Galaxies in my Coffee .

I think it all started with The Coffee Bean and the Tea Leaf.
You see, in a middle-class Indian family, tea is customary but coffee is a luxury. For me, it started out as a part of an extensive airport ritual. I’ve always been mesmerized by airports, they have a way of making commoners feel important. Important enough to make us buy overpriced, fancy coffee. Our ‘ritual’ involved grabbing Lattès with my father at The Coffee Bean and the Tea Leaf, followed by a visit to the bookstore. There were moments when I’d pause sometimes, mostly while in the store – with a book in one hand and a cup of coffee blowing steam onto my glasses in the other. I’d look over to the Buisness aisle, watch Dad reading a magazine and wonder if any other state of time could ever be this pure.
For someone so caffeine-driven, it’s a shame to admit that I never really learned how to brew a cup myself until I moved into a hostel. There are times, rare early mornings, when while fixing my coffee, I flashback to the last time I had a cup back home. It was the day before I left for college, my last evening in the city I had called home for the last fifteen years. I sat down with two of my best friends, all three of us sipping from our mugs. We just sat there in the quiet and watched the sunset paint the sky golden, then lilac. And then, suddenly, all the colours faded to grey.
I guess that’s it’s best perk after all. Apart from keeping me up all night to cram notes for the End Semester, and being a comfort after I’m drenched in the pouring rain.
I can always make myself a cup, close my eyes, and pretend that I’m back on that rooftop with my friends, under a golden sky, watching the city fade away.
Or at the airport, with my Dad.
That’s all it takes to feel like coming home.

2 thoughts on “Galaxies in my Coffee .

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