Coffee houses , Cafes and the Contrasts:

What if there was a world a little different then it should be......

then would you call it wonderland 

or never care to see?

Any one of my friends, acquaintances or family is sure to be familiar with my romance with the Hot cuppa coffe, and anyone who has frequented a café with me knows that the what delights me the most is a hot espresso, simple, bitter on the tongue,  and preferably unsweetened with any sucrose or its substitutes. While people would tag me an absolute addict, I beg to differ. For the difference between my passion for the beverage and an addiction is as obvious as the one between a gourmet and a glutton, a connoisseur and a hoarder. I do not drink merely out of a habit, I drink out of love. Coffee to me is an indulgence. If chocolate is molten cocoa bean and is known as ambrosia, then coffee, the liquid caffeine should be labeled elixir. In fact if I were to chose between Godiva and the finest Arabica, I would give in to the beans and be happy with the treasure.

Though I have stocked on a variety of beans besides the widely manufactured Nescafe classic, (Nilgiri, Arabica, Brazilian and would love to add some more) and even got myself the old style brew kettle( all of which was gifted by my father who knows my taste). Its often that I find myself going to the nearest Barista or CCD for an exclusive experience, So whenever we decide to meet up, old schoolmates, or hang out with my friend from college or just for a shopping trip with the best buddies I find the perfect excuse to chat over a cup of coffee. Nothing is more delightful if there’s a cup of fine tasting coffee before you and an interesting company across the table. No wonder coffee dates are so popular, the feel good factor of the coffee and add to that a romantic flavour . 

Coffee and its love can actually take me places and after visiting a few cafes around my place, I zeroed on my favourite hangout where I generally go for the best coffee experience. its absolute nirvanas to sit there thinking of nothing, listening to the chatter and the soft subdued music. I have been there with company but do not mind being left to myself as long theres an endless supply of coffee. Though I am always open to experimenting and would not leave any accessible café unvisited(one is on my mind now a days and I might land up there soon).

 One such quest on a shopping trip took me to a coffee house .  If CP has been your destination quite often and you have aimlessly wandered the inner circle and  walked past the emporiums, window shopping and admiring the wares, there’s a great chance that you might have passed by ‘the Madras Coffee House’. I never tried to dig up the history of the place and if you require that you may search the Google maps and then Google it to find out the precise dates but it seems like it has been there for no less than three decades.

 The place is pretty plain and dull so it would not be a big deal if it went un-noticed.

Now most of you like me might land up there and feel like you are lost because the interiors were an absolute contrast to the air conditioned , tasteful furnishing, bright colours subdued by matte finish and mood lighting that we are used to in the more popular cafes. In fact it seemed more like an ordinary  college cafeteria if you happened to increase the floor area and seated elderly gentry instead of a pack of robust college kids. Yes the place was full of senior citizens , those who seemed to have retired from important positions in the government services and had the leisure of time . The coffee was again  basic, no froth patterned with intricate designs in craft, but well made , brewed from one of those old style kettles and a fraction of the cost that I would have shelled out at a Barista. So I sat there noticing the conspicuous ceiling fans hanging from the tall ceiling with a very pale coat of off white paint and walls that were banana cream yellow and stained with spots of coffee. The windows were large and had glasses that appeared milky and scratched like most of the things, unlike the spotless glass doors we are used to walking in and out of at the modern day eateries. the place had nothing to add to the sophistication that existed in the atmosphere, the crowd too was bubbling chattering and effervescent like a fresh brew being poured into a cup. I don’t know what to say of the stares though, it  seemed to me that the older women were neither used to nor amused by the presence of an odd one(which was me) and there glares seemed to be drawing an invisible line that I felt I had crossed by trying to mingle with the rest. That was until I looked around and noticed the people rather than the ambience, myriad cultures mixed in the potpourri, no divides of class or even nationality . I saw students from Buddhist monasteries seated next to me , rude as it may have seemed to them but I could not help looking at how amused they seemed relishing a plate of Idlis. At the other table there were foreigners , the backpack tourists who travel in a limited budget, sipping on coffee easily melting into the commotion. All people having animated faces with smiles, none able to hear the talk at the next table, different discussions, different classes , ages, nations and yet brewing together a perfect brew at the coffee house. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I observed it all, but was quick to don back the stoic look because suddenly the whole table of the auntys had started staring at me. I was wondering if I should take my stuff and head to the nearest CCD , but I decided to stay , as I helped myself with another cup of coffee from the counter.

the coffee house experience was refreshing from the usual ones at the other places that I frequent. Not that I am not fond of my regular spot anymore but the contrast between an old style coffee house and a café is hard to miss. Sometimes I find the cafes rather boring, with people trying to make soft conversations, an air of formality due to the office crowd or the usual sweet nothings being whispered (not that you can hear them, but you can easily guess what’s being said) .  All said  and done , I guess I am more comfortable in this routine. But next time I happen to be around, who knows I might just feel like reliving the old style coffee house ;)

today’s confession , I would like to end it with the little thing I heard from the aunty ji table:

“Kids now a days. Why would they come here, they have all, money, taste , class, such places are not cut to suit them”… well maybe she was right, or maybe not. But no harm in trying something a little different from your taste, is it? J

Losing a friend and a world being Lost.

