Filter Coffee

I don't like powder coffee. Its like your taste has been decided even before you knew what it tastes like. No! I don't like Cappuccino either, its dressed too well for a drink. And yes! definitely not with whipped cream. It shuns the coffee bean altogether. I like my Filter coffee. The brew trickles down smooth and soft, rich in aroma and brave in taste. The filter lets the brew down made by the hot water and grounded coffee in its container. It's not a net. It is a pierced filter plate bold enough to let the true nature of the brew participate.

In the pool of mature conversations and right things to say my brain's filter is a bit fickle, ready to surprise me and devastate others. My mind thinks of the appropriate outputs that my mouth should give at certain occasions but often the distinctions between what I ought to say and what I want to say get mixed up. I end up with a bunch of possible outcomes but there isn't much time to filter those outcomes again for the best one. My mouth opens ready to handle the situation and I press my lips because there is a clog at the entrance of my filter. And then it happens. My filter develops huge pierced holes in it and what I want to say comes out instead of what I ought to say. Boom!

A good brew is not enough. The sweet milk gives it personality and appearance. The blend of both makes it thick and bring out a beautiful colour. If the brew is raw and brute then the milk supports it with finesse and elegance. The brew decides how strong the beverage will be. The brew waits for a purpose that the milk gives. If the brew is mud then milk acts like the wheel that molds it into a pot and a perfect filter coffee not too brown not too white is made to blow my mind. 

Everyone looks at me like I said something they had not heard before and I knew I had done it again. But nonetheless, they looked relieved and laughed because I told them what their efficient filters blocked on their way to the mouth. They were surprised at the rawness of words and gasped at my naivety. I never knew something like that could bring me and them so much pleasure. It was the idea of conversations that made me stand out. My pierced filter give out those words because the intent of conversations is to open my mind and let thoughts travel from my mind to your mind and back. So that when they come back they would have met your thoughts and touched the walls of your brain. Sometimes they don't come back and sometimes when they do I have something to take back. But most of the times when they travel they hover at your well netted filter not knowing how to behave and come back confused. The sweet, child like gesture of letting them inside make the participants happy. Your words mix with your honest gesture that makes the conversation real.

And when you have that real, amazing conversation you top it up with a Filter coffee.

A Certain Love Letter

I went to a beautiful place for a field visit. But I did not realize that it was your presence that made it so worthwhile. Watching you every day sipping my coffee was like the best morning I could ask for.  The first few days were just glances and hasty eye contacts but then I decided that I would stare at you shamefully no matter what anyone thought.

Your presence was hard to ignore. Your calm face and thrift gestures didn’t match at all but that attracted me the most. Then few conversations began with giggles and smiles I never felt like going back to my room. I might have looked like a creep but observing you was something I did like a routine. Every day after visiting households and doing surveys I waited to come back to you. You looked at me like an ardent listener whenever I spoke. Spending hours in silence is something I could never do with anyone but you.

Remember those long strolls of awkward silences? That was the first time I actually observed how deep my breath can get. I was almost gasping for breath when I saw you in moonlight. It was scary at night and so you walked alongside with me. While walking you brushed against my feet, my face was straight but my body shivered as your touch ran a chill right till the tip of my spine. The wind helped our romance bloom I think. I wondered If I looked pretty when my hair flew over my face like they show in movies.

We never really had a real proper conversation because we didn’t need to. I felt like you and I had a weird kind of telepathy- no questions asked-none answered but the message was clear and crystal. I was in love and it did not matter if you were too. I could not possibly guess if you were because your tidal mood swings surprised me all the time. You were so beautiful that I thought everyone had a crush on you. Well, I love you and that’s all that matters to me.

Days passed and it was time to go. I owed you a proper goodbye.

 My voice felt heavy as I spoke,"You have been generous. You listened to my rants on how sometimes I felt helpless, empowered, amazed, furious and sometimes all of the above at once. I remember how you washed off my anxieties before I met people who struggled every day to make life look like it has never been better for them. Every time I met  people I came to you telling you things I can't say out loud because I was scared I may not have answers to their questions and mine. Today is the last time we meet. Thank you. I will see you again."

I waved good bye.

Like always you waved back and waved at me till one of us was out of sight.

A beach can make you feel like a lover without even having one.

Take me to a place..

Take me to a place where people are honest,

a place where people accept things that they see,

a place where people can proudly say what they mean.

Take me to a place where they clearly call me a curse,

a place where people don't lie to face for years- call me only a disgrace and not divine!

a place where the norm is to live in fear.

Take me to a place where they pass laws to exploit my kind,

where laws openly disregard my existence and no mercy to find,

a place where the kings, soldiers, priests, nobles and even gods think that I'm just an object,

where they say, 'Reap and Rape your women with no affect'.

Take me to a place where there are no public secrets,

a place where they can use and abuse me without doubt,

a place where its impossible to cast public shame.

