Coffee With Karan
He was 42. Single too and perhaps destined to remain so. The grey that was spreading across his balding pate and the curve below his midriff was making it difficult to get someone to share his life with. While bachelorhood had never rely bothered him earlier, it did now. He yearned for companionship – someone to talk to. His aging parents often went off on religious trips and the empty house that he came home to after work was gnawing at the corners of his empty heart. There was someone he liked at work, but she seemed oblivious of his existence.
His name was Karan – named by his mother who had nurtured a crush on a European looking rising star of the 70s. However, unlike his namesake, he was quiet and ordinary. He earned well but failed miserably when it came to churning out something to fill his stomach. He did however, know how to make some fantastic filter coffee.
It was a cold winter evening. The mercury had settled at around 14 degrees and he was winding up after work. Just as he strode out of his cubicle, he noticed her desperately trying to get an Uber cab. He paused. He was a thorough gentleman and could never leave a lady in distress to fend for herself.
“Some problem?” he asked.
She looked up at him with troubled eyes. “I am not getting a cab. I need to pick up something for my mother from Park Street, before returning home.”
“Well, that’s pretty close to my place. May I give you a lift?”
She looked at him a little hesitantly, glanced at her phone and nodded.
His heart leapt for joy. The lady had finally noticed him. His mother’s prayers at the Sri Gneelivanesvarar Temple just may have started working.
They spoke little in the car but she seemed to appreciate the music he played.
“I live here,” he indicated to the tall building in a lane. “Why don’t you drop in? You could meet my parents too.”
It took a few moments to convince her but his charm worked. Ten minutes later, she was on the couch in his living room, talking to his parents.
“I will make some coffee,” he declared and disappeared into the kitchen.
She seemed impressed. A man who comes home from work and prepares coffee is rare to find.
He had an exhilarating time in the kitchen. The brown decoction that cascaded into the creamy milk had never seemed more divine. He swirled it with a spoon, tasted it and sighed. He hoped she liked it.
She did. She loved it in fact and before the evening ended, she was smiling dreamily at her coffee and then at him. He was ecstatic.
He dropped her home that day and soon after, every day. Winter melted into a heady, romantic summer.
A year and many coffees later, they returned home together one night, amidst a shower of blessings and lived happily ever after.