THE COFFEE STAIN (Short)

Every day at exactly 11.00 am he would sit at the corner table of his favourite Irani Café and read the morning paper while sipping on a hot cup of coffee. It was a ritual he never missed for the past 40 years.

  The cup would stay idle, steam pouring out of it as if trying escape from something. Then his hand would come, firmly grasping the handle of the cup which would then go up to meet his lips.

  The first few sips are just for checking if the coffee is of the right temperature. If not, he will carefully place it on the table, leaving behind a stain which never is at the same place.

  At 12.30 pm he leaves the café, the newspaper carefully tucked under his right arm.

  After he has left, the cleaner comes up to clear his table, picks up the coffee cup and proceeds to clean the stain.

  It’s always that same spot, the same stain, thinks the cleaner as he wipes away all traces of the table being occupied before.

  However, getting rid of years and years worth of coffee stains is not easy, with many cleaners before him already having given up on cleaning it, and he too does the same.

  The next day he comes back at his usual time, only though this time, it’s not the warm cup of coffee or the waiter that greets him, but locked doors and a notice that says ‘Closed’.

  Others, who had come before him, were making their way back, mumbling about how this was bound to happen, the owner dead, no one to take over the business.

  Though he didn’t show it, but from the inside he was overcome by grief, as if a part connected to him was just broken off.

  As he made his way back home, wondering what he will do from now on, a familiar scent made him glance at the corner.

  He walked towards that scent, which started to grow stronger as he came nearer.

  The origin of the scent was from an old café that seemed totally out of place, in a locality surrounded by new and plush eateries.

  He stepped inside the café, which reminded him a lot about a similar one he had once visited with his dad, but was unable to recall when.

  Once inside, his sight went to the old man sitting the counter and towards the vintage radio that soothingly played music from an era gone by.

  He sat in the corner near to the counter and asked for a cup of coffee from the ageing waiter, who nodded and went inside the kitchen.

  The waiter came back with a cup that eerily resembled the one he used to drink from at the Irani Café. He brushed off the thought admitting that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

  After he was done, he got up, made his payment and left, while the waiter went over to clean the table, unaware that the coffee stain he left behind will never be erased.

THE END

The Snoring Doesn't Start Until 11

As the famous saying goes, it's not the destination but the journey that matters.

Travelling to any place in India by the Indian Railways is something one has to experience at least once in their life.

For me it has been the primary mode of travelling, whether I was visiting my relatives or going to a new place.

