This is just one of those shitty posts you feel like posting
cause some random thought came to your mind. There is nothing noteworthy about
this post, nor is it going to affect anyone’s life in any small way. It is just
going to stay as some random collection of words for eternity hereon (or
atleast until Blogspot keeps hosting this). If at all we were to be ever
invaded by some other living/non-living form, and one of their researchers lays
its hands on this piece of garbage, then it might get stumped at first sight at
the randomness or the sheer nonsense of thoughts being put into writ. But then
again, it may just think of this as the missing piece of some stupid puzzle
they think humans are, and might go after deciphering it for years to come, during
which they put all their resources into just trying to understand the context
or situation under which a human might be provoked into writing such an
article. During this time, they might end up neglecting all other tasks or ways
in which they could have progressed and hence they might fall behind in the
race to make it to the top of the food/power pyramid. Eventually, the small
settlement of humans who had evaded captivity might catch up and destroy/vanquish
these life forms and thus get the power back. Some human might then go about
into looking for clues as to why the life forms gave up progress and ended up
losing to a small group of humans whom they should have easily defeated, and in
his/her quest to find the real answer, might end up with this article as the
missing piece of the puzzle which so might be boggling them at that time. So a
not so great/ utter rubbish article might suddenly end up taking a whole lot of
importance in the years to come and thus will one day end up on a handmade
paper with black calligraphic ink inside a frame made of solid gold sitting
proudly on top of the tower depicting victory of humans over other life forms.
Such is the deep philosophy with which the text you might end up reading is written.
So yes, coming back to the statement the heading makes, a
good coffee and a bad coffee. Do you ever feel like you have a good coffee and
a bad coffee day? I have always enjoyed coffee as something of a sinful
experience with lots of sugar and whipped cream and chocolate sauce and cream
rather than the “eye-opener” people view it as. For me, coffee has always been
a way to laze around, relax, enjoy at the end of the day. Since I started
working however, I have realized that the primary purpose of coffee is exactly
the opposite. It is supposed to be everything other than a concoction of gustatory
indulgence. It is supposed to be this bitter, strong, hot, non-creamy watery
piece of brown water which wakes you up even if you are half asleep and puts
you into turbo/overdrive mode. It acts like these toothpicks which keep your
eyelids open and don’t allow you to sleep and with every sip you take, it sends
a shock-wave down your spine which makes you shiver as if you are expelling the
last fluid dram of renal waste. It is supposed to be an experience which takes
all your pain and anguish and boredom away from you since now all you think and
care about is the coffee which you have to keep gulping to bury the taste of
the last gulp you took.
Hence, when I took the first cup of coffee, I was blown away
in disbelief with the kind of liquid people make themselves go through with
just to keep awake. A better, and a more tried and tested way to keep awake is
to sleep better and to wake up to nice and happy and blue sky day. But then,
that is not always possible, and hence we come to the good coffee part.
So yes, when I was exposed to this cup of coffee, my faith
in coffee totally decimated, since for about two days, I couldn't get myself
around the horrible taste to which I was put to trial. When much fluoride toothpaste
was used, and a lot of gum was chewed, and when my tongue no longer could feel
the burn on its edges, I was willing to wade into the coffee waters again. This
time though, I was going with my own weapons. Sugar, cream and lots of sugar
and cream. And yes, cream and sugar! When there was just the that’s-its-perfect-level
of coffee which I wanted, I sat down, and took one sip, and for about 1 minute,
was spellbound with wonder. The taste left me in a place which hasn't been
christened as yet for absence of words which portray the beauty of the land. For
about 30 minutes from then on, I was on such high spirits, nothing could bring
me down. And then, just as it was there, it was gone. The cup was totally empty
and no optimist or pessimist could say otherwise. Everyone was brought back to
level earth and I was there, waiting for it to be 3 O clock when I could fill
myself another cup.
Come 3 O clock and I promptly got up and went to the thermos
that was just recently filled with freshly brewed hot coffee. It had a nice
post-it with a label saying “I fell”, something which might confuse the virgin,
but to the expert eye, it quickly said that it was the French Roast. It proudly
sat next to another thermos with a similar looking post-it saying “It took
years and years to build this one”, which again was quickly reduced to Italian
Roast to the trained eye. I promptly went ahead, filled my cup with a “Ho-Ho-Ho”
(Christmas blend, just in case you missed this one), looking around with an air
of arrogance towards those who in my mind hadn't quite deciphered the true
meaning and taste of coffee and sighing loudly in sympathy towards the
ignorant. I then proceeded to add my dash and dots of sugar and cream, whipped
out a stirrer from amongst the bunch of other stirrers and plopped it into the
white and black drink and stirred till I saw the familiar coffee color. With an
aroma that tingled my nostrils, I hopped back to my desk and sat down whilst taking in the first sip. As the liquid touched my tongue, there arose an
opportune moment to tell one of the most interesting stories of all times…
Come one night, and a guy walked in, let's call him Rahul. (The suspicion multiplies). He sat there with a drink in his hand, spellbound by the song which fell on his ears. He had listened to and sung many renditions of the same song, but none of them had touched his heart the way this one did. He listened to it in complete blank out mode for while it lasted, and then walked up to the singer. He asked her to leave all her current contracts with the night clubs and the bars, and to walk into a recording studio to make her very own album. She couldn't believe what she had heard, and was shy and wary at first, but as she gave in, she tasted blood and that was the point where she herself started dreaming of making it big with her own successful album.
Up until this point, her position was just like mine, where she had everything built up, and she was about to taste the coffee.
But then something happened. Rahul never called her to audition, never answered her calls back, never ever replied to the texts. Days went by, days turned to months and months almost 3 months, and still there was no reply. (Wait, I have already heard of this story somewhere!). She had left her only source of income for this, and hence her saving were taking a hit big big time. She cried and cried but to no avail. Life had been a bitch, by showing her a ray of hope but quickly covering it back with a cloud of disbelief and unfaithfulness. (Are you even listening to me? I am just crying out here).
And just as shattered and devastated as she remained, a similar feeling
dawned over me. I was taken back once again to the place where nothing is good
and happy and there is nothing but disgust which fills you. Whatever castles of
gold I had made up in my mind came crashing down like a house of cards. The
whole 3 hours thereon were spent in trying to understand just what went wrong.
The coffee was correct, the sugar the cream were present, the temperature was
just right, the cup was the same, the stirrer was the same material. The
ambient temperature and humidity was maintained and taken care of by the air
conditioner. So what was it that changed?
The next day arrived, and I was careful in making the
morning coffee, and to my luck, it took my back to the land of the blessed,
where days are warmer and longer, and flowers and trees bloom all around the
year, the air has this sweet scent and the animals roam freely and live
cohesively. But the evening spelt disaster once again. The storms shattered
another coffee build up, and the lightning kept cracking till the next day
arrived.
Days have come and gone, and on some days I thought I
was so close to the correct recipe for the perfect cup. But just when I started
to think that I had it, some evening coffee or some morning brew killed it. I
have tried different blends, different brews, different roasts, changed the
sugar and cream proportions, heated and reheated but to no avail. A given cup
of coffee just cannot be judged till it is actually sipped, and no matter how
perfect you are in your lead up to it, if it is not going to be, it won’t be.
A coffee is a coffee, it should always be the same. But my
thoughts on this form changing, taste blending unfaithful bean are just
becoming more and more random and weird and deep, like that of a jilted lover
who was shown the world of happiness and suddenly had everything snatched away
from him. Coffee is just the same but so much different.. Coffee is… Well, its
coffee..
