Cold coffee - coffee stories
She checked her little purse
Just enough for some cold coffee
Saved industriously over the week
Riding the bus over hiring a rickshaw
From college
She could picture the tall glass
Ice cream on top
The glass,frosting from the ice
Rivulets of desire
Running tantalizingly by the side
She was salivating
Just the thing on a hot afternoon
After class , chatting with her friend
She noticed the guy, a student activist
Typically dressed
Kurta, Khadi jacket , cloth bag
The stern intensity of purpose
She typically gave them a wide berth
He approached them pamphlets in hand,
Orissa famine relief fund it screamed
In bold letters over the photo
Of a starving child
Can you contribute? , he demanded
Sorry, no money , mumbled her friend
He seemed disappointed, trifle disgusted
As he turned away
Something about the round, wide eyes of the child
Staring out of the thin face
Smote her heart , seemed to demand her action
No matter how small
Hey, just a minute she called
Opening up her purse
Tipping its' entire contents into his surprised hand
A smile melted his frowning countenance
She returned to her friend who was shaking her head
They ask for contributions all the time , said her friend dismissively
As soon as he was out of earshot
Your money will probably be used
For printing the next set of pamphlets
Pinpricks of doubt rose ready to burst
The happy bubble growing within her breast
Had she foolishly,impulsively
Contributed to more cacophony
During the student body elections?
She prayed her money
Would find it's way as grain
To a hungry mouth
And laid the pin of doubt to rest
So you won't be joining us at the cafe? ,
Asked her friend briskly
Suddenly business like
She shook her head
On her walk home
She stopped by the water fountain
And slurped the clear, cold drink thirstily
It wasn't cold coffee
But surprisingly, just as satisfying.
--shubha
She checked her little purse
Just enough for some cold coffee
Saved industriously over the week
Riding the bus over hiring a rickshaw
From college
She could picture the tall glass
Ice cream on top
The glass,frosting from the ice
Rivulets of desire
Running tantalizingly by the side
She was salivating
Just the thing on a hot afternoon
After class , chatting with her friend
She noticed the guy, a student activist
Typically dressed
Kurta, Khadi jacket , cloth bag
The stern intensity of purpose
She typically gave them a wide berth
He approached them pamphlets in hand,
Orissa famine relief fund it screamed
In bold letters over the photo
Of a starving child
Can you contribute? , he demanded
Sorry, no money , mumbled her friend
He seemed disappointed, trifle disgusted
As he turned away
Something about the round, wide eyes of the child
Staring out of the thin face
Smote her heart , seemed to demand her action
No matter how small
Hey, just a minute she called
Opening up her purse
Tipping its' entire contents into his surprised hand
A smile melted his frowning countenance
She returned to her friend who was shaking her head
They ask for contributions all the time , said her friend dismissively
As soon as he was out of earshot
Your money will probably be used
For printing the next set of pamphlets
Pinpricks of doubt rose ready to burst
The happy bubble growing within her breast
Had she foolishly,impulsively
Contributed to more cacophony
During the student body elections?
She prayed her money
Would find it's way as grain
To a hungry mouth
And laid the pin of doubt to rest
So you won't be joining us at the cafe? ,
Asked her friend briskly
Suddenly business like
She shook her head
On her walk home
She stopped by the water fountain
And slurped the clear, cold drink thirstily
It wasn't cold coffee
But surprisingly, just as satisfying.
--shubha
