Coffee at 3

He and I go to the Cafe Coffee Day a lot. We sit and talk and look out the window, sometimes our conversations last several seconds and then there is silence but it is a silence I look forward to. I am not ashamed to say it is easily a daily highlight.

We are the young professional types often times seen in coffee shops like this one, well he is and I am along because with some imagination I can pretend to be one. He is true blue business sheek though, the real deal, he bustles when he moves and when he sits down he does so with a confident sigh, like he earned the well padded sofa-chair in the upper seating area by the TV. I, on the other hand, fidget a lot when I am at any table, it is too noisy if I don't. I am fidgeting today with the fork and the thing that holds packets of sugar, waiting for him to walk in from his office down the road.

I like the upper floor because it offers a good vantage on the busy Sadashivanagar 5th cross road, a multi-species ecosystem made up of organisms that would rather be anywhere but there . There are dogs on the pavement below, German Shepherd mongrels, Labrador Retriever mongrels and the common golden wheat Bangalore street dogs. Breeds diffused and mixed together by the freedom of social life. There are people too, escaping being run over, ponderously inspecting a ditch behind the bus stop before spitting into it. Hindi Bangloreans, Tamil Bangaloreans, Pissed off Bangaloreans, on my way home to Malleshwaram from a liquor shop in Yelahanka Bangaloreans, just scammed a dealer in Cottonpet to scam customers in Gandhi Bazaar Bangaloreans. Shirts tucked in, common Bangalore mongrels with wheatish complexion and no pedigree.

I stab a packet of sugar with my fork, the couple cuddling in the corner booth giggle about a sugary explosion of a different sort. I can see him now round the street corner behind a fog of engine smoke, sleeves folded summoning a scowl of arrogant invincibility to cross 5th cross. We are not so different him and I, brown, on the way to somewhere, positively discontent, never once imagining the very real possibility of being flattened under a BMTC bus. Similar beings but ensconced in very different people. I think I could be a Cappuccino drinking, shirt tucked in kind of guy if could stop fidgeting so damn much. I like the way the kind smell, aromatic finely brewed individuals with Income Tax returns to file. Fidgeters should NOT drink coffee though, not good for the fingers.
His fingers however are not fidgeters fingers, they are theatrical instruments, they reflect a collected meditative tension when he talks about the future, they snarl with evil wit when he cracks his knuckles. His fingers are like the rest of him, parts of a big anthropomorphic cast of characters. Acting out his ambition, his sureties and his indecision. He is arrogantly focused on success and he wears his arrogance proudly on his sleeve. It is great because there are so few like that, most only begrudgingly part with their master plan to rule the world, not him. Listening to him is like a romantic escape where it is almost quiet enough to buy into his philosophy.
Like how he always has a method to get ahead, it is always a hard method wrought with idiots, slackers and incompetent adversaries. Things that only become problems if you show weakness and indecision when you cross them. I want to call it naive but I love the idea too much.

He jogs across 5th cross while a motorcyclist loses a game of chicken and squirms out of his way. He pays his respects to the motorcyclist, another slacker dealt with.
I cross the street with a prayer, he does it with faith. My prayer is to the present, his faith ignores the present. In his head he is already in his sofa-chair drinking a Cappuccino, operating a sugar packet as per instructions.

He pushes the door open and nods at the waiter, he will have the usual, he has a usual. The coffee shop is briefly struck by the howling chaos from the outside. The doors close the noise stops, quiet- it is awesome. I put the fork down and sit up. He sits down, leans back and looks out the window, "Fuckers!" he exhales. "Yup", I agree.
Quiet continues.




Over the months I have been privy to several conversations at tables near me here on the upper floor by the TV and the window. The ones that I remember most are the ones between young Cafe Coffee Day couples. Sitting in the corner booth so intoxicated with each others' eyes they forget the brown untucked fidgeter within earshot.
I made this enumerated categorization of couple types on a napkin one day (9/24/06 - 8:34PM) and titled them with fine beverages available at Cafe Coffee Day that have all at some point competed to be my 'usual', I never settled on one.

1) The daily refresh - An uplifting creamy cold coffee with the crunchiness of cookies.
- Relationships sinfully blended to buttress an ego which is aware of its own mortality.
Commonly heard phrases:
-Come on you are much more pretty than her OK.
-You can also do wheely da, Hero Honda is very fast no.

2) Devil's own - Cafe frappe loaded with chocolate and whipped cream. - Relationships are only good if they are yours and people know it.
Commonly heard phrases:
-Vijay told Lokesh you sat on his bike! I slapped him bastard, is it true?
-When I take you to film do I say you can't wear jeans pant!?

3) Cool blue - Bright blue ice slush with a hint of coconut; an adventurous delight. - Experimenting with contact and general giggling
Commonly heard phrases:
-Ushoo! Someone will see!
-What ya! No one is there.

4) Kaapi Nirvana - A chilled-out espresso with subtle Caribbean flavours topped with whipped cream and chocolate vermicelli. A silver prize-winner at the WBC 2002 in Norway! - One day, some day, I too can dream.
Commonly heard phrases:
-You and all are so popular where you will have time for me.
-I know I am not fair but I just want to said you that I love you okay. Okay bye.

5) Assam tea with honey - A light flavourful classic. - At least we can be bored together.
Commonly heard phrases:
-I had idly.
-Nokia is better.