The Ringside View

My attempts at writing have always been stacked up in old diaries and scraps of yellowing paper.Time,neglect and phylum insecta however, always ensured that the gibberish i scrawled, never would see the prying gaze of an alien eye.Years later, i still scribble once in a while - this time in word documents stored in some obscure folder somewhere in the innards of my C drive.I am unearthing some of them and opening them up for the interested.To get what i call - The Ringside view.

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Location: Bangalore, Karnataka, India

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Tea, Coffee and skewed analogies

It’s raining cats and dogs. Rainfall at this time of the year is pretty unusual. Or is it? If I can vaguely remember those geography classes back at school I think the North-Westerlies do bring rain round about this time. Anyway, like it matters. All that I care for at the moment is my glass of lemon tea.

I stare out of the window. It looks like the clouds are orchestrating their next act. People scurrying about in search of shelter. Umbrellas, raincoats, jackets. Newspapers double-timing as makeshift caps. Puddles, pebbles, broken roads. Honking cars, more rain and John Denver (for some unknown reason) playing country roads….take me home in some corner of my mind.

I shift me gaze to the lemon tea which has been duly placed on my table. There is a single lemon seed floating about, trying to settle down to the abysmal depths of the glass. But every time I stirred, it would bob up and struggle. Life’s like that I think. Running around in vicious circles searching for god knows what. What a skewed analogy – life’s like a lemon seed. It’s still raining. I think I need another tea.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Its forty bucks for hardly a full glass of cold coffee. But then, they promise a lot can happen over it. I wonder what. ‘Would you like chocolate sauce and whipped cream on your coffee, sir’ the barista fondly asks. I wait for him to finish and deliver. ‘I’d like mine straight. No add-ons please’. I love this part of it. Makes me feel like James Bond or something. Actually, I really wouldn’t mind the whipped cream or chocolate sauce or what have you if it were not for the extra bucks. I give a fictitious name at the counter and settle into one of those comfy chairs.

The donuts in the glass case look inviting. ‘With or without chocolate sauce, sir’, he might ask again. It’s the same with life too, isn’t it? You can either live it straight or with add-ons. I prefer living it straight, like James Bond. The coffee gets delivered on my table with bill boasts of tax enough to pay me neighbor’s latte. I take a swig and it’s bitter. Someone at the counter buying a donut with chocolate sauce. God bless.


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