crazy caffeine

It’s brown. It’s strong. It’s creamy. And interesting company and stimulating conversation increases its potency! Million dollar question is…what on the beautiful earth (currently suffering from global warming and pollution) am I talking about? To the ones who have guessed…congratulations. To the ones who haven’t…I will just tell you. I am talking of coffee! Bitter…brown…brilliant…beverage…that’s coffee for you.

I am supposed to work on a campaign for Coffee Board in India. And all the research has driven me over the top. Even my little princess is busy writing an article so I don’t want to disturb her. So meanwhile…I shall feast upon your grey cells by telling you about coffee. And give you food for thought in return. So sit down, relax and read on about coffee with a cup of coffee in your hand!

There is probably no person on this planet who has never tasted coffee in his/her life. If there is…then he/she has a really sad life. It’s probably the most sensuous beverage in the world. Conversations gain momentum over cups of coffee. Acquaintances are made of steaming hot mugs of espressos or creamy glasses of cold coffee!

There have been various descriptions of this amazing beverage…and here is one of the oldest ever recorded!
In 1583, Leonhard Rauwolf, a German physician, after returning from a ten-year trip to the Near East, gave this description of coffee:

“A beverage as black as ink, useful against numerous illnesses, particularly those of the stomach. Its consumers take it in the morning, quite frankly, in a porcelain cup that is passed around and from which each one drinks a cupful. It is composed of water and the fruit from a bush called bunnu.”

Today, coffee has a global presence. And it is surprising that this universal drink had its earliest roots in the small little country that the world calls Ethiopia! That too, as early as the 9th century!

Someone just walked in with a cup full of coffee from the vending machine. I don’t really like the coffee actually because I like it strong and the coffee from the vending machines is really bland.

In some ways, coffee is like women. Rich in color, intoxicating, beautiful, irresistible and occasionally…bitter. And since I like….actually…respect women with a strong mind, hence I like strong coffee! Now, where did such a sensuous name originate from? Good question. It came about from the Italian word caffé, which in turn was borrowed from the Ottoman Turkish word kavah.

Coffee also comes in handy when a guy is unsure about how to ask a girl out. “Can we go have a cup of coffee?” is a question that makes things sound so much simpler! Coffee has a certain, inexplicable romance attached to it. A rainy afternoon, a hot cup of coffee, dim lights and a book…sounds perfect! Ideas have emerged over cups of coffee. Rebellions have been planned! And the emergence of coffee houses all across the country had given the intelligentsia to gather at one place and raise a storm in a tea…err…coffee cup! So many songs have been dedicated to this wonderful drink! Besides…coffee has been used in ice creams, chocolates, cocktails and God alone knows what else. The usage is not limited to edible recipes only…it is also used to cut through the olfactory nerves when one is trying out perfumes because coffee can cut through smell.

And coffee has good and bad effects on health too! The negative effects are primarily due to Caffeine and the positive ones (I don't know what causes them, though) are that it reduces the risk of Parkinson's, Alzheimer's and a whole lot of other diseases!

Sheesh! i have actually been sermonising!
In short…coffee has a lot to be written about and that just reminds me…I have to head back to work. I hope you have finished you cup of coffee and I have chewed thoroughly on you brains. If I haven’t, do let me know because I haven’t then I shall be back to chew a little more on what’s remaining of you brain. Right now, I have to rush…my coffee awaits me!

Adios.

The case of the lost identity

(This story is a work of fiction but may bear resemblance to people living and dead.)

He walked into his office groggily at 11 in the morning. Being half dazed wasn’t really an exceptional thing considering sleep was a scarce commodity and the reasons for that were innumerable. His chair, as usual was missing. Grabbing a chair from the next workstation, he sat down. He put on the button on his comp and sat staring blankly at the screen.

