The perfect coffee 10

So I'm in Chennai - Coffee central.

I had coffee and butter biscuits from a tiny cafe down the road from my workplace. It was filter coffee with a Chennai twist :)

A coffee after dinner. Not a very good habit but oh well. I had dinner at Taj Coromandel the other night. A huge, tasty meal and I was so full, I could hardly move. But then the waiter comes up and asks "Madam, would you like a cup of coffee." You can guess what I said :) So it was a great meal rounded off by some really good coffee. The Taj after all :) And this was also the first time I tried my coffee with demerara sugar. It gives the coffee a different flavour altogether.

Breakfast was at the Lemon Tree hotel in Guindy. A huge, late breakfast which kept me going till dinnertime. And after pancakes, a mushroom omellette, bacon (which I completely and totally love, but that is another story), toast with extra butter and sausages, a cup of coffee just rounded out the whole meal. Though I must say it was just OK. Not as good as I expected it to be.

It would be blasphemy if I didn't write about the coffee which my grandmother makes for me almost every day. After I get home from work and have dinner, she boils the milk and makes the filter coffee decoction for the next day. And when I ask for a cup she makes it just right, just like that.

My mother wonders where the sudden obsession came from because coffee was an occassional thing in Hyderabad. I can't seem to explain why, or how. But the coffee lover in me has risen and is here to stay. I think it's very very odd that she can't even stand the smell of coffee :)

I'm on the lookout for a coffee mug. I have one really good, BIG one which my aunt bought from Cafe Coffee Day and I love it. But I still want a mug which is me. It's hard to explain but I think that I still need my own, particular distinctive mug because anyone could have a CCD mug :) Any ideas, suggestions - please share.

I need to visit this place my mother told me about. A small corner where they sold "metre coffee" and butter biscuits near the college where she studied a long, long time back :P Must make time for it, because my trip would be incomplete without it.

The craze continues. And those who still keep up with these posts, thank you. I shall promise not to disappoint :D

May the force be with me, and you :)

Ouch

I have never been punched. I have been slapped before. But never punched.

But right now, I feel like I've been punched. Like a wham in my stomach and a right hook to my chin. Like having the wind knocked out of me.

So you gasp for a breath. And try to find a place where you wish the pain went away. A place where you can nurse the wound. Heal maybe. Sew things back up.

But there aren't many of those around. You look for the arms of someone to give you comfort and tell you that it can all be stitched back up. But you know, that in the end, all the stitching and the healing, has to come from you.

And you alone.

So you try and you fail. And then try again. Hoping that this time it'll actually work.

The idle mind is a devil's workshop. How true.

We had a creative writing competition of sorts. We were given a prompt and we had to build on it. Here's what I wrote. And this was sometime in the first semester. I don't like it.

I was walking down the street and suddenly I saw him. The old man with the flowers. He was smiling and humming a tune to himself. His hair was all white and his face was as wrinkled as a sun dried tomato. But his eyes, that’s what I remembered. His twinkling blue eyes. Eyes as blue as the sky in summer.

He offered me a daisy. “It’s completely free. Just for you,” he said and gave me that smile again. “Free? Why?” I asked. “You look like you need it. Daisies are the happiest flowers,” he answered. “Why would you say that?” I asked. “You look troubled my child. Those brown eyes shouldn’t be so sad,” he replied, “tell Grandpa Joe what’s wrong.”

I had never met him before. He was a complete stranger, but I couldn’t explain why I trusted him instantly. I knew he would understand and I did something that I hadn’t done in a long, long time. I cried.

He enveloped me in a tight hug and just let me cry. He never said a word. I let myself go and then I told him. I told him why I hated my home and hated my drunk father. I told this complete stranger things I didn’t tell my friends.

And he listened. He didn’t know me either, but he listened. He didn’t have to be nice to me, this girl who cried. He could have told me to leave, but he didn’t.
After it all, he told me, “Baby girl, Grandpa Joe says things are bad now, but they always get better. Just hold on.” I didn’t believe what he said but he filled me with an odd sense of calm. I took that daisy from him and I couldn’t thank him. “Don’t thank me. Just believe baby girl,” he said and smiled again.

I walked and even though I didn’t want to, I believed him. I couldn’t explain what had just happened. I didn’t know why I did why I did what I did. But I would never forget him. My guardian angel, Grandpa Joe, the old man with the flowers......

The perfect coffee 9

So the first thing I did when I got to Chennai was to drink coffee :D I got off the train, met my granddad and was making my way to the auto stand. He asked if I had eaten anything and I said nope. No breakfast. He asked if I wanted coffee and I couldn't really say no could I? ;) So I had my first taste of brilliant Tamilian coffee at the Chennai Central railway station.

The one main thing I'm looking forward to in my stay here in Chennai is the coffee. Because now, I can step into any cafe anywhere and get good coffee. South Indian style :D

So for those dedicated few who still read this space, keep reading. There will be a lot more to come. Stay tuned :D