Black coffee mornings...

I’ve stopped having tea in the mornings. I avoid milk as much as I can. I don’t feel like having one more of anything when it comes to food. But I do have a renewed affection for black coffee sweetened with jaggery. It is the flavour of days long past.

My father loved his black coffee. He could drink it at any time. He could drink any number of cups of it. He even used to joke that his dark complexion came from the coffee and told me he used to be fair as a child. I found that quite funny. For me it was a forbidden drink when very young so I ached to try it.

I was a very odd child. Knowing that mornings were my best time, I woke up early and took out my books. I must’ve been 14 or 15 then. My dad woke much earlier than me and seeing me up, would make black coffee for both of us. It was a ritual. We didn’t speak much. We sipped our coffee and he would walk to the Ashram while I would study for an hour or so. The rest of the household woke much later.

Today, as I sit sipping my black coffee and wonder why I have lost the will to wake up early and enjoy my day, I wish I had my Acha around just to tell me that it will all be ok. I wish I could see him enjoying the first of endless cups of coffee. I wish I could wake with the sound of his prayers in my ears and in my heart. I wish so badly that he could see his granddaughter for he had passed by the time she was born. She too loves coffee in a tea-drinking family. As I cradle my morning black coffee, I feel connected to my father for a few fleeting moments and I can almost feel his roughened hands stroking my hair as he passes by on his way to somewhere else.

Walk the talk...

The rains had just woven their magic. The heat had slipped away into the night. The air was cool and fresh. I wanted to walk outside. Mahi knew I walked alone always but she asked if she could come with me. Usually she and her dad have these long chatty walks at night but he is away three weeks out of four so she does miss him.

 I had been working on too many things and been away for hours at a stretch. Its school holidays for the twosome so they were pretty much bored. I don’t have help with Appu so if I am out at meetings, he simply does what he wants which ends up in him zoning out so much that I get scared. I find that even when I get work I love to do, I have to think twice about attending meetings or taking on extra work. Sometimes I wonder why I am not allowed to have a life of my own even after so many years of back-seat existence. Always I have had to forget my likes and do what was best. Always. I did resent it many times. And then I tell myself – I’m a mother – I can do anything.

Mahi was in the mood to talk. I listened to her after stilling my wandering mind.

“Amma, I don’t mean to sound weird but have you ever imagined Appu being like any other boy. What would he do? Would he act anything like this?”

“Well, initially when he was very small I just wished he would sleep like a regular baby or not be hyper or just give me a break. But now I don’t imagine him as anyone other than Appu.”

“Amma, I keep trying to picture him that way and it doesn’t work. He wouldn’t be Appu. He wouldn’t be so attached to me. He wouldn’t be with me so much – right?”

I smile at her. “Is it hard for you Mahi? Knowing you always have to keep an eye on him? Do you miss having the kind of brothers your friends have?”

She shrugs her slender shoulders. “Not really Amma. Appu is Appu and he’s my brother. I will always look out for him. He loves me a whole lot. He's a really good brother.”

I nod and walk beside her. My heart is full and my throat closes up.

We talk some more. She wants to know why she never has loyal friends. She wants to know how I make friends easily. I tell her I don’t. I am lucky to have a handful of friends who are true to me. She too will find such friends over time. Time and difficult phases can filter out good friends from the kind of friends who don’t stick around. Also one thing you learn when you grow older is that its good to forgive as often as you can. Learn to say sorry when you goof up. If you miss your friends, call them and talk. Let them know you are thinking of them.

She nods thoughtfully as we head back home. Once inside she gives me a tight hug and thanks me. She wants to do it again the next night. I nod and hug her again. I look at how tall she has become and how very pretty. I thank her for being Mahi and I hope very hard that she never outgrows her need for  Amma.