At 24, if someone asked him what he wanted from life, he probably wouldn’t have had an answer. Theoretically, he could see it all sorted out. Finances, romance, career, life and everything else that mattered. The job was good and so was the money. There was an angel in life…though she hadn’t quite become his girl…but he was working on it. And he was hopeful. But in reality…it was all one big scattered jigsaw puzzle. One labyrinth he couldn’t find the way out of. Strange that a person who could visualize life so clearly, couldn’t reach the destination!

His questions to life seemed to disappear somewhere in the fathomless depths of the ocean. Anyway, giving in to reality that stared him in the face…he sat down to work. Work…now THAT was an interesting term, considering that was pretty much what he had in life. Home. Work. Work. Home.

And this hustle bustle of life, which had gradually given way to monotony, he had lost something very dear to him. Something essential. His identity. Who was he? The question gave way to a deathly silence. He wracked his brains and thought hard but the deafening silence continued its advance on the noise. Sitting there in that office, he was experiencing Brownian movement. Nobody there could even remotely estimate what was going on within him. He was restless.

He thought of the past. He thought of the bright spots that seemed to provide the only light which gave him the strength to fight. Sitting there, he thought if he had always been so clueless about life. The answer, definitely, was NO. Then where had he lost his way? And when? He couldn’t seem to remember.

Today, when identity has been converted into a commodity, he did not possess it. On one hand, it was good because he could disappear into the lanes of anonymity when he was tired of the rat race. He was untraceable. But sometimes…he wanted to be discovered. He wanted to be known by people. Life had put him into a fix. And he was the one who had to find the way out because otherwise he would undergo slow suffocation. He could already feel the pain. Then suddenly…he saw that face. His little angel. He loved her. He adored her. He wanted to share his life with her. But alas! Words sometimes, fell too short to tell her how much she meant. He stared at her photograph…lost in her thoughts. Her voice rang in his ears like the chirping of birds on a spring morning.

Sitting there, he made a decision. He was called indecisive but this time, he knew he would never decide on anything more firmly than this. He decided to set out on the quest to discover his identity. Not his name or what the world thought of him but to find out who he actually was. He asked his princess to walk with him. The journey will be tough without her support. He knew he could take care of her.

Did she walk holding his hand on the paved and unpaved lanes of life? I do not know. But he is already on the quest and I haven’t heard from the princess in a while. I…happen to be an optimist. Rest is open to interpretation…
If you find his identity…call him on 1800 1600 1600

And if you don’t…then he will find it himself. And he will come back.

Adios.

The autobiography of a dust bin...

First…for those of you who understand Hindi: “Mujhe Naaz pe naaz hai”
For those of you who don’t understand the language…well…ask someone to translate it for you! I wonder what I would have done if my little angel wasn’t around! She is the source of constant inspiration and the brains behind these crazy pieces…I just punch it out in the language called English!! Thank you darling :)

Ok, now moving on with the piece. I shall now hand the keyboard over to the Dust Bin, who is very keen on telling you his story…

Hi. I am a Dust Bin. You may have come across me at your home, on the road and various other mentionable and unmentionable places. I have various forms…I can look like a penguin, an aluminum trash can, a plastic bucket and a whole lot of other things.

Now, people put me in a corner and just forget me unless they have some trash. Basically, they give me crap all the time! Though…technically, I am a DUST BIN so I am supposed to collect only DUST but people stuff me with all kinds of absolute garbage!

To top it off, they don’t clean me up! And by the end of the day I am so stuffed that I can’t really eat any more! That excessive garbage accumulation also forces me to take on the role of a home to different living beings like rats, mice, dogs and many people that I will rather not mention! But yeah, I kind of like the variety because after all, who doesn’t want some variation in their diet?? That’s what one may call a balanced diet.

If your are wondering about what I am getting at, then stop wondering because I am not getting anywhere. I am a DUST BIN, remember…so I get crap and I TALK rubbish! Well, don’t blame me for ! have you ever figured what would have happened if I did not exist in the world? Where would all the garbage have gone? But not that now people don’t have it going all over the place like the roads, pavements and various other places.

