India Coffee House and other stories

I met S after a year, even though we are currently in the same city. We have been friends for many years, dating back to our Mumbai days. Our birthdays are just two days apart and we celebrate either before or after our respective birthdays. Feeling jaded and old, we decided to walk down memory lane. So it was Bheema's for lunch - we opted for our favourite menu -fish tikka and dal makhani and lassi (Had to settle for fresh lime soda instead as lassi was not available). The other dishes continue to be as perfect as we remembered them to be. Then, we met up her friend, T, who has recently given up his Phd studies and is now blissfully teaching on the outskirts of Bangalore.

This meant we needed another place to sit and chat, where we would not be thrown out - haunts like Barista and Cafe Coffee Day would be choked with the Saturday crowd. What better place than India Coffee House, on MG Road? However, today, we hadn't even finished our coffee that the waiters started hovering around, wanting us to leave. No sooner did we gulp the last dregs than we were asked to leave as they had a few customers in queue. Well, just one family, which for some strange reason wanted our table only - perhaps it is because it was beneath the fan. Things sure have changed at India Coffee House, in more ways than one. A brand new LCD screen now shares the walls with old photographs and a grandfather wall clock. It is here that one sees Bangalore, as it really is. A mix of old and new. Customers at the table were a mix of those who were born and brought up in this city and those who strayed here thanks to the IT boom or otherwise, like I and S did.

While we were there, we noticed an old man walk in, nervously clutching his pants - as if he was scared that they would fall, he then shuffled across to a corner table, ordered coffee and began to talk to an imaginary companion opposite him. He spoke for long and passionately, finished his coffee and shuffled off again. I wanted to do something, but didn't know what. I was too scared. Just felt he shouldn't be wandering around alone. Perhaps I could have gone and sat on the seat opposite. Would this have helped? I don't know.

It is easy for me to shrug and say, I didn't do anything because I don't know the local language and had I upset him, I would'nt know how to deal with it. But, perhaps a smile would have soothed him? Perhaps we could have all joined at his table and brought him coffee. Perhaps...

I hope this old man has reached home safely and has a loving family. I can't but help think of him and wonder about the very callousness of humanity (mine included).