another day at The Indian coffee house,I was alone at the table finding it quite hard to contemplate anything at all.
I find it impossible to decipher that how the magnanimous Manna Dey could voice a song on such cacophony of a place, that is the coffee house.Certain aspects of that place quite bugs me like – in every table there is atleast one person who is rigorously smoking!! its like the whole place is floating in a dense fog of nicotine.(although it is clearly laminated that its a smoke-free zone)
I wonder that maybe people are being pretentious,flaunting the cutting-edge thug that comes with smoking .I really find it fascinating that how cigerattes could catalyse style . But then again its that verse in our veins that compels us to be unified in a common notion of not nationalism or patriotism, but a relished mood of pure bong gossip to keep alive oneself and the culture.
i am still hummimg ‘auld lang syne’
blended with
“coffee houser sei adda ta..
..”
thickskinnedwaltermitty 