As I sat motionless in my car,
Surrounded by an army of vehicles
Of similar making, but with people
Who were indifferent to my existence.
I witnessed the water flowing down,
As I gained height and inclination at an over-bridge.
I witnessed the droplets of water on the window.
They rushed back, in resistance to a forward moving world.
And I was nothing but a mere spectator,
To an enchantment called life.
Unusually wet it was for a Tuesday,
Unusually sunny it was for dense August rains.
It was a juxtaposition of elements,
And I had never felt so physically repulsive to human race than before.
I felt like a wet log of wood refusing to burn.
My thoughts drove to me the cafe,
My escape from the chaos of the everyday.
I ordered a cup of coffee,
And eagerly waited till it reached me,
For empty single occupancy tables looked sadder than ever.
I pretended that I was interested in the decor,
Looking here and there, with lip and eye brow movements
Displaying my keen interest.
5 minutes felt longer than boyhood.
My coffee arrived- black coffee, my usual.
I starred at the coffee; it looked as dark as my life at the moment.
A sudden flashback of events- failed relationship, foreign education with no scholarship,
A shark-of-a-loan looming, a work life that was not blooming,
Ageing parents, increasing responsibility,
Heavy shoulders of the eldest sibling,
Lost and not found and social media de-linked.
I approached my first sip with a rewind reel.
The coffee tasted bad not because coffee is bitter,
Maybe it was my emotional state.
A juxtaposition of elements. For a change,
I asked for milk, and then poured generously into the cup.
The black blended with the white into a creamish colour of middle position.
I watched how my spoon revolved round the cup, consciously turning
The colour into lighter shade.
I wondered, does it only take a conscious choice?
All it takes is milk to make it taste better?
The sugar container lay at one end of the table.
The coffee tasted better,
But they say coffee gets increasingly better towards the end of the cup,
Where all the sugar lies.
I wonder if life is the same way as we approach the end,
Or is the milky way the escape.