This was about in general as a dust bin. Now, about my personal life. Have had a pretty strange one. I am made out of an old carton meant for more worthy things in its lifetime but for some reason people thought I would suit this job profile better…and it was anyway a brighter option considering that the other was being spread out and used as a doormat! So I don’t really remember when I was born but I have been meticulously keeping this room clean for the past six months. And though I don’t have any exercise the whole day, considering I don’t have legs to move around, thankfully I do not put on any weight because of my super fast metabolism, I guess.

I remember one day when this kid had thrown a half eaten pepperoni pizza in my mouth and it was absolutely yum. In fact, I always wait for those big parties that my employers throw once in a while because I get to eat brilliant food for a change.
Oh…and my height is two feet and the complexion is wheatish. Religion…ummm…well I am not too particular about that because I collect garbage anyway!
Recently, I had a massive crush on this rag-picker who used to empty my contents in the morning because she was the only one in the whole wide world who didn’t give me garbage. Instead, she took it from me. One gorgeous girl she was! Shy that I am, I could never express how much I loved her…and besides, I was a mere dust bin. I remember waiting for her to arrive in the morning, like the warm rays of sunlight after a cold, dark night. But then, I am a dust bin and not destined to be happy so one morning I heard her mushy talk with the man servant upstairs and before I could realize, they got romantically involved and got married! Now they work at the same house and she lives with the employers’ family upstairs. It hurts to know that she is someone else’s girl now! Bhoo hoo hoo…(oops! I can’t cry because that makes the cardboard rot and wither).

I like the dog next door and the female dog (just trying to be politically correct) at my home too! They keep sniffing at me and give me a little peck on the cheek once in a while (though, with the kind of shape I have, it’s a little difficult to figure out where my cheeks really are)…just like they do to the humans! They are getting married next month and I overheard both the families plan to give me a promotion. A dust bin getting a promotion? Doesn’t make sense, right? Well…this is how. I generally collect only dry garbage. So I am pretty clean. And both the families have run out of boxes. The few that ARE remaining are too small. So I shall be cleaned, given a new cover and be upgraded to be the home for the newly married couple and the cradle for their beautiful little babies! Whoa! What bliss. Life IS good indeed sometimes. And did I mention that there is a new rag picker and she is even more sweet! So well, life is, I guess…looking up finally.

Anyway…my job beckons and besides, I have twisted my cardboard fingers…typing. So you all pray for me while go and take some more crap. And now it’s over to this human sitting beside me.

Hey guys…it’s me…Shom…back again. Well, Dustin (that’s what I have christened the dust bin and I wonder what Hoffman will have to say to that) has gone back to work and I am too bored to write. Have a headache. So I am off and I shall think of something and write the next entry myself. Take care, eat drink and make merry till then.

Adios.

Feelin' BLUE

Yesterday was a Monday. I was wearing blue. So what, you may ask. You don’t get it…do you? It was the symbolic representation of Monday morning blues. Strangely enough, quite a few other people were also wearing blue! And that’s what finally kicked off this piece. But the idea came from a beautiful angel I know.

After having read my piece on apples (if you haven’t read it yet, then just scroll down…it’s right there)…my special friend…yeah the same one who reminded me of the “apple of the eye” phrase…had given me the idea of writing a piece on blue. Without her suggestion, this piece wouldn’t have come into existence. Thank you honey…love you for this.

Anyway…moving on with the actual topic without any further diversion…I sometimes wonder why the color blue is treated so unfairly! I mean, just imagine, the unwillingness to go to the office on the groggy Monday mornings is called Monday morning BLUES (that too, in plural!). Why can’t it be called the Monday morning pinks…or Monday morning REDS (which in fact makes more sense because red is also the color associated with anger, stop, etc. and it suits the mood of the Monday mornings more!)

And then again…it is said that a person is beaten black and BLUE. I am sure the person who coined the term was color blind…because it is NOT blue, in fact it is a dark purple. I have seen that on plenty of faces! But that I guess is a convention that this language has been following for a little too long.

