Why oh why????

Espresso: “Say, why are you not posting anything in 'Over a Cuppa' ???”

Latte: “Er..Hmm..I can’t think of any good topics...”

Espresso: “What??? A person who goes blah blah blah non-stop can’t think of a topic??? Shame on you, Latte...Shame on you!!!”

Sigh.....These inspiring words sparked that thing called inspiration and here I am blogging about er..hmm..well nothing in particular :-D
Wait a minute! Here is something you might like.. Something that has happened a number of times over a cuppa...

Espresso: "[Sigh]..This tea tastes horrible..”

KK: {Tastes the tea and makes strange sounds}

Latte: {Sips and grimaces} "Yea, Why is it so sweet?? Why??"

Espresso: "Also no snacks today.. Atleast that could have made it easier to drink this thing...Why aren't there any snacks??"

Latte: {Gulps down tea and puts down the cup looking joyful (having finished the job) and miserable at the same time}

Cappuccino: {Looks at the three girls in turn} "Why do you drink it then?? Why??" {She does not drink tea, BTW}

Espresso: "Because it is a habit... And we get the chance to reflect on how bad tea could taste and count our blessings when we get to drink good tea..

KK: Yes, that is so true...

Latte: [Sigh]

Cappuccino: {Shakes her head disapprovingly and sips her glass of water}

To be continued.... (Too many 'sighs' and 'why's in this post?? That is life people....that is life...)

LATTE

Those were the days...

"Those were the days my friend
I wish they'd never end..."

Hmmm... our hot discussions almost always begin with the most innocent comments from any of the crazy 4 members. And unwind into the good, bad, ugly, hilarious, (and what not!) subjects - Reminiscence of our yesteryears, as we recount them with all the excitement left over, after tea that rather tastes like sweet milk flavoured with tea!

Back then, in nineteen hundred and something....I begin. And I hear giggle...there she goes again, they say! Hey, I'm keeping you amused guys. Isn't that something? Trying to be insane, to keep my sanity.

What I started out to be, and what's become of me. I've always had this urge to do something different. But what I've been doing for dog years now, is pretty much routine. Work-home and nothing else in between!

Anyways, I'm not complaining. Bcoz, I do have an easy life. A family that understands me and lets me be who I am, a job that's not too hard, team-mates who are as crazy as I am, blah-blah!

But, I'd like to believe that I'm made of better stuff. I could have been there, done that. Things that I did not want, I ended up doing or being. For eg. I never wanted to settle down in Kerala, but here I am. I never wanted to marry a typical mallu boy 'born-and-brought-up-in-Kerala' (afraid that he would turn out to be another male chauvinist), but ended up marrying one (luckily he isn't the chauvinistic kind). I never wanted to get into an IT Company (I prefer working in an ad agency), but I've been working in one for almost 5 years now (though what I'm doing is still the creative side of it)....And the list of 'I never wanted to..., but ended up doing!' is aplenty.

Still, I'm not complaining. B'coz life could have been harsher. I'm just glad it isn't. And I'm thanking my lucky stars and the good Lord above that I've got a great family, a decent job, a fine home and plenty of friends, when so many of them don't have any!

OK. now somebody tell me how the f*** am I gonna wrap up this blog. One thing leads to another. And I just can't stop, as always. Help!

Yours truly,
Espresso

Time & tide waits for none

And now Expresso beat me to it. Recession management guru was what I desired to be. But she took away the honours. Anyways, I feel a little elevated today and would wish to share an anecdote which helps you just count your blessings and forget recession or whatever.

It was the May of 1985. Dad bought the first car of his life , old rugged 1962 model ambassador. He used to work in central India then. And he bought the car from a doc in Kerala. He had this adventurous idea of driving it all the way up to Bhilai where we lived from Thrissur, covering more than 2000kms. So we got ourselves a mechanic and started off.

Summer in the Deccan is not one of the most pleasant regions to travel in a non Ac car. But there we we were, driving through little villages with a trail of amused children and dust. We tasted all kinds of cuisines on the way from wayside little hotels and somewhat better restaurants. It was fun.

