I have been an espresso lover, the aroma and the bitter taste with half a tablespoon of brown sugar to go with it would bring a relief to my tired eyes and soul, I remember there have been times when I had six double shot espressos over countless number of cigarettes just to chase sleep out of my system. If it hadn’t been for a strong cup of caffeine, I would have missed out on work assignments, late night conversations and many of my blog pieces would have been unwritten. This addiction has been a long and strong bond, and I don’t remember having met or known anyone else who shared the same fixation.
I would often tell her about my dependence on caffeine, and the urge to smoke when I needed to focus, while she would laugh it off or count me the cons, I believed She would one day understand what magic coffee, black coffee if not espresso (it was too strong for her likening) was. And, the day arrived, an evening in fact.
I remember her walking down the stairs that led to the open area of the cafeteria we would frequent. She had a rough day at work, although She loved her job to bits, but then it’s only human to crib about stuff we hold close to our heart. The complaining had started, I pretended to be interested while my focus lied on catching her facial gestures, the way her lips quivered and eyes blinked, She would untie her hairs and tie it in a bun to relax herself and breathe out twice, long breaths it would be, I assume She still does the same when stressed.
And, what magic potion apart from black coffee could relieve her, a strong dose to calm her down. She didn’t ignore my suggestion this time, no persuasion and She agreed. Two cups of black coffee, I ordered. I realised, it would be a little bitter for her taste, perhaps a black forest pastry could nullify the same, and there it was too.
The conversation lasted over an hour and a half, and by the time we had realized we had downed a couple of caffeine cups each. I didn’t mind as long as I had her for company, too sweet She was, anything bitter wouldn’t seem to affect my taste with her sitting beside me.
The after effect was to be seen later at night, She cut short our WhatsApp conversation, bid me good night, a couple of hours later She pinged me back, the conversation thus began again with me keeping my fingers crossed, I could sense that She wasn’t being her normal self who would otherwise retire to bed early. Ping after ping, text after text, and it was dawn by the time She remembered that it would be time for her to hit the gym in a couple of hours.
I was being apprehensive, doubting that She might bombard me with her words, the chains of her mood might snap owing to the lack of sleep, but none happened, rather; She sent me a picture of her orange coloured coffee mug, telling me She was feeling fresh as a daisy, the caffeine trick had worked. She had caught up on a movie that was planned for a long time, She could focus on training at the gym and She wasn’t suffering from the early morning blues at work. The saving grace being something black.
It had then become a routine of sorts, a cup of black coffee (I did away with my espresso compulsion) and cigarettes and conversations. Caffeine, Cribbing and She would get along like a house on fire, it would warm my soul too. Her eyes, the dimly lit cafe and conversations. I can still smell her fragrance, the aroma of the coffee and the smoke of the fags. As, I write this piece it’s the black coffee at work, bringing her back to me, no shades of white or grey, all black and all dark and still beautiful.
P.S: She was dressed in black too, my memories just won’t fade. Coffee at work!!
abhishek purkayastha 