Dear Coffee

P.S. I love you

I’ve been meaning to write you a letter for a while.

Do you remember how we met? Oh, I know you’ve ruled our family from the beginning of time — but I am talking about how you and I met.

The year was 1979. It was March and I was busy preparing for my Grade 11 exams.

One chilly morning, after I returned from the milk-booth around the corner — oh yes, those were the days of milk bottles — I got back to my books. A few minutes later, Mom brought a tray with two big tumblers of coffee and sat beside me to enjoy the sunrise with hers. Who knew that would become a lifelong tradition with us?

What was so special about that particular morning? It was my first cup of coffee. Ever. At first, I was shocked. I thought Mom had forgotten to bring me milk. But she smiled and said, no, she hadn’t forgotten, she’d just figured I might like to taste coffee.

And it was love at first sip.

I still remember that moment. Bringing that cup hesitantly to my lips and taking a tiny sip, afraid you would scorch my tongue. Boy, were you hot! Pun intended, of course, because you still are! And yes, I was mesmerized as you trickled down, warm and delicious, into my throat and onward, to take permanent residence in my heart. It was like coming home.

And thus started our lifelong love affair. I looked at Mom and smiled happily. She nodded. Oh yes, as a coffee-lover herself, I can imagine how pleased she must have felt that she was the one who introduced me to you.

I wished we could have met a second time every day — but Mom wouldn’t hear of it. Later, she said. I listened.

But it is so hard to stay away from the one you love, and I was no exception. We met secretly. At friends’ houses. Roadside rendezvous. And how wonderful it felt!

When it comes to you, coffee, I am literally insatiable!

You became a sort of secret benchmark in my life. The people I met? I felt so much better when they respected you as much as I did.

Did I see you roll your eyes? Good. I did too. Clockwise and anti-clockwise.

My favorite memories of you revolve around my Mom. Relishing that first cup of the day together, no matter what. Enjoying the first rays of the sun in our balcony as we sipped our coffee and inhaled the fragrance of the frankincense that enveloped our home before we got busy in the kitchen. I like to call it my sacred morning raga.

I also fondly think of those days, back in 1987 when we moved back to the city I loved, when my friends and I met at 6 am every morning for a walk. When we returned, Mom would be waiting with freshly brewed coffee that we enjoyed together before we got started with our respective days.

Nothing beats beginning the day with you, dear coffee. Good things happen when we get together.

I remember when I started making my own coffee with the ancient South Indian coffee filter we’ve had in our family for so long that I have no idea how old it is. All I know is that I’ve always seen it in its place of pride on the kitchen counter to the left of our stove, in the space seemingly reserved for it — right from the days when we used coal and wood as fuel, to kerosene stoves and now, cooking gas.

While our kitchen may have progressed over the years to keep up with the times, adding appliances and gadgets that save time and do a better job, our coffee filter rules her domain. Some of my friends have practically threatened to gift me one of those snazzy coffee machines, but I keep assuring them that I would never consider switching over to a more modern coffee maker.

I love my morning ritual of spooning the coffee powder, made from roasting coffee beans and freshly ground, into the filter. As I pour boiling water over the coffee powder, I feel excited as I anticipate the musical sound of the eagerly awaited coffee decoction percolating. I also imagine I hear my Mom’s voice, sometimes humming, sometimes talking to me.

When I take in your aroma in the morning, I smell possibilities. I think of warm conversations. You are my liquid sanity. Though I have traveled afar and enjoyed coffee in different countries, nothing beats the south Indian filter coffee I make at home!

I am so glad you love me back! See that heart!

I am glad my life partner enjoys his first cup as much as I do! When we met for the first time, the first thing he asked was if I’d like to have coffee, and took me to a little restaurant that served rather good coffee.

To this day, we still savor our first cup of coffee together every morning.

My dear Coffee, thanks for making my relationships so much richer. To me, you are not just a beverage…you are a magical experience that kick-starts my day, my freshly ground heaven! You are a hug in a mug that sends me spiraling down nostalgia lane, memory street.

And while I may have had to cut down on my coffee drinking, I want you to know that I treasure every sip of my half cup reverently.

Thank you for your presence in my life.

Your biggest fan, Vidya

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