Well, we reached Hyderabad around 2 AM. And the town was asleep. We were new to the city and we did not how to get to the main road to the better hotels. We tried one or two, but they were kind of unwilling to take in late visitors and said"No rooms available". so we finally ended up in an old house converted into a hotel. It had one big squarish inner courtyard, around which the rooms were set. That night was horrible. The room was full of gigantic mosquitoes who made sure that we did not sleep a wink.

The next day we started off in search of a better hotel and found one. And we saw the Golconda fort and the Sala-e- jung museum. Drive to Bhilai from there took another two days. By the time we reached Bhilai, the driver had Chicken pox and I had fever.

The fever I had was peculiar. I ran high temperatures every alternate day and only at night. After about three cycles , I was hallucinating, seeing peacocks from my window, Amitabh Bachchan dancing by the bedside and so on... Soon, I ended up in the hospital in a double room where the other bed was occupied by a woman. I drifted off to sleep with IVs injecting medicines into me. I regained complete consciouness only by late afternoon. I had opened my eyes earlier and seen my mother talking with the woman on the bed. Now, she told me that her name was Kamala and that she had kidney failure.
" How are feeling now?", Kamala asked
" Better", I managed.
" Oh! It's nothing. I have dialysis twice a month but Iam OK".

I smiled. Mom took over the conversation part.
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the adjoining room. A girl my age was being given Oxygen. I saw her some moments ago as she peeked into my room from the small corridor that joined the rooms. She was a beautiful girl. And when mom said that she being given oxygen, I did not believe it. She had a cardiac problem.

Next day, Kamala had a visitor. Her husband, a trucking businessman had come over. They spoke in hushed tones. He was crying and she was trying to comfort him. And when he left, she told us that he would return the next with the kids. She showed some photos of the kids - a three year daughter and a five year old son.

"Cute children, are'nt they?", asked Kamala.
" And who is this?", mom asked
"That's me. I looked beautiful then. It is at a wedding."
Tears welled up in her eyes. She was lost in thought.

Later she told mom that her treatment costs were getting out of hand and that her husband was the youngest brother and he could no more take money from the family business to treat her. But she held nothing against her in -laws. She believed in God and fate.

Next day, Kamala was up early, all dressed to see the kids. Soon, we heard chattering voices in the passage. The kids were here. They came and leapt at Kamala in joy.

"Come home", they said.

I was a witness to the poignant moment. Her husband and her eyes were happy and sad at the same time. The husband had brought some food. She fed the children with her hands. The elder was telling her about school, the younger one about her cousins. It was the first time I realised, the value of life.

That evening, she was mum, unlike her chattering self. By night, she said that she asked her husband not to show her body to the kids. She wants them to remember her as an active mother.

I got discharged the next day. Later we came to know, she was soon paralysed and her systems shut down one after other and she died. She was cremated nearby and not taken home as per her wishes.

This story I wanted to narrate for long. Destiny was that it came out now.

katten kaapi

Brother, can you spare me a dime?

The topic over a cuppa today was "begging". And to think it all started with "chai-chai"! As always, Katten started it. And then, there was just no stopping us.

We spoke about train journeys, eunuchs, beggars...phew! There was a report in the papers today about a beggar who had about INR13 lakhs in savings...and we almost considered begging as a serious profession.

Well, the way we're headed, the recession and everything that came with it, it might not be too long when we'll have to dust our guitars, pull a string and set out with a begging bowl. Would you spare me a dime, then?

Yours truly,
Espresso

Remember the time

Who can ever forget the “timeless” hit number of Michael Jackson, the King of Pop! I grew up listening to his songs. My friends & I have even performed MJ’s popular hits at school & college. It is so unfortunate that he died all so suddenly. Just as mysteriously as he lived his life!

It’s surprising he could keep his personal life under wraps. You know, him being a global pop icon and all! The magic he worked on screen and on stage - his moon walk, his high-voltage and high-energy performances…it’s no surprise that he emerged an icon within a short span. And to imagine, he’s not around anymore!

But he’s left behind a legacy in music. I stand up and salute him, for that. Let’s trash the tittle-tattle (true or untrue, nobody knows for sure!) that did the rounds during his lifetime and even after his death (they won’t even let him R.I.P), and celebrate or rather continue to enjoy his music.

Thriller, Bad, Beat-it, Dangerous, Black or White…. Heal the World.

This column is dedicated to Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. I’ve been wanting to write this ever since he died, but never been able to, until now. Better late than never. And a time never to forget!