I've travelled by flight as well, but the things that you get to see on an overnight train journey is totally incomparable to the experience of flying.
Yes flying is comfortable... sometimes... well, unless you're travelling first class.
And it does save a lot of time too, but on the downside, it punches a big hole in your wallet.
As a kid, I used to eagerly await the day my family took our annual trip during my vacation.
It meant travelling all the way to Mumbai Central, in a taxi of course, getting a glimpse of the iconic Maratha Mandir cinema and entering the gates of the station where amidst all the greenery, a toy engine greeted you.
It's a scene that has been imprinted in my mind over the years and is one of the few things that I'll never forget.
Those were the times when people used to check their reservation number on the chart hung up at the platform, instead of their smart phones.
And I always hoped ours was there too, because, honestly I thought it would be such a downer to come all the way, only to find out our seats weren't confirmed. 
I dreaded that I wouldn't get to sleep on a bed and instead would be made to sleep on the floor of the train.
Obviously that never happened, but the thought of it still scared my 10-12 year old self. 
The thing about travelling on these trains for me as a kid meant that, it wasn't a train that took you from point A to point B.
It was about bringing out my inner Indiana Jones and set on exploring the whole train.
I remember always darting ahead to our seat where my spot always lied near the window and dare anyone else who sat there.
The journey also came with certain perks for me, like:
Getting a whole bottle of water to myself, though I knew I'd never drink it all, but I also knew that no one else could drink from it too.
Anxiously waiting for the evening snacks to come and finishing it all off, without leaving any for later. 
Then drinking the tea/coffee, again as a kid there were few instances when you could drink 'adult' drinks like these, and this was one of them. 
After all that was done, I would set out to explore the train.
I wanted to see how far I could go, and at times I would get pretty far enough to forget my way back. 
Around 8 O'clock, I would be munching on bread-sticks followed by warm soup. 
At nine, dinner was served and I tried my best to finish the whole thing, only to see myself give up after having half of it.
Then ice-cream would come and despite my stomach being way too full, I'd manage to finish it as fast as I could.
Once the whole thing was done, then came the time to sleep, and boy did I love sleeping on these beds.
You see these weren't your ordinary bunk beds, they didn't have normal ladders, but what they did have was metal bars, welded on the corners of the seat to form a ladder for one to access the upper berths.
And pretty much everyone who has ever travelled in these trains as a kid, knew they weren't just ladders, instead they were a platform to show-off our acrobatic skills.
I loved sleeping in the upper berth, which was like a totally different world, cut off from the rest.
Though now, I prefer the much comfortable middle one and hate the thought of climbing any further up.
The lights usually were out by 10:30 and by 11 everyone was fast asleep.
Now as kids there were certain things that didn't bother us or probably we didn't give a damn, but as adults its a totally different story altogether.
One of those things were, snoring.
It didn't bother me as a kid, but as the years added on, it kinda did.
And there's a huge difference between snoring in one's home and snoring in a train.
When you're sleeping at home and you snore, it's obvious to others that you're the one snoring.
In a train, you have no idea, is it the guy above you or the lady opposite you or someone else in the next seat.
I for one at times, didn't have an idea whether it was someone snoring or actually growling in their sleep.
Snoring probably isn't a bad thing, but when you're travelling in a train overnight, its pretty much the only sound you get to hear, apart from the chugging sound of the train as it moves.
And for some reasons unknown, the sound of snoring in a train is amplified to the point you hope that sleep comes to you faster.
I already have some difficulties falling asleep faster, unless I'm really tired then I doze off instantly.
The thing is that at night while I'm in my bed, trying to get some shut-eye, it's the exact time when my brain decides to wake up and question the mysteries of life, universe and everything beyond.
But even in the train, those questions would get interrupted by all that snoring reverberating around me.  
Did it help in keeping my brain from questioning my existence?
Yes.
Did it help in letting me get some sleep?
No.
Did I ever sleep in the end?
Yes, though I don't know how.
Anyways, then morning would come and all those sleepy heads would rise, not by any alarm but by the aroma emanating from the morning cup of tea handed to them by the server.
I would look at all these faces, trying to figure out how the heck could these people sleep so soundly, whereas I, throughout the whole night tried to block their noises just so I could doze off.
After the morning ritual, it took just a few hours of wait until our destination would arrive.
Then came the signal from my mom and dad to start getting our luggage out, meaning we've reached the station.
The younger me, used to feel happy to reach the place and sad too, because it would be a whole week when I'd get to travel in it again.
However now, all I want is that journey to get over and hope that the week could somehow extend to more than just seven days. 

Been There, Done What?