Now, why is feeling BLUE considered to be a negative expression? I mean, if blue is my favourite color then I may feel blue when I am the HAPPIEST! See? But since I am bound by the conventions of language again, I have to feel blue ONLY when I am sad. THAT in fact is sad.

And blue also happens to be the color of carnal desires…and trust me…Viagra has used the properties of the color to the maximum. Now, why can’t spirituality or maybe divinity be represented by blue? Strange!

Strangely, the royalty gladly attached themselves to this color, calling themselves BLUE blood. Now, will someone please come and show me what BLUE BLOOD looks like? I have just seen RED (blood with hemoglobin) and WHITE (blood sans hemoglobin) versions. Coming to think of it…BLUE might not really be the color I want, running through my veins, irrespective of how much I love that color!

Though, the saving grace is the fact that there still are a few expressions which are a little neutral…like “out of the BLUE”…which may also refer to a pleasant surprise! And “once in a BLUE moon” which again would have sounded strange if it was “once in a RED moon or GREEN moon”. Sounds jarring to the ears, doesn’t it? And...I guess someone, at some point of time, had felt like the way I am feeling right now and had hence created the expression "BLUE EYED"...which probably is the only positive connotation attached to the color. But...I don't really mind hazel, black or brown eyes either! In fact, my little angelic friend, who gave me the idea of this piece has simply awesome eyes! And they are not blue!! See?

But honestly…the color deserves a little more respect considering half the nations in this world feel blue…because blue is the color used for 50% of the flags of countries across the world! The two other most popular colors are red and white which appear on 74% and 71% of the flags respectively!

Anyway, I won’t stretch this piece to an extent that you turn blue in the face because of lack of oxygen in your respiratory track. So I shall take your leave now.

Adios.

hey...princess...

That was the day
When lady luck smiled at me…
That was the day…
I befriended a princess!

With dreamy eyes
That spoke volumes…
And the contagious laughter
Like a gurgling brook!

As the wheel of time…
Span along…I discovered
A fascination in her…
But I was no knight…I wasn’t…

In that stunning angel…
I found a little girl…
One that needed
To be cradled…valued…

Sitting by the pond…
Like a little boy
On this starry night…
I look at the moon…

The moon…as bright…
As the princess herself
and when I looked at the moon
it was her face that I sought!

The moon reflects brightly…
On the surface of water
And I silently wish…
That the moon drops into my arms!

A for an apple

I bought apples last night. Not many…just six…but they were insanely expensive. That made me wonder. Why on earth are apples so freaking expensive (well I haven’t really had the chance to check out the prices on Mars….Jupiter and the other planets of the solar system so far)?!

And I guess I have an answer…and a surprising one at that! First…if it wasn’t for a damned apple and if Mr. Adam and Miss. (or was it Mrs.?) Eve weren’t so hungry…we wouldn’t have had to live on the earth in the first place! Coming to think of it…Heaven would have been a pretty nice place to live in…what say??
So that, I guess, is reason number one. Now that makes me wonder a little more…since my mind refuses to sit still on a wonderful Saturday evening…why…why do all the fruits in the west have names ending with either ‘apple’ or ‘berry’? PineAPPLE…Custard APPLE…APPLE(I mean only apple)…Green APPLE…etc.
The rest are berries. StrawBERRY…RaspBERRY..etc.
I guess the elite ones are the ones with ‘apple’ attached to them.

Anyway…coming to the second reason. The alphabet starts with an apple! A for Apple…now…who doesn’t remember that? Christ! We would all have been illiterate if it wasn’t for apples!! This is crazy! An apple to determine the foundation of our education? Honestly…trusting something round, with a little stem and seeds, is a little bizarre when it comes to education. Anyway, the wise ones probably thought it was a brilliant idea and so it’s there.

