Tuesday, December 24, 2013

A date with my coffee

Going to Starbucks with friends-nice
Getting tagged by friends-dumb
Ordering your regular coffee without seeing the price-stupidity

I'm a big coffee person, and being a Tamilian may have something to do with it maybe.
I love my coffee sweet, medium strong, milky and frothy and more importantly made in front of me.

I was on line in Starfucks today, stupid coffee place that charges 300 bucks for a coffee..and some strange obsession to see my coffee being made I stood there in front of this glass counter staring at that machine, and this guy with a pony tail with a bored expressionless grumpy face pressed a few lit buttons and "brrruuuuzzzz" the machine puked out a few liquids in a soup bowl size mug got filled with something like a little baby;s diarrhea   (I'm not sorry about my gross description) Its exactly how I felt when I saw the coffee being made. And I picked my cup of watery, not so enticing coffee and passed it on to this teen girlfriend of a friend who swears by Starfucks.

The later that eve,
I go out with my brother, to this small open air coffee place (Tapri in Hindi) on the corner of the road with rickety wooden benches, even before we went near the coffee place, the smell of freshly ground coffee was in the air. That tantalizing aroma.
Filter Kaappi (coffee)
We ordered for two coffees and a kind looking man smiled at us, called for his wife and said "make coffee for our guests"
Guests? He could have aid customers but no..we were his guests and were treated like one 
She then  started making our coffee so beautifully as if it was some delicate piece of art, she put the freshly ground coffee, then sugar and mixed them well, them put in warm milk and frothed it (1 meter coffee) for 3 minutes and gave it to us in cute stainless steel tumblers.
That coffee..... my friend, was heaven, the authentic filter kaapi (Pronunciation: Kaa-pee)...Bliss...It actually took us to another world altogether.That aroma,..That milky coffee flavor..That sip that energizes every cell in your system
To top it all, this amazing coffee cost us mere 8 rupees

Its not how big the place is, Its not how expensive things are.
Its the affection, the expression, the love that you put in what you do for others reflects in the job you have done.

People don't need AC's and Big cushion when they have actually come for a cuppa coffee...
Big chains Coffee places, should change their name to gossip places...

Image Courtesy: My Samsung S-2 plus camera

Friday, December 13, 2013

WOW - With Love

Its end of January and like every year for the last few years, I have started shutting myself off. Being single during the first half of February, especially when all your friends are couples is totally a dreaded prospect.

31 year old, slightly plump, with little flab around the waist, Yes, that's me. Single, virgin and bored with my life as a librarian meant for senior citizens in a deary old skeleton building.

I have always dreamt of having this perfect boyfriend, who would surprise me with things, take me to movie and dinner dates, whisper sweet nothings to me.
But, for now all that seems to be just a dream.

Every pre-valentines, the shops get laden with all heart shape toys, cards, pillows. I do make a face and walk off as if they don't make a difference to me, but in real it makes me scream inside "I want them too"..

Then came, that dreaded day..the 14th of February..Flower vendors making displays of red roses, heart shaped bouquets, couples air-kissing, chics blushing at their men who are proud about the gifts they got. Those lavish plans that my friends have boasted that their men have planned for them.
So many people in my train on leave, and are on special valentine's day holiday.

Phew!! With a huge sigh i entered my dully lit library, and plonked my big brown tote on my rickety table, that creaked with the weight of my bag.
Suddenly, my eyes fell on a well wrapped box on the leg of my desk.

 ‘I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it.’

 Like I have never ever received a parcel in my life, and never a well wrapped with a red satin ribbon bow on it.
With all my mixed emotion, I grabbed the card that was stuck on the box.
"To the love of my life.....from, A"

My hands automatically flew to my mouth, a happy tear stung to the corner of my eye.
"Darn, I recognize that handwriting,"..""Oh lord, after so long....he is here....and f*** he loves me...."

I wanted to jump high and punch the air,scream out loud "yaaaayyy..." but i just stood silently there with the box in my hand...thousands of emotions exploding in my head..

Slowly, I looked up at the picture of my Lord Shiva  and said "I'm finally going to have a Valentine..Thank you" with a smile of my face

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.