The Coffee House: A Happy TImes - Essay Example

The Coffee House Oh! What would we have not given for a cup of coffee from The Coffee House! The aroma of freshly roasted and ground seeds, the steamcoming from the freshly brewed decoction; the creamy, frothy coffee was enough to intoxicate any coffee lover. My friends and I simply loved it. The Coffee House was our favourite haunt during our college days. It was the unwritten word that whenever we had anything to discuss, anything to plan or simply meet each other after a long time, we would do that at The Coffee House. A few friends would come there after their football sessions, a few nerdy ones from the library and yet some more directly from the classes. The waiters in their sparkling white uniforms were always cheerful; waving at us the moment we entered. They knew each person’s favourite flavour: if it was Mocha for the rest of my friends, they knew Rita and I loved it black. The soft lighting, the muted music and the relaxed atmosphere was enough to ease our jangled nerves after the long lectures. The waiters would not hover over us, expecting us to order snacks or accompaniments, but stand unobtrusively in the background, happy to oblige whenever one of us had enough pocket money to treat the rest to sandwiches. Yes, we were very frugal in those days, we had to be: after all, it was Mom-Dad’s money. The manager was a wonderful person, who remembered each of our names and would even help us earn some pocket money by working there in our free time. Yes, The Coffee House was a truly exotic place. Happy times leave happy memories. The happiest moment of my life was when sitting by the window table, I proposed to Rita over a cup of coffee. I had my own fears and doubts. I would have been shattered if she had refused. I knew she liked me, but was not sure if she liked me enough to spend the rest of her life with me. Both of us were just taking up our first jobs in the coming month and I felt that was the right time to ask her. The still remember the startled look in her eyes when in true a gentleman’s style, I fell on my knees and asked her if she would spend the rest of her life with me. With George Michael playing in the background, it felt just the right thing to do. She had a soft smile on her lips, a twinkle in her eyes and the setting sun was falling on her face, making her blush. Bashfully, she looked deep into my eyes and whispered “yes.” Shouts of “Whoa!”, “Bravo,” “Yippee” and catcalls filled the place. Our friends were sitting across the room and were ecstatic too. The Manager made the moment special by serving a cake (that was on the house). It was just a fairy-tale setting and life just seemed too good at that moment. Rita and I got married, moved to a bigger city and forgot all about The Coffee House. Mounting work pressures, family demands and children clamouring for our attention had kept us on our toes and we had come eleven long years and fifteen hundred miles away from The Coffee House. Through a twist of fate, I was transferred to the same town in the twelfth year of our marriage. The first thing I could associate with the place oter than our college was The Coffee House. As I would be alone for four months till the children and Rita joined me after the school term was over, I had planned to stay in the company guest house and look for accommodation over the weekends. The minute I checked into the guest house, I asked the Manager about The Coffee House. He looked at me in a strange way and muttered something to himself. I did not take notice and walked down the lane and took a cab to The Coffee House. I was surprised to find a flashy, place with a neon signboard outside it. There were dark glass doors instead of the wooden flush doors we had been accustomed to. The place was not only a Coffee House now, but to cater to a larger crowd, had been converted to a bar and a discotheque. High stools with fancy glass tables had replaced simple and neat chairs and tables. The waitresses were dressed in short skirts; flashy stage lights and soft music had replaced the soft lighting by heavy metal. I wondered if I had reached the wrong place. There was the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat everywhere. There seemed to be drugs and other dubious activities also going on in the place. Drunken brawls appeared to be commonplace now. Gone was the sweet aroma of coffee; gone was the sweet memories lingering in the back of my mind. Ugh, this was not the place we had cherished. I was happy that I was alone and Rita was not with me. It would have broken her heart to see The Coffee House turned into a Disco! What a pain! With a heavy heart, I walked back to my Guest House. I realized why the Manager at the guest house had given the strange look when I had enquired about the Coffee House. There had been a change in the management four years back and the new management wanted to cater to the needs to the new generation. Four months just flew by and the family joined me by January 2007.I had fixed up a flat in a good locality, close to the schools and our workplaces. Rita too was shocked to hear about the changes in The Coffee House, but wanted to see it for herself. One fateful Sunday afternoon, we decided to just have a look at our beloved Coffee House. The children, Tina and Ray sat in the rear of the car, while Rita and I sat in front. We had almost reached The Coffee House when we heard a load blast. It shook the ground below and the car started rocking. Suddenly a splinter came and hit the rear window. Ray gave out a loud scream and started rubbing his eyes. There was commotion and confusion everywhere. People were falling on each other while trying to rush out of The Coffee House. There had been an explosion, a suspected terrorist attack in our beloved Coffee House. We rushed Ray to the hospital and met an Ophthalmologist. By now, blood had started oozing out of his left socket and his shirt was drenched in blood. Tears were silently rolling down Rita’s face. She was holding them back and trying to be brave. The doctor moved five-year-old Ray to the Operation Theatre, saying there might have been permanent damage to the left eye. Our worst fears were confirmed when after a painful wait of three hours, the doctors confirmed that there was irreversible damage to Ray’s left eye and he would never be able to see with the eye again. It seemed like a nightmare and I just wanted to run. Run away from this town, away from The Coffee House, away from the reality of Ray’s tragedy. Why? Why did it have to be my child? Why did such a terrible thing have to happen in a place that had such wonderful memories associated with it? We later learnt that twenty people had been taken captive by two terrorists and seven were dead in blind firing before the explosions. It was terrible. Read More