Wednesday, October 27, 2010
who cherished his inedibles,
and christened his place
after the hole
in his nose.
Most time now spent, instead
at an eatery with an exotic, accented name,
though lacking that acute subtleness –
Café Coffee Day!
Identical to the ones in Connaught Place
and Whitefield and Richmond Road.
Well, at least similar to them.
And just peek out of the Coffee House
there you have it:
"Heritage AC Restaurant"
as Veggies glares from a distance.
Yes, we have an AC Restaurant now,
trying its best to make us forget
the backwater town embracing it;
though to be fair,
they do serve 'Motor Paneer.'
Deepak Da's taken it to the streets;
JCB Canteen has ceased to be,
as have 3 am meals.
No more paranthas with cheese flowing,
no more cheese curry to match.
And it’s all so alien now
at these places not seen before,
for I see faces new,
faces, not seen before,
And just too many of 'em.
The utter loneliness
in this swarming mess
makes me sick in my stomach at times.
Now don't get me wrong there;
I love a coffee had in solitude,
just that I prefer being alone
only with familiar people around.
Hundreds and hundreds of freshmen
over a thousand in all
and sophomores and juniors
crawl the halls of residence,
the messes, the wings,
faces unseen, unknown
except a few perhaps:
the quizzers, the math olympians,...
the mental-masturbators basically.
Only a few recognizable clans remain:
batchmates - seniors, super-seniors, some beyond...
who now talk in tongues bizarre,
saying TIME took away most of theirs,
and speak of "apping" and GRE.
(and those speak in REALLY creepy tongues)
And of CATs and Barks (or was it Barc's)
and CFAs and MBAs
and PPTs and T&Ps
and PPOs and P&Gs
and Schlums and Siemens
(Spellings double checked)
and so on and so forth…
So most meals now had
are by myself
most interactions online
most chats, on IMs.
Except the train journeys,
the 2.2 run-ins,
other such inavoidables.
Social media, bringing the far nearer
taking the near, much farther...
Oh! Don’t get me started on that one!
So, as I sip my beverage,
not at Anwar Khan's shack,
or Cheddi's as they call it,
but at the aforementioned CCD,
amidst the aforementioned crowd,
and think of times well spent
over leaky cheese paranthas
at a place which did not know
of coffee bars with accents in their names;
I can't help but ask,
even though graduation is far,
and another semester is in sight:
Is it just me,
or has Farewell,