A rainy winter afternoon at the Indian Coffee House, Delhi.
Life is in a state of melancholy right now. Strolling around the hustling-bustling lanes of Connaught Place, I reached the Mohan Singh Palace building. It’s a chilly winter day today and rain’s drizzling but the day’s moving on, people are moving on. It’s a day of solace, I step in the building, the gate is right adjacent to a cart-vendor selling belts which I think changes every day, the guard welcomes me and I ask him, ‘Where is Indian Coffee House?’ He points to the staircase and says, ‘2nd Floor’. My excitement is real. The first sight goes to the ‘Yahan par na thuke’ sign. I wish people would actually implement it, because I saw the opposite.
I’m on the second floor now, confused as there are two sides to it, and I want a window to myself. Because, life is in a state of melancholy and I’m in a mood to write on a notepad, so fresh that it’ll be the first page. I find my place on the fourth table, on the left. Right in front of my eyes, is PVR’s iconic signboard, but only the R of Rivoli is visible, and now it’s all hidden because of the monkeys. Gopal Bhaiya in his emblematic attire offers a warm greeting ‘Namaste’, puts a glass of water and menu on the table. I quickly asked him, which coffee is the best here, because I’m not a coffee person.
He said special coffee has more cream and hot coffee has more milk. I went ahead with some paneer pakoras and hot coffee. I take out my notepad and start writing. The first word I write is Life and then the words flow. My order is here, I am clicking pictures, flat laying it and making my aesthetic brains work out.
I look to my left, there’s another signboard, ‘sitting idle is a wastage of time’. ‘Is the universe giving signs?’ I ask myself. I am having a nice time until conversations on the other tables turn their volumes up. The chatter, the gossip is distracting me.
I sip the coffee; it is without sugar. I add two spoons of sugar and now I am having a sugar rush. A lot of things are planned for today, but I don’t want to get up. Plate is empty now, the cup is left with a few drops of coffee. Lovers of this place are coming in; It has become more crowded now. I look outside the window; crows are sitting in discipline, in solitude, but together. One flew, others followed. The chatter on the other side was never-ending. I was struggling with my thoughts, I heard their conversations, they were in a state of melancholy too.
Life is in a state of melancholy or is it the day? I leave this thought at Indian Coffee House and walk away, as if I was never there. Someone else will now come and sit on the fourth table on the left, living in a state of melancholy, I guess. Follow me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/manankathuria/ Thank you for being a part of my journey :')