Remembering my Favorite Coffee House
If this isn’t what it looks like in heaven, I don’t want to die
Have you ever had a place or a shop that has been a part of you growing up and in one way or the other has influenced shaping your character?
This café is one such place for me.
Old Coffee House, a cute and cozy café located in Trivandrum — my city in the southern part of India — is the reason I started believing in muses. Situated on the shore of the Arabian Sea, this café has become a hub for locals and tourists alike.
The constant breeze and the endless gushing of the waves render a timeless atmosphere in and around the coffee shop. The coffee is exemplary, the food is delicious, and the vibe is apt for creators of any field. Every time I sit at one of those glossy tables to write something on my notepad, I get the feeling of an aura similar to what Rowling might have experienced in The Elephant House, Edinburgh.
There’s a book rack set up in one side of the café, filled with books donated by customers. You can take home any book you like for just INR 200 ($2 approx.) if you replace it with a book of the same genre. A bulletin board is hung to the side of the rack for the books of the month, where readers can pin a small review of the book they read from the rack each month.
The airport is just half a mile away and travelers often flock the café regularly. It has therefore witnessed countless reunions and farewells and has silently taken part in their joys and tears. It is a pleasant experience to sit and watch them, because oh boy, are they a plethora of tales?! I can’t help but observe them, who inadvertently have become characters in the stories I write.
The pandemic, though, changed everything. I feel incomplete every day without making my customary trip to the café. The blend of brewing coffee and the sea, the cool breeze, the occasional spraying of the waves, and the exuberant bustle of customers stimulated my writing to a great extent that they became a part of the creative process. The coffee house is temporarily closed but I’m hoping it’d welcome their people back soon to help restore the element of life they lost with its absence.
Would you please consider buying me a coffee? Thank you so much. As an unemployed graduate, this means a lot!
Now, before you go, please check out what the wonderful Radhika Iyer has to say about the South-Indian filter kaapi to which I relate on a very emotional level.
Love.