In this world, there are two kinds of people.
The first one are the achievers.
The second one are the whiners.
The achievers are the kind of people who would do anything to reach the top.
For them being first means everything.
Getting ranked second or below isn't acceptable.
They put all their efforts, overcome hardships, sacrifice few things, etc. in their pursuit of excellence.
They don't back-down and if they are going to lose, they don't do it without putting up a strong fight.
The case is totally different with the whiners.
The whiners are the ones who don't put in any effort to reach the top.
In fact, they've pretty much given up chasing it, without even taking the first step.
Their minds are made up with the fact that they are gonna lose, and that's what happens in the end.
And then they start whining.
The people they hate: The Achievers.
The only reason being, that they are achievers.
They aren't alone.
It takes one to start whining and then before you know it almost all are.
Always citing things like, 'the achiever was shown favoritism', or that 'the achiever comes from a family of means' or that 'the achiever possibly "bribed" the authorities to reach the top'.
They aren't afraid of voicing their opinion, cause they know some idiot will listen to them and believe their so called bullshit.
Sound stupid, right?
The scary part is that, these people exist in real life.
I'm not talking about school kids.
The ones I'm talking about are, people with actual jobs.
It also includes the ones who are unemployed.
If the whiners exist, so would the achievers right?
Yes, they do and despite the arrogance they show, when they're around, it completely changes to something else at work.
These kinds of people are incredible and unfortunately they are rare.
You might have one working in your company or it could possibly be you.
But if you know them, it's better to start learning from them, if you too hope of becoming like them.
In this blog, I'm not gonna talk much about the achievers, cause their work speaks for itself.
I'm calling out all those whiners, who didn't do shit to make their life better and now actively voice their opinions against the achievers.
Being the whiners they are, the things that they whine about doesn't necessarily has to be related to them in anyway.
It's just that, they want to take out the frustrations of their failures at others. 
Let's take the example of our nation's only sport according to them. Cricket.
Whenever India lost a match, despite giving their all, these whiners would be the first one to show up.
They'd pelt stones at the homes of these cricketers.
It didn't matter to them if they hurt any family members residing there.
They just had to do it.
They'd also burn their effigies to show how much they hate them.
Make tall claims as to how better they are at playing that sport than the ones playing it.
To them it was as if losing a game was equal to committing a heinous crime.
And if India won the next game, they would start making statues of the players and start worshiping them.
What a bunch of hypocrites. 
If any of these whiners had to spend a day training like the sportsmen do, I doubt any of them would last the entire day.
They'd simply give up or state that it's not their job.
Meanwhile, the Indian Cricket team would be busy preparing for their next game.
Trying to rectify all the mistakes they made in the last match and perform better in the next.
That's what differentiates an achiever from a whiner.
This holds true in almost every situation.
Take Advertising for example.
In the advertising world, if you or your agency makes ads, that win almost each award out there and is loved by all, everyone would hold you in high regards.
You and your agency would be the talk everywhere.
Clients would beg you to make ads for them.
But.
But... If the next ad that you make fails to deliver, then that's it.
You might as well forget the invitations to the famous parties in town.
Cause no one will forget that ad and you.
The worst part is, everyone will know you by that ad.
It doesn't matter how great of an Ideator you are.
To them, you simply would look like an Idiot.
And there's nothing you can do about it.
Now coming to Politics.
I don't have an opinion about politicians of our country, because I don't follow them at all.
And I don't intend to do so in the future as well.
From what I've observed, the thing about politicians is that, good politicians don't come in groups.
There are certain exceptional individuals who are better.
But as individuals, they are powerless.
Even if they do have a strong hold over others, the voice of the whiners is loud enough to drown out any support they have.
It's a shame.Apart from the whiners, another worse lot are the criticizers.
They have one job and it's something that hardly takes them any effort to do.
Criticize.
I'm not talking about movie critics.
These special bunch of criticizers, only have hate for everything.
From criticizing the late arrival of public transport to population, education, pollution, etc.
Basically every cause that doesn't need their opinion.
They force it down the throats of everyone who gets their attention.If you ask them what have they done to make the situation better.
They probably won't have the answer to it.These are the people that compare how other countries are making themselves better and how ours isn't.
Hell, if they had the opportunity to make that country better, they would go there in a heartbeat.
Doing the same thing for our country would seem shameful to them.
The best thing one can do is to contribute.
Be it from social work or just show up at work.
Cause no matter what kind of work you do, it does have a positive impact on others.
Whether you repair shoes at a small shop or try to fix the economy at your high level job.
The results will show, even if they aren't immediate, even if it won't benefit you.
It will benefit someone, give them a better future to live in.
How else do you think we got our Independence?
Definitely not because of someone who was whining over why we aren't getting Independence.
But because someone was fighting hard, day and night to make it possible. 

A Trip Down Memory Lane

When we are kids, going on a trip with our families is the most exciting thing ever for us.

The joy of discovering a new place.

Trying out the local cuisine.
Staying in a hotel.

It all seems like fun.

I too went on these trips with my family in my childhood.

Most often, accompanied with my cousins and their family.

Other times, it was just the four of us.

My first trip was to Goa (unless my mom and dad took me elsewhere).

At a time when Goa wasn't the most happening place.

I don't even remember going on that trip.

I just know it from the pictures that I have seen.

I have also never been to an overseas trip.

I guess, I'll go when the opportunity comes up.

The places I did go to were mostly hill-stations.

Matheran, Khandala, Lonavala, Mahabaleshwar, etc. to name a few.

The southernmost place I've visited was Tirupati.

I don't exactly remember it, but again from the pics, I could see it wasn't my favorite place at all.

The northernmost place I've visited was Vaishnodevi.  

And I remember that trip vividly, going all the way to the top of the mountain the whole day, just to glimse the shrine for a few precious moments and then come down again.
Visiting the Taj Mahal was pretty much the highlight of all the trips I've taken.

