A Coffee House story
Fans whirring ,spread the heat evenly
Long steel tables,colorful plastic chairs
Hustle , bustle
Men in their office shirts , sweaty
Open at the collar
Women with big plastic baskets, cloth bags
Vegetables for dinner
Fanning themselves with the end of their saris
Children squirming in their seats
Waiters, pencils behind the ears,
With trays ,dirty dish cloth at the hip
Idli, Vada , Bonda , Dosa rent the air
As they recite the menu at top speed
Two filter kaapis ,shouted to the kitchen
Steel tumblers slop water on the tables
Kaapi arrives in steel tumblers, davaras
Piping hot
Sipped noisily , clink of rings on steel
A constant whirlwind of activity
A disheveled boy in rags
Sidles up to the entrance
Eyes on the colorful jars full of goodies
Near the counter
Customers who notice ,quickly avert their eyes
A waiter flicks his dish cloth at him
He moves out of range of this taunt
But hovers around , an ingratiating smile
Satisfied bellies pay,leave
Brisk legs carry out voices
Complaining about work
Chattering groups enter, leave
A buzz of constant movement
Hungry eyes wait
A lone man, in rather dirty shirt
Scrounges up change
From his empty worn wallet to pay
For his own kaapi , and a sticky bun
For the little boy
That all see
That all try to ignore.
--shubha
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