Coffee @ MG Road - Part I of II

(image source: www.noblypos.com)

The policeman was visibly ruffled when I asked him for the third time, “Sir, when is this mess going to clear?” The place was Mount Road, Madras on a very rainy day with a couple of trees falling on the road for good measure. A steady stream of vehicles stood, with their drivers looking frantically for an opening in the water filled road. It was like a cloudburst and the city appeared full of water. I started late from office with the thought that the traffic could have got cleared but it was worse. I switched off the engine, having stood at the same place with the air conditioner on for 15 minutes. I should have brought something to munch, I thought. Suddenly, as if on cue, came a peanut seller wading through the water. I bought two paper packets of peanuts for Rs.10 each. Within 10 minutes, only the papers remained. No sign of the traffic moving. Anywhere. I felt bored. The music was on but I was not in a mood to listen. I then glanced at the papers in which the peanuts had been packed. It appeared to be a typed manuscript, a tightly packed one. I started reading.

The Bangalore air was as nippy as ever. In December, it can be at its nippiest best. M G Road, one of the famous roads in Bangalore, was a maze of vehicles, each one trying to pip the other in already snail paced traffic. Then it started. A downpour. Inside the coffee shop, Sandhya was waiting. Rain in December? Well the Bangalore weather has always been so unpredictable, she thought. How long would it take Hari to come?  She had been waiting since 5 pm. It was close to striking 5:30. When she had called him last, he was at Lavelle Road. That was 15 minutes back.  And now this downpour.

‘Should I leave?’, She messaged him on Whatsapp. No reply. He must be in his two wheeler, she thought. Anyway, she also could not go out in this downpour. And the traffic outside on the Friday evening, was typical Bangalore – now the stuff of legend. The waiter was looking at her. He had seen so many such men and women wait for their ‘other’. That is why coffee shops are for. Where else would you pay two hundred bucks for a cup of watery stuff passing off as coffee?

Sandhya’s impatience was understandable. Five more messages. 5: 35 pm. She was bugged, totally. Then, suddenly, a guy entered the coffee shop in a raincoat and carrying a helmet in hand. His trouser was drenched. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for her. Yes, there she was. In the corner – the best seat in the coffee shop. Sandhya sure knows to reserve the best seats, he thought. He waved at her. She was pouting. Through her dusky colour, he could see the red angst filled face. It was further compounded by the fact that he delayed his arrival.

He took a seat opposite her. ‘Did you order anything?’ She gave him a blank look. He understood. Men keep asking these questions even if they know the answers. It is their awkward way of trying to start a conversation. ‘Ok, just a minute’. He went to the self service counter. “Two espressos, please. And cookies.” After five minutes, in what seemed an eternity to the already frustrated Sandhya, he brought the tray to the table. He motioned her to have her cup.

Then she cut loose. A barrage of questions on how long she had to wait and how irresponsible he had been in making her do so. Hari wanted to respond back, saying that the was fine till Lavelle Road after which everything went haywire because of the downpour, but he wisely checked himself.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Anyway, what else can you say in your defence?’, Sandhya continued. She was a stickler for time and rightly so was feeling pissed.

‘You have lived in Bangalore the past three years. You still cannot gauge the traffic and plan, is it?’

‘Well, I don’t have any defence, do I?. It was just beyond my control. Can we not discuss the delay, please?’

(to continue)