Her coffee ritual
April 8, 2021
My mom was born in Kumbakonam, a town that carries the moniker
of “temple town” in a state that has 30,000 temples. The other claim to fame for Kumbakonam is
being the birthplace of the famous mathematician S. Ramanujan – a fact that she
never let me forget while drilling into me the need to be good at math (Indian
parents will always find innovative ways to motivate their kids). The other famous
product out of Kumbakonam is its “degree coffee” – a strong brew generously laced
with chicory and traditionally imbibed in brass cups to accentuate the flavor and
aroma.
The temperature and strength of her coffee were 2 qualities that she was particular about. The daily morning ritual during my school days was as follows: My father would be sitting in the front portico reading his newspaper and my mom would bring the super-steaming brewed coffee in the pot with 2 glasses – lest that it would cool down when transferred to the cups. She would pour the coffee into the cups and enjoy it along with my Dad while chatting with him, as he read the newspaper.
While this daily love ritual was unfolding, there would be 2 creatures patiently waiting for this to end – my dog and me. I would wait for my dad to finish reading the newspaper so that I can dive into it – sports page first and then followed by the front page. My dad liked reading his newspaper unencumbered and the last thing he wanted was someone looking over his shoulder while reading the news. As for my dog, who would patiently wait till the moment my dad gave me the newspaper, he would get up with a spring in his step knowing that his morning walk with my father was imminent.
To be honest, I had forgotten about this for a long time till my mom’s recent stay in the hospital. I would allow myself a 15-minute break each morning in the hospital cafeteria to gather my thoughts, plan the strategy and jot the down the points to discuss with the doctors during our meetings and a hot steaming cup of coffee was my companion during this break.
While I will never get to enjoy a cup of coffee with my mom again, I am happy that she is back drinking coffee with her partner after 25 years. I am sure that she has a lot of things to tell him and get him caught up on. Miss you Mom & Dad and Chintoo, of course.
The temperature and strength of her coffee were 2 qualities that she was particular about. The daily morning ritual during my school days was as follows: My father would be sitting in the front portico reading his newspaper and my mom would bring the super-steaming brewed coffee in the pot with 2 glasses – lest that it would cool down when transferred to the cups. She would pour the coffee into the cups and enjoy it along with my Dad while chatting with him, as he read the newspaper.
While this daily love ritual was unfolding, there would be 2 creatures patiently waiting for this to end – my dog and me. I would wait for my dad to finish reading the newspaper so that I can dive into it – sports page first and then followed by the front page. My dad liked reading his newspaper unencumbered and the last thing he wanted was someone looking over his shoulder while reading the news. As for my dog, who would patiently wait till the moment my dad gave me the newspaper, he would get up with a spring in his step knowing that his morning walk with my father was imminent.
To be honest, I had forgotten about this for a long time till my mom’s recent stay in the hospital. I would allow myself a 15-minute break each morning in the hospital cafeteria to gather my thoughts, plan the strategy and jot the down the points to discuss with the doctors during our meetings and a hot steaming cup of coffee was my companion during this break.
While I will never get to enjoy a cup of coffee with my mom again, I am happy that she is back drinking coffee with her partner after 25 years. I am sure that she has a lot of things to tell him and get him caught up on. Miss you Mom & Dad and Chintoo, of course.