Yours truly,
Espresso

Names and Namesakes

Now that we have revealed our profiles we have to let you know how we came to be known as Espresso, Katten Kaapi, Latte and Cappuccino….Here is the story (reasons rather) behind our names and alias’s.

Espresso a.k.a Rhino

Of the several meanings the word (Coffee as well) espresso has, espresso conveys the sense of ‘just for you’ and ‘quickly’ which can be related to the process of its preparation. So, our dear Espresso is called so, because whatever she does is especially for ‘us’; her team mates; and she is quick and witty. And espresso is strong. So is this one. And that’s why she is also known as ‘Rhino’ – the thick-skinned, bold lady…And yes, espresso is also the base for all other coffee drinks…latte, cappuchino or even katten kaapi…Though technically, I must be saying none of us exist without her…it is actually ‘None of us exist without the other’....

Katten Kaapi a.k.a Wild Horse

The desi, malayalee version of black coffee, ‘katten kaapi’ is not everyone’s cup of …er…coffee. It can be made quick and one swig of the hot, black liquid is so refreshing that it can even bring back a corpse to life (well…somewhat…the small doses of katten kaapi at work, are what bring us alive!) So Miss Katten Kaapi, is just what black coffee is – refreshing and different. Her creativity knows no bounds and it all comes in a matter of seconds. As for her other name, ‘Wild Horse’, she is called so because she is wild and whacky, happy-go-lucky and fun-to-be-with. She does not gallop around like a horse, but her creativity sure does…

Latte a.k.a Wet Chick

The Italian word for milk, latte is a coffee that has more milk than cappuccino and is milder in taste. Copy Writer Latte is also a very mild person – gentle, kind, soft and serene. Like latte coffee which can be topped with creativity as in this image, our dear Latte a.k.a. Wet Chick also tops everything with creativity. Good at designing and conceptualizing, the credit for the design and construction of this blog goes to her. As for her other name – Wet Chick, she is this beautiful damsel in distress who frets over a small pimple, not because she’s worried about how she looks, but because she suspects it to be some major skin disease. She sneezes and she looks frazzled. I ask her, “what now?” She replies looking frazzled still, “Could this be swine flu?”

Cappuccino a.k.a. Hot chick in cold water

Cappuccino a strong coffee with frothy cream, topped with a pinch of powdered chocolate, has froth on top which resembles the hood worn by the Capuchin Monks. Well, I am no monk. Not in the least bit. Then why am I called so? Well, the froth that forms on top of Cappuccino Coffee helps retain the heat. And that is I what I do at our discussions over a cuppa copy! I keep the discussions going, keeping them heated and exciting all through (I know this is the heights of blowing my own trumpet…but I can’t help saying the truth!) I contribute and share my crazy dreams and ideas, keeping the chat hot as ever. As for my other name, I am as wet as ‘wet chick’ (you see, I am in cold water too) only thing is, I like to believe that I am hot. And when no one thinks so, it always helps to pretend. ;)

God! That was one lengthy prose. And my description is the longest. Unlike Latte, I seem to be full of myself…Anyway, now you know that our names were not decided just for the heck of it. Not because we wanted something ‘coffee-coffee’ type but because it’s who we are - Crazy, whacky, mad, nutty…add as many synonyms as you like. At the end of it, all geniuses are a little eccentric…

-Cappuccino

The party illusion

The day dawned with hopes of a afternoon party. Cappucino was throwing one after a long wait. She had topped the exams, you recall. The expectation started to climb after the lunch hour. The clock hands moved wearily on. Time seemed to be still and everyone engrossed in work. As lunch was planned with space for high tea, attention on work was becoming difficult. Eyes could not focus. The head wheeled. Still, the hope and grit that the party is soon to be held me together. By five, patience packed its bags and left for a world tour. An outburst, why don't you guys just enjoy a party when one is offered shook the zombies off the chairs. Glassy eyed workaholics looked at me vacantly. Slowly they started to get up ...Now the Indian Monsoon had different plans. Downpour. And here a down por of woes. None can walk to the neighbourhood cafe in the rains. Can't understand them. Well, the illusion continues till time. I'm still hoping for a high tea. Silent prayers to the rain gods to hold for a bit are on the lips.

-Katten Kaapi