I guess the last time I went on a trip with my family was to Rajasthan when I was in college.

After that, what all trips I've been to, were just for visiting relatives or attending marriages.

I guess that's what happens when you grow up.

As a kid, you feel thrilled at the mention of the word vacation and can't wait to go to one.

When you get older though, the trips with your family becomes less frequent.

It gets replaced by trips with your friends.

Which is even more fun, as there are no parents to tell you what not to eat and when to sleep.

But you do have to take the responsibility of your belongings and go easy on the money.

Well... it's all worth the risk.

The thing is, these trips are what fill our childhood with the experience of the outside world.
The bubble that we live in, expands once we visit a place we've never been too.
Filling our minds with curiosity about things like, 'why the statue is facing that way' or 'how did the monkey get in our backyard'.
When you visit the same place as an adult, you already know the answers to these questions and you don't even bother to ask some more.
That changes everything.
But that's also what makes it a memory worth remembering.

Once Upon A Novel

I love reading books.

I've been reading them from the moment I learnt to read and will keep on, until I run out of books to read.

That obviously, will never happen.

When we are kids, picture books are what we all love to read.

I too liked them, until I started reading novels at my sister's place.

Obviously, an eight year old wouldn't understand most of the words that go into making that novel.

But I did... sorta.

Even at the school library, when kids my age would opt for picture books, I would pick a novel, Hardy Boys to be exact.

At one time, the librarian asked me, "Can you finish that novel?".

I nodded to her and said "yes", in my soft childish tone.

I liked hearing stories as well.

I remember pestering my grandmother to recite few whenever I felt bored.

The story I always asked for: The Little Red Riding Hood.

It kinda was my favorite too.

Even at the library I would read this book.

I had become so familiar with the story that I could finish reading the book faster than my other classmates.

This one time, the librarian had said that anyone who finishes their book before the bell, has to recite the story to her.

The book I picked: The Little Red Riding Hood.

And I recited the whole story to the librarian, kinda like how my grandma would.

I didn't feel embarrassed or anything, and went back to my seat, while the rest of the class looked at me, impressed.

That's the thing with being a kid, you're never embarrassed even if you do the most stupidest shit.

I continued reading till I started high school. 

And a lot of things changed.

At high school, my reading habit had literally died.

Until, I came across Harry Potter.

My whole world changed after that.

To me Harry Potter was more than an obsession.  

I read the same book again and again, never getting bored.

For the first time in my life, I felt the need to write my own story and not just read a book.

I also started using my imagination for making up stories.

I did attempt writing some stories but failed to complete it.

So what if I couldn't write a story, the best thing that I found out about myself was that I liked to write.

During the Harry Potter years, I read other novels too.

But in the end I would still come back to Harry Potter, because it was that great.

Once Harry Potter had ended, the spark that it had lit in me had kindled a fire.

Though that fire was small, it was still burning, craving for more books to read, stuff to write about, yada yada yada...

As my journey started in the Advertising world, reading books became a ritual for me.

It started with books on Advertising, then went to complete fiction.

Nowadays, that's what I do, apart from playing guitar and writing the occasional blog.

I feel that books are to writers, what practice is to musicians and professionals in their field of work.

The more you read, the more you're able to write.

And now, I even have the means to fund this habit of mine.

I spend a small part of my equally small income in buying a book.

And unlike most of the occasional readers who prefer reading books written by a popular author, I do the opposite.

I go to the bookstore, browse through authors, find a name I'm unfamiliar with, and that's what I will be reading throughout the week.

I don't have a favorite genre, if it's something that piques my interest, then I'll pick it up.

I also prefer reading an actual book rather than from a Kindle.

While reading an E-book is good for the environment, nothing can compare to the feeling of opening a new book, smelling it and reading it in the comfort of your home. 

Plus you have to keep on recharging your Kindle reader. A thing that you'll never have to do to your book.

If you'd ask me about when I plan on writing my own book. 

I honestly, don't know if I'd ever. 

Like any other writer out there, I too have a dream of writing one.

But I'm in no hurry, I'll wait till I get even better with my writing and then try my hand at it.

Till then, reading a nice novel would do well for me.

Feast Of (Junk) Food

I have something to admit.

I love fast food.

I love it more than the food my mom makes.

It's not like she makes bad food, its just that I prefer eating food that does me more harm than good.

