I would tell you how I am in love with life. I would tell you how I count my blessings and am grateful for all that I have experienced. You would say that you are grateful too, for the conversation and the coffee.