For I'm tired of believing I'm free,

I'm tired of believing that I can think,

I'm repelled by the idea of hope!

Take me to a place where people are honest,

where I can say I'm an outcast,

where I can scream till my heart believes

Oppressed at last

Oppressed at last

Oppressed at last!

Kehna Kya Chahte Ho?

As a child I went to a government aided school where I had friends from different economic as well as linguistic backgrounds and we rarely spoke to each other in English. And so like many of my friends I had the habit of translating whatever I think in Hindi or my mother tongue into English. So I would go like "How long are you?" direct transation of "tumhari lambai kitni hain?" and then my convent school friend would try best to control her giggles and tell me, "Sanjana...how Tall.. how tall are you?"

Thank fully I had generous friends and my family helped me out. But I think this language puzzle is more than it seems. It is not just communicating, its about how every language has its own way of communication, and languages change in different social settings and different social groups. You can call it Lingo or may be different ways of articulation. Because of these differences we might make the horrible error of judging someone as a dumb person.

To give another example, in my class while discussing economics our professor began, "Economics as a discipline looks at the problem of choice. We have a set of constraints within which we have to make choice which is central to economics" It was quite clear what he meant. One of my classmates seemed perplexed and had a funny expression on his face like someone who just finished crapping and found out that the flush is not working! "But sir, if I have a cycle and I want to go to somewhere then I would choose the cycle. Iss me Problem Kya hain??" he asked. The professor shook his head and said, "Agar yaha se 100 km 15min me jaana ho toh tum cycle me jaoge ki auto ya car me? So you make a choice according to your location and time that is the problem of choice". Again irritated my classmate goes on, "Agar door hain toh bus/auto/car me jaao, paas hain toh cycle me jaao! Iss me Problem Kya hain? Samasya Kya hain? Agar hum har cheez ko samasya samjhenge toh life me aage kaise badenge??". At this point we all were falling off our chairs laughing! The professor realized what had happened and he said pressing every word. "Ye Hindi wala Samasya nahi hain. Problem matlab charcha aur gaur ka vishay. Matlab ki Samasya nahi hain....par yahi samasya hain". That was it I fell off my chair laughing could not take this anymore!! 

I realized later that the way we talk in academic circles is very different than how we converse in everyday life. There is a specific Discourse (a written or spoken communication which uses specific terms and terminology which have different meanings within the context) in which different words mean different things and are used differently. Corporate houses may talk about efficiency, value and profit in different connotations. The more diverse the meanings get the more scope it provides people to express themselves in different ways. And this diversity is required to break the monotony and often to challenge certain dominant ways of thinking.Wonder why we like Poetry, short stories and protest music so much? Because they blow your mind by using the same language but say things differently, open up a new perspective within the constraints of the same language. And I think this diversity is fun and nice to experience because it opens our mind new narratives and understandings.

This again reminds me my most favourite comic book character - Suppandi! I'm sure most kids from the 90s have read Tinkle at least once and skipped most stories to find the Suppandi story and read it first.

Many people think that Suppandi is a fool but the truth is just a simpleton villager who struggles with the ways of the city life. He is so loyal to his masters that he enjoys every work given to him and thinks for the well-being of his master. But he does not understand the work language of the city dwellers. If you ask Suppandi to keep a watch on some property he would remove his wrist watch and place on it. He is not an idiot, he is just literal. And every time he is thrown out or fired he again comes back with the same energy to get a new job. He gets disappointed for the fact that his master lost a loyal servant or for something else but not because he cannot earn. (read cultural capital )

 Now what if one of the generous masters enrolls Suppandi in a Public speaking class or for that matter a grooming class or make him do a course that trains him to be the perfect labour like how we have become by being trained into the formal education system where in we all think the same and look at things in a fairly similar way. Here Suppandi loses his charm of resistance. Suppandi relates to all those people who struggle with the language of work in formal spaces. And it is this resistance of Suppandi who refuses to reform and learn the ways of his master and the ability to get back with a bang with a new work, new story and a new master which makes us laugh and secretly admire Suppandi. As he can afford to not conform by the virtue of being a fictitious character and we have to get an education, get an MBA to get the job and be the perfect product of the system which can be absorbed into the labour industry. 

By the virtue of being Humans we are creative and find ways to do things differently within the things that we have been given and hence we constantly try to break out of the systems that bind us when we reach a saturation point. And these multiple understandings and diverse ways of expressing gives us the window to be creative and look at things differently and be able to understand others and incorporate what they feel. Diversity sucks! b'coz there will be no standard way of communicating but then you can not have a Mcdonald burger everyday. We need noodles, kadi chawal. sambaar and sometimes khichdi and variety in everything that we do. 

So next time someone cannot understand what you are saying I think its not that the other person is dumb, it means that its your opportunity to understand things differently! :)

This is my first blog post. Hope you like it!
If you feel like saying-" Arey! ye kya bakwas hain" then please comment, lekin zara pyaar se!