As far as I remember, my first exposure to American fast food began with McDonald's.

Before that, I had no clue what a burger tasted or looked like.

And McDonald's was all the craze when it opened here.

Before McDonald's, if you went to an Indian restaurant thinking they served fast food, you'd have to come back disappointed because their version of fast food was, 'the food that people have when they fasted'.

I didn't care whether they were good or bad, I just cared for the toy that came with their Happy Meal.

And I had an awesome collection, which by now must be rotting in some dump-yard somewhere.

To me, McDonald's was the ideal image of how a burger should look like.

It all changed when I went to an american themed diner and tried their burger.

That's when I found out that McDonald's was nowhere close to how an actual burger should taste like.

I had forgotten that their objective was not to bring delicious burgers, but to sell people their version of an american delicacy.

But thanks to them burgers were all the range at many Indian households.

Even at my home, I tried making a burger once, all I needed was a burger bun, an aloo tikki, some mayo and it was done.

It did not taste the way a burger should taste like.

And after that I swore I would never make one at home again.

The homemade burger was the parents version of "why eat outside? we'll make one at home".

I guess it was some kind of challenge by McD to the parents on "Who can make the most shitty burger ever, you or us?"

The parents took the bait, and McD won.

All was going well for McDonald's until KFC dropped by.

And again people were surprised.

"Till now we all were used to eating tandoori chicken, so what's with this fried chicken thing? and why does it taste really good?".

Soon a whole new bunch of American fast food joints came up and McDonald's became just another name in the fast food industry.

Nowadays the popularity of fast food has risen to the point where all of them attempt to replicate their version of local dishes.

Though in India, thanks to the large population of rabbit food lovers, they just change their whole menu but not without adding one Indian dish to it.

Basically, its just a really spicy version of their dish, and has an Indianised name to it.

Now if you've lived in India for quite a long time, you know that Indian cuisine isn't all about spicy food, there's sour, there's sweet, there's also I-don't-know-what-the-hell-was-that, etc.

But what do they know, eh?

I mean, if I'm going to an American fast food joint, I want to experience what their food tastes like and not 'what our food would taste like if we put it in a bun'.

We have rotis for that and they do a far better job.

Well, no matter what they do or don't one thing's for sure:

I'll never stop eating fast food.

Summer Daze

The best part of everyone's childhood is their summer vacations.
A whole month of freedom, watching the tube, playing with friends, gaming and going out on a trip with the whole family.
It's the only time of the year when you get to really be a kid and be away from all the responsibilities.
In fact, the only thing that I liked about my childhood was my summer vacations.
I used to spend the whole day outside home playing with my friends, then coming back late only play at home again.
And that yearly trip to Delhi with my family, only a few times did my dad tag along, otherwise it was just me, my brother and my mom.
It was fun too, visiting different places, playing in the garden with my brother, meeting relatives whom at times I wouldn't recognize, etc.
My vacations actually ended when I came back home to Mumbai.
Then there was the ritual of buying new text books.
It was the only time that I was actually happy to see and read those books.
I ignored them until the day of my exams.
Just like any normal kid would do. 
When I started college, the summer vacations got a different meaning and purpose.
It wasn't the same old - play games, have fun and do nothing type holidays.
It was the 'now start planning for your future and join a course' vacation.
Even my trips to Delhi became shorter.
In fact, my trips to Delhi changed from summer to winter.
It was a huge mistake.
Let me explain:
If you've lived you're whole life in the blazing heat and the only exposure to cold was just a breeze passing by, then you haven't actually seen what cold is actually like.
And Delhi cold is something that I wasn't even prepared for.
Most of the time I would just lay under a bundle of blankets and try not to shiver.
The only time I went out was when the sun came out, and it did for a short time in the afternoon.
Later, my college also got over.
How fast the time went by, I didn't even notice, and then here I was doing my post graduation. 
Once that was over, I had only a few weeks of free time.
It was my last summer vacation and the feeling hadn't sunk in yet.
And it sucked, knowing that in a few weeks I'll have to start looking for a job and make a living.
I didn't want to, I yearned for my childhood to come back whereas my mom screamed at me to get a job.
So I did.
Now that I am working, and am gonna spend my whole life doing that. I've come to respect and enjoy the two precious days in my life which I didn't give a damn about in the past.
Weekends.
Without them, my life would just have been mundane and without purpose.