A day at Coffee Day...

The day was nothing unexpected, was sweltering hot (which made me think of Govinda’s fake smile for the “Navrathna cool talc”), with lackluster lectures and a determined pulse to bunk. Yeah, you are Right. There was no exception to this day. Every promising hangout near by, ranging from loafers’ street to Sigma mall had been scrupulously explored and exploited, but wait! One thing that was left behind was something that stood in the place of the ex. “Just Bakes”. A pristine, flashy Café Coffee Day!

This one was just a month old or so, and it just sprang out of the blue during the vacations. It looked like how a typical Coffee Day should, brilliant with a lotta red and lilac, fluorescent bulbs and waiters dressed in red and black. After a careful check with the class rep (just to see if it was okay to run outta class.) I ran outta the gate tagged by a bunch of my buds. It took me precisely 7 minutes to get there (Although its right across the street – The traffic can be massively gruesome at that time of the day.)

As we entered we saw a lotta heads turning and eyes sporadic (The kind which READS – “Oh Carmelite aaaa?? Bunking aaaa??” *Sigh* Never mind!) Some hid behind their menu cards with guys across their table and some others were merely staring into vacuum (Like they hadn’t realized that some calculus, accountancy or history might be happening in their class room, well… much outside their head.) Most of them, as predicted were college goers (I could guess by their bags and dingy looks, not to forget a lot of lip gloss and a combination of all the “Axe” flavors.)… I could hardly see people who had something called jobs. (I guessed it wasn’t their coffee break as yet.) The rest of the seats were partly empty.

There are 2 floors, one air conditioned and the other open space. Hmmm. Where do we go now? (Govinda smiles again…) I know, I know… The air condition it is!

There aren’t really those comfy couches and cushions here like there are in the other places… It’s just the chairs. The waiters seemed to have sized us up enough even before we took a seat. One thing I’ve noticed about these places is that the waiters give you 3 kinds of looks. 1) “Hello boss! What’s it gonna be today? The usual Café latte?!” 2) Don’t tell me the LOT of you have come here to get a single miserable brownie!! 3) Aaah! Well, let’s see… looks new! I don’t really know which one we came under, certainly not the 1^st.. May be the 3^rd! (Or so I hoped) The menu was no different. We hardly even looked at it. It was always common to order a sizzling brownie or mochachillos each. We did.

The music went on and on. The Desi beats played for almost like 40 minutes with a lot of repetitions and then came the English pop and hip hop and all those remixes. (My! We were so glad to be there, instead of being in the midst of a not so interesting topic back in class). On the other days the LCDs aren’t really switched on and Shakira or the other artists aren’t singing into your ears interrupting a study session or a serious date!

I thought I’d catch up with someone interesting, looking like a junkie, this girl with a tattoo, colorful streaked hair, piercing s that someone could be jealous about and well, “attitude” was spelled on her face. She was sitting alone and staring at the wall opposite her. My friends nudged me. They said “dare you man… dare you!” (And I found my self saying in my head “Damn you man… damn you!”)

I got up from my seat a little too ostentatiously; I could already hear the applause and the embarrassment dawn upon me. I said a quick excuse me and took a seat by her, introducing myself in the process. I also asked her if I could be asking her some questions. She plainly nodded giving me the look that said “Earth is full, go home!” kinds… And well, I sighed. It was my stipulation, not hers anyway!

I asked her, “What do you think about this place?”

“Lame” was her answer. I certainly thought she was mental.

“What do you think of the ambience?”

“It’s too red. It should have been black. Like gothic you know?”

“Have you ever been to the other CCDs?”

“I’m not interested in seeing people snogging behind a menu card and over a cup of coffee. Duh!”

“Then why are you here, now?”

“To replay in my head, how my God forsaken boyfriend ditched me right at this spot. He was sitting where you are right now.”

“Umm. I’m so sorry to hear that! May be I should get going now. Nice talking to you! Good day!”

“No. No. Wait! I haven’t spoken to anyone in like a week. Wait.”