Being bereaved of a friend:

I never have written a eulogy before and so this was a tad bit more difficult than putting my honest confessions in words. Not that this would not be one of my experiences in fact this is something that I hold very close to my heart and have tried to let out numerous times.But who wants to listen to a story that has no hope and a sad end. The kind that leaves you searching for the right words to say , some sensitive people tend to it but not everybody has the patience to give it a thought. You might even end up feeling amused or laughing at the poignancy with which I would tell it at the end of this little description that I have of a dear friend I lost. well I am wondering if i should disclose her name right now, because that would be a little unfair, sometimes disclosing the identity of a person before telling their stories invokes more of prejudice(good or bad..can’t say) then any emotional chord, so for now she would only be a friend of mine

She had lived near my place for a long time in fact we were neighbors but I was oblivious to her presence for quite some time. Until this fine day when she came to my place in search of a little something that she had dropped accidently, that was the first time I ever got a close sight of her. She was a tiny creature, not very beautiful , the most that you would call her was cute.  But there were little things about her that made her a charming little sweetheart , she had a nimble feet, and it seemed that she always hopped , with a certain vivacity. Though she had entered without ringing the doorbell or even  knocking at the gate but it did not seem rude at all, in fact her demeanor was very submissive as she cautiously walked in with her eyes fixed on me and carefully lifted her little belonging and swiftly went back  just as she had entered.

It was amusing to say the least, from that day onwards, I started greeting her more often, to which she would either reply with a bleak voice or turn away shyly. She had always been the reserved kin perhaps due to the fact that Her life was ever as simple as mine. I decided I would try and be a little more than civil and that might just help her be a little less meek and then maybe I could invite her to my place a little more often.

She had a beautiful voice and every morning, soon after sunrise she would practice singing, even if I was in my house I could hear her , She must be used to getting up early because there never was a day when I couldn’t hear the sweet voice while getting ready for school.

Soon we were on good terms, I had actually gone ahead with my plans and tried a little harder to befriend her. Soon enough she started frequenting my place, I loved to share my meals with her, though she never ate much, her serving size was miniscule as compared to mine. Sometimes she would come for a drink of water while playing outside in summer afternoons. There was always some water kept aside for both of us on the outer wall of the verandah, I always leapt for the bottle which she could not drink from so there was a utensil for her. My mother also seemed to be very fond of her, so she was always welcome.

That was till I was ten years or so. Childhood friends, no matter how much you have loved them, spent days with them that make memories that you cherish for the rest of your lives, sometimes lose touch.

So as I grew I lost interest in playing the little games that we used to, running after her, trying to catch her even though I knew she was too fast for me and would fly away even before I could take a step ahead.

 But She was there, still living at the same place going about her own life the way she did before she was noticed. I became neutral towards her singing in the morning , it was more like a daily hum drum . I really did not have the time to appreciate all this while rushing for school. So it went on like this for sometime , a few years I guess. I was too preoccupied with the more relevant things, I never noticed that she moved away.  Mornings were seeming more quiet than usual, not that I caught the change immediately, none of us did. Life went on., when one day my mother remarked that how she never heard her sing for such a long time and how she disappeared I felt  my stomach folding but the very next instant forgot all about it when she mentioned a topic that interested me more.

It was not till an year back when we all realized the reason for her sudden vanishing act , that was when my dad showed me the newspaper report on how the callous, unmonitored and illegal planting signal towers had resulted in the wiping of a whole specie that we knew as the common house bids. ‘The sparrows’

How I miss, the way she sang perched on the tree right outside my home, the way she hopped in the balcony to eat the little pieces that I sneaked out of my meals, the earthen bowl that was filled for her with some water to drink has visits only from the pigeons or the joy birds but no sign of her anywhere around. I remember how sometimes I would scare her away while trying to catch her. The innocent games I played as a child and I wonder how could I along with all other people become so insensitive to her presence and the sudden fall in her visits and all that lead to her extinction from the realms of the cities’ skylines.

Told you, you might mock at this tale, or you might trash me as an absolutely sentimental person with a farfetched idea of mourning the loss of a certain species of birds.  But then read it all over again, omitting the fact that this is the story of a certain avian. Do you not miss the flock ? or has their diminishing not been noticed yet. Try to spot a sparrow the next time you are outdoors and if you find one consider yourself lucky, cause there are hardly any left in the cities. Later you can tell the generations to come about witnessing such species that were plentiful and now have been limited to the inaccessible mountains where soon network providers would dwell and wipe them off the face of the planet. I suggest click them too……. Save them in the frames …  I am not going to suggest garlanding the frame now, cause well then that would  take away the focus from the whole purpose behind the story.

