Coffee House

 

The coffee is insipid,

The wait too long,

In steaming summers, one wonders

At the discipline and dedication

Of the waiters

To dress up, as if

These were the times of the Raj

 

The Afghani chicken is better

Than the coffee;

It is only after food and drink is done

That you look around

Sense the discussion

And realise

It was never about the coffee

 

Trotksy, Sartre, Chomsky

Bolivar, Castro, Dostoevsky

Resonate in the steam

World hunger doesn’t get solved

Just the existence of adda

As if ancient Greece, Taxila

Alexandria all converge in Calcutta

 

Those last threads of

Intellectualism that thrived in the city

Now survives

In weak coffee and bread crumbs

But at least it has a home,

Swirling in Charminar smoke

Under the whirring fans that gasp for breath

 

If you are here, look around

Who knows - Perhaps another Ray ponders,

Another Amartya Sen,

Or a Sunil, Samaresh

Sips not just insipid coffee

But forever’s inspiration

In the shrine of yesterday’s Calcutta…

 

8^th June, 2026