At 5, in love with coffee

Satish Arya 

BHANU, my son, sent me a picture recently. His eight-month-old son is sitting in his lap while he is holding a mug of cold coffee. I went down memory lane, 28 years back, when my son was five years old. We had gone to Gurugram to attend a relative’s wedding. The banquet hall was spacious, bustling with rustling silks and expensive suits. Handsome young men were strutting about and lissome lasses, subtly yet provocatively attired, moved about with an artfully careless gait. Even without being overly observant, one could discern the playful games Cupid plays in such circumstances. The whole environment took a romantic hue with expensive fragrances wafting through the hall and the fumes of cocktails mixing freely with the aromas arising from various dishes, so aesthetically adorning the tables. 

Warmth and love was palpable as we met old and new relatives. Soon, we were so engrossed with our tidbits and warm hugs that we forgot about our son! Our little prince in his newly stitched suit and tie. When we last saw him, he was there, wide-eyed, absorbing the scenes and sounds all around. 

After the initial euphoria of meeting and eating with friends dissipated a little, my wife suddenly realised that our son was missing. A frantic search began. We scanned the length and breadth of the huge hall. He was nowhere to be seen. Panic gripped us. We searched him across the glittering lawns, in the parking, on the road... but no luck. There were tears in his mother’s eyes. I sensed a fierce storm rising on the horizon. Whatever goes wrong, it is the husband who is at fault, always. “Why didn’t you hold  his hand? Why didn’t you keep an eye on him? “You are irresponsible, you cannot even take care of your own child .” 

Family and friends filed out in different directions, combing all the nooks and corners. All excitement of the ceremony was gone. Just then, someone sighted him standing in the farthest corner, hidden from view, near the coffee bar. Relieved, we rushed toward him. And there he stood, poised and calm, looking at us innocently. Cupped between his little hands was a big cup of coffee.

The man at the coffee bar looked at us to confirm whether we were the culprit parents. “Sir, this child has already gulped down five cups. I asked him to go and eat something. He went away, but came back and asked for another cup.” At that moment of joy and relief, our minds did not register what the man at the coffee bar was saying. But only in the later years did we realise the full import of his words — our son had fallen in love with coffee. 

And now perhaps it is the turn of his little one.