BREWING MEMORIES

Not a day goes by when we don't think of the past at least once. Our thoughts are imprisoned by the sundry choices that still haunt us occasionally. "If only I could go back in time and change things" is a wishful thought we all once had. "Before the coffee gets cold" is as perfect as that piping hot morning coffee blend which offers much-needed mental peace. Every sip gets better as seconds slip away. Stories of 4 strangers connected by their visits to a time-honoured cafe take readers on a caffeine-loaded journey to their past. Nunaced dialogues complement this fascinating experience generously. By accepting the cleverly devised Time Travel protocols, these individuals have sensitively come to terms with the fact that a visit to the past won't alter the course of the present or the future. A glimpse at the familiar before a tragic change took over their lives has brought closure to those who chose to sit on the coveted chair which has transcended obsolescence without defying nature. Toshikazu Kawaguchi finely captures distinctive human traits through his characters. An act as simple as moving the coffee cup, holding hands or even nodding heads decodes the relationship dynamic among them. No words are wasted here. I surfed through the pages traversing the smooth flow of conversations over coffee. Whisked by emotional ingredients with an added dash of mystery, "Before the Coffee Gets Cold" is a book that is waiting to be tasted. As far as the adaptation goes, as usual, the book has triumphed over its movie.

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THE CASTLE OF HOPE AND FAITH!

THE CHARIOT OF OUR ANGELS! After so many phases of colour transformations, finally, our bus has become yellow....Yellow????.sigh........ Anyway, I've seen blue with penguins but not this. Sometimes I hate our buses for chasing us away with our books and lunch boxes during the casual turns...so much remodelling..so many cras.....ssshhhesss... oopsie!!! I didn't mean to say that...Well..now it's a vibrant bucket of bolts...good! THE GRAND GATEWAY! It's hard for me to not keep thinking about our old watchman. Sharp at 8:45 these huge pair of gates would be closed.There would be a little door too...for other people to enter..and the notice board that you see right there always captivated us during monsoons....we'd wait for some holiday notes to be written so we could run back home. Emails or Phones or WhatsApp didn't exist then. Though these gates did scare us a few times...it very well taught us the bottom line.."Be Punctual!

THE SWEET SMELL OF SELF-RELIANCE

The beach has always intrigued me. It's the feeling of home that makes travelling to or residing in coastal areas a heavenly experience. That way, Tahiti is now on my bucket list. Rain or shine, from now on, my spirit to visit the islands in French Polynesia will remain staunch. Stories that are raw, fresh, original, and organic stand the test of time, whereas those that are polished to suit the intellectual needs of readers fail to leave a meaningful footprint. frangipani belongs to the former category. Survival struggles for women across the world are more or less the same. No surprises there. Materena Mahi brought back memories from my childhood and replayed conversations I had with my mom at our kitchen table. Despite the endemic cultural conditioning, women are naturally free-thinkers. Lack of financial independence and self-love has pushed them into the web of unhappy family units where they are expected to take care of everyone around them at the expense of their dreams, d

A PERFECT CARVING

Every school has an exclusive tree. A tree that wasn't just a provider of shade on sunny afternoons to lunch under but something of a quiet onlooker that stood steady against the backdrop of changes. We had Banyans, Peepals, Neems and Jojobas decorating the school compound like ornate Chandeliers. Flowers rained from the Cassia Fistula a.k.a the Golden Shower tree kept us busy as we created arty arrangements on the muddy ground. Those patterns lasted until the sound of school bells and a dash of cool winds dispersed everything. The Copper Beech set in the beautiful village of Shancarrig invoked my dormant childhood memories. At times, we deliberately lock up good moments in a corner of our brains lest it should arouse tearful nostalgia. Let the good old days stay tucked in because earnestly missing something isn't going to bring it back. It was a painful reminder of how much things have changed and how much we missed cherishing those moments when we had it all for ourselves.

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