A CUPFUL OF MEMORIES : MY JOURNEY WITH COFFEE

 

Though I’m not a coffee addict, I love and enjoy a steaming cup of hot coffee. For me, coffee is more than a beverage — it’s a collection of sweet, comforting memories that linger like its aroma.

One of my earliest memories dates back to childhood visits to Indian Coffee Works with my father and his close friend. Having coffee served in a sparkling white cup and saucer felt like a special ritual. The experience was energising — something I couldn’t express in words as a child, but now I can feel it wholeheartedly. Since the coffee was always piping hot, I couldn’t sip it directly from the cup. Instead, I’d pour a little into the saucer, wait for it to cool slightly, and sip it slowly. That simple act remains one of my most inexplicable and heartwarming experiences.

Another memory that always brews in my heart is about one of my aunts — the “Coffee Queen” of our family. She was known for preparing countless cups of coffee over her lifetime. Every visitor to her home was greeted with a cup of filter coffee, without fail. The number of milk packets, sugar, and kilograms of coffee powder that went into her monthly groceries was both stunning and admirable. Yet, she never worried about the expenses — it was her joy, her way of expressing love. She never served instant coffee; it was always filter coffee, strong and aromatic. Tea, on the other hand, was never her cup of beverage — she didn’t even know how to make one!

Any time of the day, she was ever-ready — both to serve and to savour a cup of coffee. Her love for coffee became a cherished tale in our family, one we fondly recall even today.

As for me, I don’t mind switching to other beverages when visiting different homes — I happily accept whatever my host offers. But in my daily routine, it’s coffee that begins my day and tea that gracefully ends it.

In real life, I still remember the refreshing visit to the coffee estates of Araku Valley in Visakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh. And in the world of fiction, I’ve wandered through the lush coffee plantations of Coorg described so beautifully in the works of Preethi Shenoy.

Coffee, to me, isn’t just a drink — it’s a story, a symbol of love, warmth, and nostalgia that connects generations.

 

(This blog post is a part of Blogchatter's Bloghop. Details here :  https://www.theblogchatter.com/blogchatter-blog-hop-a-new-way-to-write-collectively)