Visiting a coffee shop regularly has its reasons. It could be the music that they play. It could be the coffee that they serve. It could be the sights and sounds of the place. It could simply be the people around you…or it could be because of that brown-eyed guy who you start searching for moments after you take your favorite seat.
What is it that attracts one towards a place over and over again in spite of the variety of choices that are up for the grabs? What is it that makes it a habit in a person?
For me the intricacies of this habit, good or bad are hard to delineate…
Unlike most of my peer group I don’t like lazing around at home after a hard day’s toil, when given an option to gallivant around on the streets. This trait probably has to do a lot with my genes rather than pressure from my peers.
And in spite of my self-proclaimed attention deficit syndrome (ADS); I still like to wind up my day with a hot mug in my hand sitting on my usual seat. Smoking my preferred brand, looking into oblivion or simply cackling about inane things with my dearest friends, all the while surrounded by faces I have come to know over time!
The coffee shop in my neighborhood is certainly not one of its kinds, but despite the commonness I have come to love the place dearly each passing day for the five years that I have spent in this city.
It’s a pleasant feeling to walk into a place, where even though you have never spoken to any of the visages that you see recurrently, you can’t help but start looking for them as soon as you sit down.
I look around…
I see the short guy sitting in the corner as always, hunched over his laptop, with an Ipod in one hand and a smoke in the other. I have secretly named him “Mr. Dependable” for in spite of this short stature, there’s hardly a day when you will not feel his presence around you. He is always thronged with people around him, no matter what time of the day it is. I wonder if he ever eats or goes to work. For he never leaves that chair except to order another cup of caffeine.
Not further down him I see the weird old man, who never fails to come in regularly. Each day he sits there all by himself, reading a fat book or reading the paper for hours together. Wearing the same worn out tee-shirt and jeans and smiling at nothing in particular, he never fails to drink his four cups of coffee a day. I wonder what he does to earn a living.
A holler draws my eyes to a group not very far from where I sit; it is a group of young men huddled together. They look a little old for college students, perhaps working men taking a break after office hours. You can’t miss them in the evenings, each with his own smoke in his hand puffing away in a limbo. They are the ones who crack the loud jokes, whose laughter’s can be heard across the whole place, who will turn to look shamelessly at every woman who walks in, discussing politics or music, well just about anything under the sun. Surprisingly, you can’t simply help but smile at this eclectic bunch for their sheer idleness that connects each of them together.
The couple that always takes the shadowed corner, away from the eyes of the prying world. A demure looking girl in a simple salwar kameez, hand in hand with a run-off the mill cool dude in low slung jeans and a tee shirt which desperately needs to be ironed. While they sit there gazing into each others eyes with wonder lust and murmur in low voices, I cannot help myself from being judgmental and wonder how long would this last. As I begin to move ahead in my sour Jon, I suddenly see the girl pulling the guy forward and smacking his lips right on! The PDA leaves me baffled and to borrow a phrase “looks can be deceptive”!
A see a group of foreigners, plugged into their snazzy Ipods and their hands running sluggishly on their IMac speaking in their outlandish accents oblivious to the natives around them who candidly gape at them.
Two tables down sitting by themselves are two flimsily clad beautiful women, probably heading for a party or coming back from one. They sit there sipping their smoothies and intently discussing about lipsticks and glosses!
In the midst of the assorted assemblage are the jovial baristas in their bright orange uniforms making a living by serving coffee assiduously. This crew of dexterous men and women constantly strive to be on their best demeanor day in and day out catering to the demands of all their privileged patrons.
As I sit there contemplating to have another cup of coffee, I see a group of five entering; they definitely look like college students, chattering away with each other. They come and sit at the table next to mine. It’s motley bunch. There’s the “in-love” couple sitting side by side, surreptitiously exchanging glances, there’s the bored looking dude who looks doped up, there’s the shaggy haired singer who hums to the tunes that he deftly plays on the guitar. The man next to him smartly dressed in white and blue denims insists on wearing this Ray Bans despite no Sun in the horizon. They lounge around with a carefree bearing about them. Soaking in the evening air and company of each other. A while later a moderately handsome looking man joins them, he looks a little older to be in college but blends into the crowd as soon as he takes his seat.
The mood becomes upbeat, the clanging of the mugs, hi-fives and resounding laughter signal a celebration of its own kind.
The evening wears out…the ones who have other social engagements leave. The ones who are left sit there drinking the last dregs of the day.
The lights are dimmed, the shutters half closed. The last few trudge out slowly heading back to their own beds.
As I walk back to the confines of my aboard, I think of the people I have come to anticipate about. Like, the very cute brown-eyed gentleman in his shorts, the good looking bearded chap who has reappeared after long vacation, the short guy with the laptop, the wanna-be photographer. I wonder will I get to catch a glimpse of them again the next day, will I ever get to speak to them before I make my exit from the city, will they notice if I don’t turn up the again.
As all the questions whirl around in my mind I realize I have reached home. I impassively try to push all my thoughts away, at the same time fervently desiring that these people knew the significant parts they play in my thoughts.
That’s when I call it a DAY!
