Saturday, 5th June 2010.
Two different places. Two different types of coffee.
I first had filter coffee at ID, a restaurant in Sathyam theatre. The coffee costed 30 rupees and was disappointing to say the least. It wasn't hot enough, and wasn't worth the money I paid.
We moved then to City Centre. And Gloria Jean :) Those who have read this space would remember that I've mentioned Gloria Jean before. Well, at this Gloria Jean I decided to try a GJC cold coffee instead of a hot coffee. And it was kinda expensive, but it tastes very good. I sneaked a taste of my friend's hot coffee and it tasted just like I remembered it.
I think I've forgotten to mention the coffee I get at work. Even though it isn't perfect, the fact that they give me coffee whenever I ask for it, even though I'm just an intern, is nice. It helps me get through the boring parts of work :)
Till next time, enjoy your cuppa. :)
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Happy birthday
I remember how we ended up talking. You were on the stairs and I was in the 5th floor corridor and we shot questions at each other. Stupid choices. :)
Panchgani. I was having a minor issue and you madam, just sat in the auditorium with me. Then you went on stage and I broke your glasses. Sorry about that :) But I managed to speak too and you stood there, near my chair, again, without saying a word. But you stayed.
On my birthday, we sat and talked outside college. Just because we wanted to.
We stayed outside French Loaf, talking one evening, for I don't know how long.
I gave you your first taste of cold coffee from CadB place :D I know you are eternally grateful, no need to say it :P
You took time out to see me when I was leaving for Hyderabad. just because I called and said come.
You give me bone crushing hugs :)
You let me rant that day. Made me rant, in fact. And took all of it.
You're an idiot. And I don't know how it happened, but I'm glad it did, that you made a place for yourself in my life.
I don't let people in. But you made me. And I don't regret it.
I love you. And I mean it.
Happy birthday and I get repetitive I know, but words are all I have :)
Guess what's playing in the background as I write this :)
Panchgani. I was having a minor issue and you madam, just sat in the auditorium with me. Then you went on stage and I broke your glasses. Sorry about that :) But I managed to speak too and you stood there, near my chair, again, without saying a word. But you stayed.
On my birthday, we sat and talked outside college. Just because we wanted to.
We stayed outside French Loaf, talking one evening, for I don't know how long.
I gave you your first taste of cold coffee from CadB place :D I know you are eternally grateful, no need to say it :P
You took time out to see me when I was leaving for Hyderabad. just because I called and said come.
You give me bone crushing hugs :)
You let me rant that day. Made me rant, in fact. And took all of it.
You're an idiot. And I don't know how it happened, but I'm glad it did, that you made a place for yourself in my life.
I don't let people in. But you made me. And I don't regret it.
I love you. And I mean it.
Happy birthday and I get repetitive I know, but words are all I have :)
Guess what's playing in the background as I write this :)
Sunday, June 6, 2010
To you
Words are all I have. To give to you. To make you smile.
So this is for you.
For being there when I never expected you to be.
For suddenly materialising out of the shadows. And smiling.
For saying the right things.
For trying.
For helping.
For listening.
For the colours.
For the images.
Thank you.
And these are simple, cliched words.
But that's all I can give you.
So this is for you.
For being there when I never expected you to be.
For suddenly materialising out of the shadows. And smiling.
For saying the right things.
For trying.
For helping.
For listening.
For the colours.
For the images.
Thank you.
And these are simple, cliched words.
But that's all I can give you.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Small things
I started a story. Wrote this. And then decided I didn't like the story. So I scrapped the story and kept this part. Yes. It's true. I am capable of this too :| Sometimes, I surprise myself. It's everything I laugh at, but I write it well, I think.