My estimation about her was already a close rating of a pyromaniac. I gave a gauche smile and just rushed. By then my friends had already checked out the rest room and had a great opinion about it! Flashy, they said.

Well, what can I say, it’s not only the tag line of “A lot can happen over coffee”, It’s also that “coffee isn’t my cup of tea!” There are loads of ‘other’ things that could interest you out there! Darn! I stole Samuel Goldwyn’s line AND my best bud’s. Are they listening?

The wilderness of adventure

It had been ages since it had happened to me last – The familiar rush of adrenalin, the lined drops of perspiration, the same intense feeling and the inner voice quietly cooing “Oh my god! Not again” with an accompanied punch in the gut.

It was time for the family’s annual trip. The usual reaction I get from most people when I say that is… “Great man! Wonderful, isn’t it? There’s going to be a whole family, laughing and having fun, clicking and posing away for pictures that will all soon be edited and uploaded on the social networking sites… Aaah! Bliss.”

But, think again. This is all but that. It was more of an annual dread.

Our grandfather was 75 and he looked young and what more? He pretended that way too. *sigh*. He was the one responsible for the dread and because of this; he soon became popular as ‘Hitler’.

I was known to repeat the same lines every December – “Oh God! Can’t I fall sick? Can’t I sprain my ankle? Can nothing possess me, but for this feeling of dread for LIFE!?” I was totally sick of this maneuver.

Let’s rewind back… Zoooi... zoooi.. zoooi.. *Flash back*...

It all started when I was 9 years of age, A little kid, as innocent and pink as the tulips. I was particularly excited about this trip, but my other siblings looked down upon me like I just said and felt something out of this galaxy! I soon began to understand why…

Being woken up at 4 am on a chilly December morning is not really a good idea, strangely not even close to having a lovely start for the most awaited trip. Pulling up our jerseys and hiking boots we set out, but the disheveled hair and sleepy eyes tell one how much it was a pain in the medulla oblongata. My grandfather always had this line in his pocket, “No borrowing, no begging… And of course, no stealing.” So we were all required to have our own travel gear and not keep screaming “You can do it’s, while on an adventure sport.

The camping is a lot more dreadful. Damp earth, the smell of the previous nights burnt barbeque, the mosquitoes humming to glory in your ears, creepy crawlies seduced with your blood, snakes slithering away like you were just the branch of a tree… and a whole lot of other “yeww…” I wish I could really use smiley like on the IMs, It would have definitely been a lot easier to express.

All of us had a bagful of phobias when we started off. Fear of plunging into teeth - clattering water, heights, slipping away into nothingness, reptiles, swinging in mid air… My oh my! And at the end of it all gratefulness is all that is felt for that great man.

I still remember the time I was knocked off a little boat (Of course with a life jacket! Duh!) Into waters filled with tiny Indian alligators, toads, slimy algae and what not! I obviously did not know how to swim, I flapped my arms like a duck withering its wings in water couldn’t breathe and then I did learn… I can’t say with great confidence that I can river raft, but I’d sure say “Why not? Sounds like fun!” instead of the “that sounds like something to do with water! No ways dude!” Now, if I get thrown into the Pacific, I can still find my way and beat Columbus in his navigational capabilities!

On one of these trips, I was expected to paraglide on the Calangute beach, Goa. With smirking faces, frowns from macho men and skimpily clad women, thumbs ups from my cousins, I did try. I suddenly realized I was hanging on to a rod like thing with a parachute fluttering high above me, and I was over the aqua blue waters, A scary experience but a beautiful thing to do, at least ONCE in a life time.

I still have the fear of slipping away on the slopes, on some hiking adventure. But my cousins often tease me, “With the best Adidas gear, impossible is nothing!” The trip next scheduled is to the Grand Canyon. Obviously we won’t be hiking on it!!! (Or at least, I hope not.) Impossible is nothing for Adidas and with my Grand father! Let’s just hope I’m alive and breathing until my next adventure, and hopefully even after that, and I don’t die of a nervous break down or something!