Tuesday, August 7, 2012

That Cup of Coffee

An idyllic setting for a memorable evening would be a walk along a river side, or sitting atop a hill on a rainy evening watching the birds flying back to their nests. Audacious as it may seem, the prospect getting lost in my thoughts in sync with nourishes my muted senses. Living in a (much cliched) "concrete jungle", I yearn for such an evening. Too good to materialize !!!

Coffee shops, have indeed paned out to be the urban alternative for a relaxed evening. The emergence of coffee shops across cities is indeed a testimony to the growing culture among us. I used to be cynical about coffee shops, the rationale being obvious, money. It was not until late 2010, that I had visited a coffee shop. I was with a couple of friends, at Gloria Jeans in Hiranandani, Powai, Mumbai. It was a memorable evening where we ended up conversing about a whole host of issues, over a big cup of coffee. It was indeed one of those memorable conversations I had. Hence started my love affair with coffee shops. Costa Coffee, in Hiranandani is another favorite hang out, owing to its idyllic ambience. I frequented the shop usually in company of a friend, and we used to spent our time gossipping over a cup of cappucino and a blueberry muffin. This place has witnessed some of the most memorable and hilarious moments of my life in Mumbai. Coffee shack in campus was another favorite spot where I used to unwind after a long day at work, discussing on failed experiments or fantastic results or cribbing about the lab. However over the past year, my friend circle petered out, as they moved to different parts of the world in search of better career prospects. However my love for coffee shops remain. I take my cup of coffee at the coffee shack and introspect on my day at work, assessing and analysing the numerous possibilities. However, I miss those inspiring and hilarious conversations, but I have learned to live without it. 

Monday, June 11, 2012

Contrasting Times

Contrasting times :

This year, being on the other side of the globe, I had my longest birthday. I can perhaps, say, it was one of the lousiest too. I missed talking to my parents,bro, aunt, cousin, grandma and all on my birthday. I missed being among my friends, and spent the whole day travelling from Austin to Albany via New York. 

This birthday was indeed one, where I realised the value of the people around me. My last two birthdays were memorable, thanks to my friends and relatives. I realised that I got used to people, and never realised their importance in my life. I am thankful to god, that I did not have to go through an arduous path to come to this realisation. 

Thank you all, my dear friends for being there whenever I needed you to be there.

With lots of love,

Sandeep S S

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Poetic Sojourn

I had decided to take a sabbatical from writing about personal experiences. I wanted to try out short stories and poems. However, my last post (apparently a short story, a pure work of fiction) drew lot of flak from my friends. It seemed too slow and lacked the personal touch. However, I decided to continue experimenting with new writing styles. My passion for writing was reinvigorated two weeks back while rummaging through chapters on phonons and Boltzmann transport equation. This time I placed my money on poems.Back in school, poems seemed so veiled and profound, as one could easily write a three page essay on 8 lines of a poem. I sometimes wonder, whether the poet actually meant so, or where we just cooking up a story?

Poem it was, and I tried jotting down the first word that came to my mind, it was 'peace'. Maybe the influence of reading too many articles on maoists and war, or maybe I was searching for inner peace, I know not. The next few words followed "was all he craved for". I took a pause and wondered, where I was headed. With a deep sigh, I wrote down the next two lines:
"plunging into the abyss of work,
the devils were kept at bay"

It has been two weeks now, and I tried adding to those lines. I wrote, rewrote but nothing seemed to fit the bill, and I knew that the poem ought to be scrapped. Looking back at those three lines, I knew, I could write an exhaustive essay on it. Poems are indeed profound, and I would need to go a long way before I actually write one beautiful poem. Until then I would keep writing and rewriting those verses.