A Coffee Lover's Testimonial

7 beans. That is where the magic is said to have originated. I am imagining that it must have been a chilly morning, golden sunshine penetrating the gossamer veil of mist hanging over the lush green hills of Chikmagalur, that dawn when Baba Budan sowed the seven mysterious beans he had smuggled from the whimsically named port of Mocha. And there began the romance that permeated centuries with its enticing aroma and woke generations after generations to inner peace, harmony and wellness. 

Wake up and smell the tea, said no one ever! There is just something about that lingering aroma of a piping hot cup of coffee that rouses the mind, awakens the inner eye to the minutest red of the rising sun and makes you feel like everything is in its rightful place and all is well with the world. There is no right time for a coffee, really. As the popular t-shirt slogan goes 'any time is coffee o'clock.' Statistically, there are more people who drink tea than coffee on earth and yet, tea has nowhere near the emotive appeal, the sensuousness, the symbolism that coffee has. Perhaps it has something to do with the depth of flavour, the richness of taste, the willingness to reinvent itself that coffee has always displayed. That is why it rolls easier off the tongue to say 'shall we discuss this over a cup of coffee?' If all the stories ever related over a cup of coffee were put together, right there you would have the greatest story ever told by any man anywhere.

A person's initiation to coffee is no less of a milestone than first love! It's a rite of passage, almost - a stepping stone to adulthood. In my home, there was a legal age for drinking coffee. My mother was firmly of the opinion that anyone under the age of 18 should have nothing to do with caffeine. Malt or chocolate based milk drinks were fine; plain white milk was ideal. There is a short window, in her calendar, when the children of her house had their first sip of coffee before attaining the age of majority and this was the all-too-crucial Board examinations in the tenth standard. For up to two months leading up to the examinations and for the two weeks of writing it, my sister, brother and I were allowed the adult pleasure of having a thermos of coffee on our study tables. Depending on how long into the night we intended to slave it out, this could go from a single cup to three. Milk was deliberately avoided so we would not develop a taste for the sinful brew. And as soon as the exams concluded so did the childhood tryst with coffee. It was not to be savoured again until we had reached the age when we could lawfully, as per my mother, refuse to drink milk anymore. 

My sister and brother were milk haters. They refused and pleaded and sometimes poured their milk down the drain. They would grab a coffee in the college canteen. Or when out with their friends and sometimes right there at home when my mom wasn't looking. But I was the child after her own heart. Not only did I not develop a liking for coffee, I actually was eager to get back to my cup of chocolate milk in the mornings. Every time I remembered the thermos of black coffee, I would remember the involuntary tremors that would set in in my body after the second cup, making it impossible to go to sleep and therefore stretched out my study time into the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps I have coffee to thank for that gold medal I won for being the school topper in those Board examinations.But I was happy enough to let it go.  At that age, I did not appreciate that that short-lived and casual fling with coffee was opening the doors to a lifelong affair of the heart and soul.

It would not be far off the mark to say I was shamed into accepting my first adult cup of coffee. I had just joined for my Master's degree in Law and it seemed like the universally accepted alternative to 'Hi' in Law School was 'Want to get a coffee?' In a matter of only a few days, I had said 'sorry, I don't drink coffee' about five dozen times and been looked at like I was an alien, been cold-shouldered like a social outcast and isolated like I carried the germs of a communicable disease. The icing on the cake was when the venerable Dr. Mitra ordered coffee for all during his common session on Constitutional Law and I meekly volunteered that I did not drink coffee. 'Coffee for 8 and tea for one, then,' he barked into the extension to the canteen. 'Sir, please, no, I don't drink tea either.' He gave me a strange look before speaking into the extension again: 'Coffee for 8 and a cup of milk for the baby.' The class burst into laughter. I just about stopped myself from bursting into tears. Never in my life again have I used the phrase 'I don't drink coffee' and how much richer my life emerged for that! Thank you and your affable insult, Dr. Mitra! 

From then on it was honeymoon for coffee and me. Coffee before and after every seminar, coffee with my guide for paper presentations and discussions. Coffee for morning and coffee for late nights. By the time I left Law School, I was a regular caffeine junkie! Over the years, I have toned down and settled for less caffeine but even now, one of the few things that remain immutable in my life includes my gigantic morning cup of coffee. My love for the frothy brown has also widened to include a love of coffee mugs in an assortment of shapes and colours. The one non-negotiable condition? It should contain nothing less than 300ml of the seductive liquid. 

From exotic Ethiopian Kahwe to Irish fIourish, there is no end to the variety you can experiment with coffee. In terms of pure coffee pleasure and caffeine satisfaction, nothing comes close to a full-bodied South Indian kaapi - the perfect blend of full-fat milk and sugar with the tantalizing richness of satiny, black coffee essence dripping through a bed of freshly roasted and ground coffee beans in a South Indian filter! I am no coffee snob. I am perfectly at ease with my instant coffee too, provided it is the 100% variety and not the mixed types. Just opening up that bottle can fill you with instant calm and positivity! Cappuccino takes second place to its Indian cousin but with some flavorings it can still redeem itself. I am not a fan of latte - it seems like a coffee that cannot make up its mind! Espresso is too heavy for the morning: it is more of a workplace and meetings thing. It's a colleague, not a friend. Someone you can spend hours talking work with but not someone you could open your heart to! And cold coffee! Cold coffee is like that old friend from kindergarten days. You are excited to find them, thrilled to talk to them but after a while run out of conversation with them. It will be a while before you think of calling them again! Would I pay good money to relish a sip of coffee that has at some point passed through the intestines of an elephant or a wild civet cat? Not really. I am good with my gleaming granules of practical instant coffee for my morning nirvana! And thanks, Vidya Varma, for reminding me of that sinful indulgence we popularised in the PG Women's Hostel - coffee with condensed milk! If you have the physical wherewithal to give it a shot (and what a shot it is!) indulge yourself with some creamy, sweet condensed milk coffee for pure, luxurious relaxation!

For an unexpected date with my husband, a chance meeting with friends, nothing comes close to a cup of coffee to set the mood and pace. It takes you through a day when you can't eat. It takes you through a day your appetite took over your senses. It takes you through the tedium of a day full of people, it fills in the vacant spaces of a lonely day at home. A cup of coffee is more than a cup of liquid golden perfection. It is happiness, memories, sunshine, nostalgia, craving, satiation. Gentle on that cup - it is life you hold within!