Percolate a Kaapi Song

I stared at the window, at its faintly peeling blue,
Old-fashioned perhaps, but with no trace of dirt,
I stared through the window, at the graceful green outside
That flickered rays of brilliant sunshine
Upon the neatly arranged mica-topped tables and molded chairs.
This was no air-conditioned coffee bar with extravagant
Ambiance and windows of stylish insulation,  
This was just an ordinary roadside kaapikadai,
Yet a very happening place,  
Where fresh air and natural light happened during the day—
A place that I once would have shunned
Had she not happened.

Ayiya, kaapi,’a gap-toothed grin looked down at me…
He was no barista in apron and shoes.
I smiled back confusedly, which I think he didn’t mind,
And directed my gaze at the steaming, bubbly beverage
In the typical traditional davara-tumbler upon my table.
The kaapi smiled at me, its refreshing aroma catching my nostrils.
I didn’t miss the large heavy mug of latte art with full-fat milk.
‘We must do kaapi and poetry someday,’ she had said,
I had smiled weakly, unable to share her exuberance,
My already weakened interest in her slipping down
Several notches.  

Why had I felt that way about her then? Why? Why?
I had mistaken her simplicity for crudeness, for inelegance;
Time now revealed the hot-headedness of my ignorance—
She who imbued the essence of truthful living,  
How could I have not seen the poetry of her soul? 
The genuine love she epitomized?
A love that would have percolated drop by drop,
Transforming my plainness into an exotic elixir
Suffused with a heady, brimming wholesomeness…
A love that would have lingered its delightful naturalness
To eternity… 
A love so tasteful that I would have relished it to the last drops…
Like this kaapi!

The kaapi awakened my senses, gave me strength,
I took my phone to call her but hesitated.
‘Will she pick up my call?’ I wondered.
Not wanting to overwhelm her, I sent her a selfie,
The vibrant window behind me, adding:
‘I am ready for someday; care to join me for kaapi?
We could make poetry together.’
I knew I had to be patient; I had to give the message
Time to percolate,
But my heartbeat a different song now, 
A happy as kaapi song, and as I skipped out of the kaapikadai
I gave gap-toothed grin an equally pleasant smile—
Love was upon my sleeve, and the classic lines of the kaapi song 
Exuded verses of hope.

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Vidya Shankar, a widely published Indian poet, writer, editor, English teacher, and a “book” in the Human Library, says poetry is not different from her. A recipient of literary awards and recognition, she uses the power of her words to sensitize her readers about environmental issues, mental health, and the need to break the shackles of an outdated society. Vidya is the author of two poetry books, The Flautist of Brindaranyam (in collaboration with her photographer husband, Shankar Ramakrishnan), and The Rise of Yogamaya (an effort to create awareness about mental health.) She finds meaning in her life through yoga and mandalas.