Indian Coffee House

          She is sitting there in front of him, happy to be pleased by another man. Perhaps a modern hairstyle with a bun at the back and some hair still flowing back which she held and put it on one side and then showing off her beautiful neck and undaunted skin. Her top is vibrant blue with flowers on it and from the distance from where I am sitting; her skin looks pampered and smooth even in this humid weather. Her complexion is a bit dusky. She is wearing jeans with a light shade of blue. She is constantly settling her hair and curling them at the back of her ears and sipping the ever so delicious cold coffee this place offers. I'm not sure how her face looks because I didn't really have enough time to embed it in my memory as she had turned around and sat quickly as soon as she had entered then. However, the first impression or the feeling that I remember when I saw her face was that she was very well groomed, had her make-up spot on i: e not too much but just enough. She should be wearing kajal as most of them do these days. It gives the eyes their own individuality and a clearer expression for the men to understand them.

           She is constantly playing with her fingers, probably conscious about what to say, however with much irony, she hasn't stopped talking since the time she entered the cafe. Her arms are folded and legs crossed in the most delicate and decent feminine way. Now suddenly, she has slowly started rocking on the chair, maybe she is a little excited or anxious about something. 

           The man hasn't yet said a word and is constantly nodding his head with different expressions and laughing at times. They look happy right no. As she rocks on the very simple chairs this place has to offer it makes me think that spending time with this man has made her a little vulnerable and she is just about almost ready to be herself completely. It seems she is waiting for the right time because her hands are folded and she is resisting it. He seems to acknowledge all her jokes with a little laughter, not too much. Maybe he does not want to scare her by laughing too hard. By looking at the gleam in his eyes from almost three tables away where I am sitting and no one except another guy sitting on the table next to them and the waiter in the crisp white uniform, I can tell that he really adores the way she looks but is too afraid to have said it already. She has become more comfortable now and her elbows are on the table and she looks happy constantly talking. This perhaps is the beauty of a simple and cheap cafe with a long history and beauty aged for almost 56 years now. The Indian coffee house on a very humid and hot Thursday morning in the heart of this city looks rather calm and peaceful, almost like a tree giving away fruits of beautiful moments to each one that come in under its shade. Blocking the sun and making everyone comfortable, offering good coffee and decent food, the Indian coffee house helps me believe in the fact that life can be beautiful with the simple luxuries just enough to survive.