At The Coffee Shop #Ishithaa

He came to me, my friend from many years ago. We used to be classmates at some point, drifted apart during the awkward teenage years and eventually got in touch with each other at some point of time. It is almost like some people are meant to stay while some others who we think will always stick around disappear at the slightest sight of turbulence. at the coffee shop

So the friend in question, at the coffee shop tells me how he has been. The introvert in me had tried to negotiate my way and had suggested a typed out conversation with a ping announcing that it was time to communicate; he, however knowing me very well insisted that I meet him at the coffee shop nearest to me and relentlessly drove me up the wall until I gave in.

We chit chat about the time spent together in school, about what happened in each other’s lives when we were not in touch, the normal conversation when friends who have not met each other catch up. Anyone who knows me, knows that I absolutely adore love stories and would listen in rapt attention if only someone had a story to share.

So this friend of mine, who I thought I had all figured out, opens his heart to me revealing the vibrant paintings love had created in him over the course of 36 months. Suddenly, I was looking at this new person, my friend was not this guy, this person sitting in the chair opposite to me was a stranger, yet very familiar to me. He used to be studious, nerdy and someone whose nose was always in some textbook on math or physics.

Who was this person whose pupils widened as he spoke of this girl?

It was such a surprising awakening that this guy who used to have eyes only for formulae and experiments and logic, had lost himself deep in the ocean of love where this woman held the reins, where she was both his savior as well as the biggest threat in his life.

To see it in his eyes, the multiple ways only love could torture the soul was pure bliss. He was a changed man, his eyes shone when he spoke, and there was a strange happiness in his words and mannerisms as if he was high on drugs, gone was the man whom I had once classified as socially awkward.

The biggest reveal was when he whipped out his notebook, one that I instantly thought would be filled with his notes and lectures and other stuff that he held dear.

What stared at me when I flipped through the pages, was poetry. The sheer beauty of the words strung together was extraordinary. It was clear that the man had fallen in love and by the looks of it, his love was his muse.

He calls me his relationship guru, for reasons known only to him. I have to say this though, I am proud of my friend, who took a risk and jumped right into this ocean not knowing how to swim. Right there, in that coffee shop I met a new friend in my old friend.

 

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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

3 thoughts on “At The Coffee Shop #Ishithaa”

  1. That’s a really nice blog. Especially the last line. “Right there, in that coffee shop I met a new friend in my old friend.” way too good!!

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