And the third reason is even stranger! Apples have been known to keep doctors away. Remember? An apple a day keeps the doctor away…and needless to say…saves you a lot of money. So a fruit so useful can deserve to be a little pricey…err…expensive. But, I have never figured how a fruit that has a lot of vitamin C and water be enough to keep the doctor away?! Wouldn’t onions and garlic have been a better option? They would keep everyone away! See the logic? Simpler…surer and cheaper!!!

Oh…and fairy tales…the fruit has actively participated in fairy tales. Like Snow White for example was given a poisoned apple by her step mother! That’s cruel! Very cruel. But then the apple had nothing to do with it. The poor chap was cut up before that. That’s SAD.

Then again…imagine what Sir Issac Newton would have done if that apple didn’t fall on his head! Plonk…and viola…gravity was discovered! So many scientific inventions and discoveries would have never happened! Scary to think, isn’t it?

A very special friend of mine...just reminded me of the expression "Apple of one's eye"...and I can't thank her enough for that. Thank you darling. Anyway...continuing with what I was saying, I wonder why it's APPLE again...and not grape or plum or any other fruit because if the pupil is the size of an apple...I really wonder how monstrous the eye would be! Sheesh....! That's scary! But then...most of the adages in this wonderful language called English would sound absolutely absurd if they were to be taken literally.

So that’s that. A fruit with such historical importance can afford to be a little expensive. Though it makes it a little difficult for people to afford it! But that’s the deal. Take it or leave it!

Those are plenty of reasons for an apple to be expensive, isn’t it? So now I can…maybe…put my mind to rest. I hope…at least! Amen.

Till next time...

Adios.

Glancing at the writer's mind...

Little droplets of rain fall on my face and run down…
I just stand and take in the smell of wet earth! As the drops cleanse the earth off its grime…
Rivulets of rain water flowing down the roads and sidewalks as children set off their paper boats on distant voyages. Bobbing in and out of the water, the boats struggle to keep afloat and the little kids run along to see whose boat sinks the last. The joy on their faces is a sight to behold.

Splashing water as puddles form on the road…filling up the shoes with the wet soil. The cars spraying everything as they speed along the road…the showers from the clouds above sway with the winds!

I stand there…paper in hand…pencil ready to strike…but I fumble for words.
Being a writer involves a lot of writing. But then, THAT is writing for someone else. It is like documenting somebody else’s thoughts…viewpoint…dreams. It is not me. I am paid for it and so my mind works overtime to ensure that output is as close to perfection as it can possibly be. But my heart…my heart suffocates. The flow of thoughts is stemmed to suit people’s requirement.

Sinking in this toxic concoction of stress and ambition, I thrash my limbs to stay afloat. Just like the little paper boats in the rivulets. I want to run like those joyful children into the lap of oblivion. But I feel handicapped. Like I am strapped to a wheelchair.

I want to write for myself. To put words on paper, which arise from my mind…independent of any external influence. I just want to continue writing till I run out of ink, paper and my hand goes numb with fatigue. I want to go on writing till my mind runs out of thoughts and falls silent. But that will not happen because the mind never rests till it reaches the grave. So running out of thoughts and things to write about is something that doesn’t really worry me.

Though I agree it maybe absolute pfaff for the people who read it but honestly, I am least bothered. As long as I like what I write…I will continue. But alas, life isn’t all that simple.

Oh! The kids are now sitting on the parapet of the terrace and munching away on roasted groundnuts. Interesting, isn’t it? The most elementary fact in life that eludes our senses is that happiness lies in simplicity. In the rat race to leave everyone behind and surge ahead…we sometimes lose focus of the simpler but greater joys in life. Strange but true.
That is why, I guess children are so happy till they grow up and face this world that can never look beyond a selfish purpose.

Trrring…trrring…

There…there rings my phone…forcing me out of my thoughts with which I had cocooned myself. And I join in the run again. The run to surge ahead in life and be successful…but a run that also ends up in an intangible…unknown feeling of regression! Kinda ironical…isn’t it?