 This story aims at bringing this fact to your notice. All my previous attempts have gone vain ,people are not interested to listening to all these environmental causes. Not that am I calling upon people to turn into environmental activists, I am just trying to sensitize them towards the fast eroding natural resources. While we can’t do anything about the birds that went missing or the bees that are no longer seen but we can certainly do more when it comes to conservation of the a biotic resources such as water or the absolutely indispensable forest resources.

Let’s not lose everything to the trait of insensitivity that dominates the rest of all the human tendencies. Show a little bit of emotion. A bleak ending to today’s confession….. I feel helpless when i come to think of all this. I really do.

Cross dressing tips!!

It's a natural human tendency to be curious of what could it be if not what it is at present.........and to live in that illusion is a bliss!!


I recommend you don't flip to the next blog as of yet, thinking that if you are not one cross dresser you can ignore this. dual meanings my friend!!
So do you find men who dress up as women kitsch, oddballs ,outrageously kinky? Next time you make a practical joke on one of  your self confessing friend stop and think. Has there never been atime when you have changed from your natural skin to an unnatural ,transient hide? not just changed into it but found it more comforting and somehow like a resort from the usual self......huh?
believe me , its absolutely natural to be somebody you are not or you just cant be in most situations, its like escaping with an evasive answer to the circumstances rather than coming out in the open( we do that rarely).

what do i have here to offer in today's confession.... certain tips to cross dress..... This is one trait of mine that I am not guilty of . I can safely proclaim myself the queen of this art as I have been successful in creating a completely misunderstood(or lets say incomprehensible) alter ego.
 When it comes to my social circle I have safely  classified people in different radii...and its not the subconscious classification, the kind that we come across in simple human psychology, its the more complicated than it seems.... strangers, acquaintance, friends, real friends and then of course the best friends.......... perplexed?
Its not that I am telling you to become a hypocrite or an absolute fakolina,(I abhor that kind), Its more about your comfort level and how to draw a line between self and all that is uncalled for and it saves you a lot of unwanted troubles of saying hollow hellos, waving frail byes and smiling unwillingly......... you don't have to do that. In short its about clearing the clutter, cutting the crap!!
Socializing i believe has become a stress of sorts, its an absolute mania and hell it does matter when you are a bit of a popular figure in your own small circle....lets say like a lesser known celeb....the prettiest girl in the group, the talented band guitarist, the smart charming event organizer,the impeccable leader ......generally with such a pseudo status comes the need for a pseudo attitude that fits the bill. There's this itch to perfectly fit into the cast that we have made out of external factors and internal insecurities.... 'the crafted image' and then you start behaving as people would expect you to.
you dress up as they require you to , so on a moody blues day when you would rather get out of your bed and drive straight to college for the sake of it, you find yourself being dragged  to the closet to fish out the best pair of jeans, the branded tee , haggardly search for your glares , put them on along with a fake smile and start the drama that lasts the whole day!!...perrrr...fect, and then you become so comfortable with that image that you confuse it with the real you and that's when the whole trouble begins...so you see cross dressing can actually grow on you and then entangle you in its mess..

I have been doing this for ages now....in fact i guess I have been doing this since kindergaden , why and how ? it's another story but since I have been hanging around for so long I got an insight into the complications and the consequences a tad bit earlier than most of us. Adolescence taught me how to walk out of the mess while child hood had actually pushed me into it, more so because childhood was not much of a dream and I discovered more of self in the troubled years( not in my case).
so lets stop yapping about my personal  miseries,( just because I am confessing doesn't mean that you have to know the whole story :p)
The Dos and the Dont s:

first of all, keep one thing in mind: 'you are not as important as you think you are'... dress down your ego a bit and let go, It doesn't have to be all perfect all the time, so act a little natural (oxymoron , huh?);)...  more than half the people would not even remember your name if you disappear out of their sights for a week or two.

next , remember the purpose of wearing that artificial attire, its ephemeral ecstasy and content and if you are felling any other way, just drop it there and then.obviously its like wed,, you can get high on it once in a while but ultimately it might just be fatal. don't get addicted.

As soon as you star being extra pally to people who you don't even remember seeing the last time, back off, do a reality check,  the most important factor on the list:' Am I sacrificing something more important ?' if the answer is no , get back and start it from where you left it else just excuse yourself and run away without looking back (you need not excuse yourself if you don't feel like it :) )

Once in a while go to the people who know who you are and get a dose of reality, the real friends, the best friends, siblings, parents..or who ever you think it is who might just pump out the extra air in your head :p

take complements as they come your way, avoid being driven by them, praise and flattery need to be segregated from each other.

Ultimately find time for your own little indulgence, your time, your hobbies , your ideas, introspect. If you are a rock band guitarist you don't have to abhor old classic Bollywood tunes, or just because you are the tom boy doesn't have to mean that you have to hate love stories or that you cant dress girly once in a while. try not to typify yourself, leave that inane job to others around you.

Well that's all, Its not a vice to create an image in fact a very genuine and intellectual man once told me,"humans wear three skins epidermis, meso dermis and en dermis......... I prefer meso dermis" ;)...

so now you can go and experiment a bit, ready get set, cross dress :D