COFFEE HOUSE

“One coffee, please”

“You mean to say…cappuccino? Right”           

“Oh!!! Whatever looks and tastes like the Coffee your mother used to make, get me that…understood”           

“Alright…sir” 

The waiter went off with an irritated air after receiving the order from this peculiar oldie. 

Sitting at the latest hangout for the young generation, the “Steam Chamber, Coffee Bar”, Dr. Prashant Kumar Roy thus placed the order for a simple cup of coffee with the above authority. At sixty-five years of age, this was his first experience of the so-called Coffee bars, now predominant in the city of Kolkata. 

Others of his own age have often commented to his regarding the growing trend and craze of the current younger generation for spending so much and freaking out at these kinds of places, wasting their time aimlessly. They were a hopeless bunch of human beings. Yet, Dr. Prashant Kumar Roy had never believed in blaming anyone, he trusted in the fact that the younger generation should define the patterns of the society, so that it can change for the better. Elders are always there to guide, but not to define. 

Having received the ongoing comments from his grandson, Aditya, “Hey Grandpa, the days of your age old College Street Coffee House are over, this is the new generation of high voltage Coffee Bars, you must try to visit one someday…” Dr. Prashant wanted to have a look at this new craze in town. Thus he landed up one evening at the “Steam Chamber, Coffee Bar”. 

Entering into the sophisticated atmosphere, Prashant felt a keen sense of seclusion among the crowd. He was half-a-century behind them; Prashant realized. Sitting at a corner table Prashant placed the order. He has never been so much confused in ordering a simple cup of coffee. There were so many varieties and names floating all around. He was in an utter soup. And hence the words came out … “Oh!!! Whatever looks and tastes like the Coffee your mother used to make, get me that…understood” 

This job completed, Prashant momentarily took a peep at his car parked outside, just to check whether in case any youngster was sitting upon its bonnet. Then he sat, took a deep breath and looked around himself. 

Around him was a sophisticated lounge, with glass walls, small tables, chairs, a few sofas, enlightened from above by the glare of dazzling lights, and the temperature made soothing by the aide of the centralized air-conditioner. 

“Indeed times have changed”, Prashant told himself.

The young crowd dressed in branded clothing from Nike and Reebok gathered in clusters of friends, were all over the place. Everyone was busy sending each other funny SMS or sharing some latest tracks on an iPod. Somewhere a couple was sitting together in a sofa flirting with each other. The center of discussion being patriotism administered via “Rang De Basanti”, the techno beats of the popular song “Roobaroo”, or perhaps the ethereal love of Raj and Simran of “Dilwaale Dulhaniya Le Jayege”.  

Prashant felt that he was so near yet so away from this place, this crowd. They were like his children, his grandchildren, yet a gap was so very persistent. 

The cappuccino was served. Prashant looked at the steaming and floating liquid. It had the similarity with the Coffee he loved at the College Street Coffee House, an asset of the city of Kolkata. Only the cup, the ambiance and the packaging have changed, the core – the Coffee – is just the same. Prashant thought in his own mind. 

Prashant closed his eyes, and flashes of memories appeared in front of his closed eyes. Flashes of fresh images of his college days took shape once again. The days, the hot afternoons and cool evenings spent at the College Street Coffee House at the first floor of the nondescript building at the College Street; A place for friends to gather, a place to sing “Coffee house er shei adda ta aaj aar nei” (the famous Bengali song by the singing maestro Shri. Manna Dey).  It has been the place to sit and wait for the waiter to arrive 15 minutes late and server the coffee even 30 minutes late; a place to sit and brood over the dream lady “Ruby Ray” …. A place to love the boredom – that is what defines the spirit of the Coffee House. 

Faces of Ashim, Ranjan, and Anita, all appeared in front of his eyes. Prashant was immersed in this nostalgia. Yes, the Coffee house was where he first met Radha, the girl with mischievous eyes and lovely dimples, with whom he fell in love in the shabby atmosphere of the Coffee House with its long hanging electric-fans and wooden tables. Radha his wife…he smiled to himself. 

Yes, the Coffee has so many memories associated to an entire life, Prashant was mesmerized with the impact it had in his own. 

Opening his eyes, Prashant drank the cappuccino. Looking around he realized that times have changed, but people remain the same, their needs remain the same, their world remains the same. Metamorphosis is the general principle of nature. But the soul remains the same. The tadpole metamorphoses into a frog, but the life, the soul it has remains unaltered.  Prashant felt it deep within.

“Coffee house er shei adda ta aaj aar nei” had metamorphosed into “Roobaroo”. 

“Ruby Ray” has metamorphosed into “Simran”.  

And every Prashant has metamorphosed into Aditya. However, their needs have remained the same. 

The wooden tables have changed into polished Glass ones. 

The dilapidated walls and lights have changed into techno-designs. And the long hanging electric-fans have unknowingly modified into air conditioners. 

The “Coffee House” has metamorphosed into “Steam Chamber, Coffee Bar”, yet the spirit goes on. 

Change is the only unchanging thing in this world. 

“It’s so very true”, Prashant realized within. 

He didn’t feel bad, he didn’t want to blame the young generation for not liking the “Coffee House”, nor could he blame his own generations, the likes of his own self, for disliking the “Steam Chamber, Coffee Bar”. 

 Just like a tadpole and a frog, a cocoon and a butterfly differ from one another, and the need of one another. So does the two generations. Both are correct in their own manners, both are correct in their own places. They fit well in their respective areas only.

Having finished his cappuccino, Prashant came out after paying the bill and got into his car. He then drove calmly towards College Street. Having reached the place, he slowed down. In the night at 10:30pm, Prashant could see the old, office building like structure, on whose first-floor stood to this day the famous “Coffee House”, with which so many have so much of memories associated. He felt a sense of belonging to this area, to the dilapidated walls of this aging structure, something that Aditya won’t feel here and he, Prashant, won’t feel at the “Steam Chamber, Coffee Bar”. They are different; in a manner coffee is different from cappuccino.

Prashant came out of his car after parking it beside the footpath and looking up at the Coffee House building, spoke to it in a manner he never did before.

“Times may change, people may change, their tastes may change but your true spirit would live on forever, maybe in diverse forms and shapes, but the spirit can never perish.”

“Coffee House, you will go on, you must go on. Every generations needs you, ever generation seeks you in its own way”.