  Climbing up the stairs to one of the few remaining traditional coffee houses left in Bangalore, I glanced up at the sky, thick clouds of grey floated by like cotton balls, peering down, almost like little children threatening to drop little water balloons on my head.
Thankfully shelter was near and time to get there abundant. As usual the intimidating group of young professionals gathered outside the door, to share their witticisms, news, cigarettes and of course coffee. They probably don’t realize it, but their formation outside the entrance, resembles something of a human scanner, scrutinizing each person as they pass by, observing possessions, clothing, hairstyles etc. Quite frankly it’s a little unnerving to new comers and being of the easily intimidated sort myself, I tend to proceed with some degree of discomfort. All that aside, I pass by relatively unscathed, greeting the few familiar faces that graciously tear their noses out of their books to acknowledge my appearance for all of two seconds. Settling in, I wait for my companion to call of a cup of the usual steaming battery acid as we pull out our own books, either to write or muse over.
This place is famous…definitely not for its coffee, or the food for that matter. Maybe people enjoy the fact that they can come to one of the most expensive shopping areas in Bangalore and still get coffee for Rs.5.00/- I cannot be over critical, after all I have enjoyed the convenience of its presence for a number of years, its rustic feel, the buzz of creative minds flitting in and out like bees in search of wild flowers. Of course these days the so called creative minds and artsy crowd have meandered their way over to Koshy’s due to certain political reasons (Bah politics!
) namely the inability to smoke within the premises of the seating area. Hence the few loyalists resign themselves to enjoying the fresh air outside the entrance therefore intimidating all new comers earlier mentioned. The coffee arrives with the required 2 glasses of water, the rain has begun, all smokers stroll inside to reclaim vacant spaces and continue a discussion on an idea for a prospective business venture, requiring some knowledge of clay and 2D animation. Pausing in my writing to consider the proper application of “sollecitare” I take in the sight around me, surrounded by a melting pot of creativity in the form of artists, writers, sculptors, designers, I realize how insignificant my talent is, how lacking in depth, how raw and unrefined. Smiling, I continue to write, disregarding the insignificant interruption, my writing is my pleasure and if it amuses another soul then I am grateful for a kindred spirit, if not, I am grateful of the opportunity to be unique.
Why does this coffee house, inspire my thoughts more than others, why does it signify, this anachronism? Perhaps, it draws us, because it symbolizes something we all look for, this kaccha structure of brick and mortar, unrefined and very 50’s in appearance represents a beginning, a starting point. I won’t romanticize on the structure, suffice to say that it’s rather old-fashioned walls; fans and paintings bring to mind an era, a culture that is quickly growing out of fashion.
The rain has stopped, the crowd is still moving like a lumbering beast on the pavement, it is difficult to press on without banging into another person. The wind has picked up, it will be a cold night. A sense of peace pervades all senses; there is a feeling of well being, of purpose fulfilled. Ah the joys of musing for the sole purpose of self-entertainment on a fine Sunday evening, these are the days we live for… for the few and far between. 
