Cafe Samovar, Kala Ghoda

I

My first sip of beer was bitter,

Then magically turned to sweet

Conversation flowed like amber liquid

In the verandah you offered as sanctuary

To sundry souls, peaceniks, and poets.

Celebrities would hang around here:

Pearl in an elegant kimono –

Amitabh, Jaya, Amol, Vidya

And almost famous theatre actors.

I don’t know how thirty years flew

It seems like yesterday

That I asked a young lady to tea

And my hands trembled as I poured

I don’t know if she noticed;

We were a shy generation.

There were paper lanterns

Dangling from the ceiling

Kites multi-coloured, ribbed with bamboo

Muted music, reviving,

As if the Jazz musicians recovered from torpor.

Those were the days of rock-n-roll;

Elvis was king, Beatles were in their cocoons

And the city had fewer cars.

II

At the next table

The child-man’s hand trembles,

As he pours tea;

Clutching the kettle with clumsy stained hands,

His nicotine-addict lips smile,

As the girl giggles, and then laughs;

This is a nonchalant generation.

Except for that

And Pearl is no more, her kimono is in grave,

Things haven’t changed much

At Café Samovar, Kala Ghoda;

There are paper lanterns dangling,

And thoda-thoda[1] famous people around,

Waiting for their next big break.

Nothing has changed while I was away,

Guess nothing ever will.

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[1] Little, little.