Great Things

Being cooped up inside, taking my laptop from room to room, trying to find a cozy cool spot, I thought of a memory of having a cup of coffee on the street. It happened once or twice since I don’t go out much, that I found a coffee stall, just a ten rupee tiny cup with sprinkled coco powder. But it was different than the usual cold coffee I have leisurely. For one, the cup was too hot to hold. Being a pro handkerchief carrier, I carefully wrapped it around the cup and blew air over it tons before taking a sip. The first sip would nonetheless burn my tongue. I tend to keep my face stoic lest someone realizes that despite all the cooling, it was still hot for me.

The humdrum of the street begs one to hurry. To hurry and walk off so that another pedestrian may replace the spot. Holding a tiny hot cup of coffee in this humdrum is no easy feat. Even worse, to stay in that same spot stubbornly. Obviously, I am not going to try drink it while moving. Only professionals do that, or people with a cup cap. So I walk a few steps away from the stall, maintaining my distance from the other stall, and most importantly from the group of men around a single motorbike. In the sweltering heat of car fumes, the winter wind cool on my face, I stand my ground and sip. If I manage to remain still, the senseless noise fades away. The faces on the street become a blur. No, it’s not a stroke.

The experience of smoke and dust turns into something great. It is only the bitter taste of coffee, the burnt tip of my tongue and the odd sense of meaning despite the chaotic outside. For those moments, I would yet again face the poisonous smoke that makes my nose hurt, and likely does something worse to my lungs, and the herd that pushes past so they may replace someone else’s spot.

But then again, I could plant a forest and lose myself in the tranquility of wildlife and magic.

Oh and clean air, guys. Clean air.