It is small things you do which make me smile. It is those small interactions that I remember. I doubt constantly whether I matter to you. I doubt constantly whether you care. I ask over and over what difference I make to you because I feel like I don’t matter. But when you put out a hand when we are crossing the road even though you know I can cross by myself, for that second, I don’t doubt. When you hold my hand on those rare occasions, for that minute, I’m happy. When you tickle me and run away, for those few minutes, I laugh. When you get defensive when I make fun of you, for that moment I see that you care what I think of you. When you want to know what happens in my life and you are offended when I don’t tell you, I rethink what we have between us. When you kiss me, for that moment I believe everything is perfect. When you hug me, for that one moment, I am complete. When you seek me out, I feel better. When our hands brush against one other, for that millisecond, I forget what we don’t have. When you want to share your thoughts with me and you seek me out, for that moment, no one else exists. When you give me a high five, for that second, I feel like everything’s as it should be. When you care about me falling sick, for that moment, I believe we can be. When you say you love me, for that moment, I want to believe that it’s true even though it isn’t. When you don’t say anything, for that one moment, even silence seems precious.
It is small things you do which make me smile. It is those small interactions that I remember. I doubt constantly whether I matter to you. I doubt constantly whether you care. I ask over and over what difference I make to you because I feel like I don’t matter. But when you put out a hand when we are crossing the road even though you know I can cross by myself, for that second, I don’t doubt. When you hold my hand on those rare occasions, for that minute, I’m happy. When you tickle me and run away, for those few minutes, I laugh. When you get defensive when I make fun of you, for that moment I see that you care what I think of you. When you want to know what happens in my life and you are offended when I don’t tell you, I rethink what we have between us. When you kiss me, for that moment I believe everything is perfect. When you hug me, for that one moment, I am complete. When you seek me out, I feel better. When our hands brush against one other, for that millisecond, I forget what we don’t have. When you want to share your thoughts with me and you seek me out, for that moment, no one else exists. When you give me a high five, for that second, I feel like everything’s as it should be. When you care about me falling sick, for that moment, I believe we can be. When you say you love me, for that moment, I want to believe that it’s true even though it isn’t. When you don’t say anything, for that one moment, even silence seems precious.
Words
Words are sometimes so inadequate. But they have power.
Words can move mountains and they can break hearts. Words leave wounds that fester and burn. They leave scars that remain for an eternity, deep ones. Words are magic. And words are knives, sharpened to a point. Words have history. They hold secrets. Words are weapons - of love, of pain. Words are a release. They are expression. Words are a cage, chains which bound. Words are a mask to hide the truth. Words ARE the truth.
Words are inadequate. WORDS HAVE POWER.
Words can move mountains and they can break hearts. Words leave wounds that fester and burn. They leave scars that remain for an eternity, deep ones. Words are magic. And words are knives, sharpened to a point. Words have history. They hold secrets. Words are weapons - of love, of pain. Words are a release. They are expression. Words are a cage, chains which bound. Words are a mask to hide the truth. Words ARE the truth.
Words are inadequate. WORDS HAVE POWER.
Is it?
Is it supposed to be so hard?
To push through.
To make sure my mask doesn't slip.
To make sure that it all stays hidden away.
To keep face.
To hold the facade up.
To act my part.
To reconstruct the walls I thought would never break.
To get back what I lost.
To put the pieces back together.
To find all those pieces.
To lock up my thoughts in a box again, and hide the key that I vowed never to give to anyone, but did.
To keep my smile.
To watch someone else enjoy what was once mine.
To lose graciously.
To find, to fix.
Is it supposed to be so hard?
TO LOVE.
To push through.
To make sure my mask doesn't slip.
To make sure that it all stays hidden away.
To keep face.
To hold the facade up.
To act my part.
To reconstruct the walls I thought would never break.
To get back what I lost.
To put the pieces back together.
To find all those pieces.
To lock up my thoughts in a box again, and hide the key that I vowed never to give to anyone, but did.
To keep my smile.
To watch someone else enjoy what was once mine.
To lose graciously.
To find, to fix.
Is it supposed to be so hard?
TO LOVE.
Monday, May 31, 2010
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 :)
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 :)
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