I was sitting in a coffee shop reading a book and it is so strange, sometimes when you think, that you are able to concentrate in the midst of all the chatter, the clanking of the cups, the whirring of the coffee machines, the ambient music playing in the background, all the commotion and the occasional bursts of laughter from a group sitting by your side. Completely paradoxical to many settings where the slightest disturbance can turn into a big distraction.
I am, for example, most productive in the supposedly 'after office' hours at work, when I am left to my own devices. The slightest disturbances in the daytime are sufficient to break my concentration and there are days when I go back in the evening thinking that the 9 to 6 office time is a complete waste of my time. I get real productive after 6 when people start to leave the office and quietness starts to prevail.
Now, coming back to the coffee shop & the reason why I am writing this piece. I was totally absorbed in reading a book ‘The road less travelled’ in the midst of all the coffee shop clatter and there was a sudden change in the light, the overhead lamp tilted away and it kind of became difficult to read and suddenly it took me to one of my early childhood days; to a memory so deeply etched and forgotten in my mind that, I didn’t know until that moment, that it existed. It was overwhelming in a way, being transported to a moment in time in the middle of all the coffee room frenzy, the noise dissipating into silence and everything getting blackholed into darkness and reminiscence.
I got reminded of one of those days during the cold winter in Kashmir when it used to get real cold and dark and we would shrink in a corner around the oil lantern and wait for the electricity. Those days we used to get massive power cuts and those hours without light seemed like an eternity and then there were times when there used to be no electricity for days altogether because of a breakdown in a supply station. It used to get real dark, as dark and cold as nights can possibly become!
The reminiscence seemed like a time travel 20 years behind time and it was so vivid that I felt suddenly transported to the exact setting. I could see my grandmother, a very industrious woman, combing the pashmina wool on a wooden contraption held between her knees, pulling the Pashmina balls sideways that she used to spin on a charkha during the daytime; I could hear the exact sound of the combing and the faint conversations in the background. There was nothing to do no internet, no laptops or mobile phones.
The darkness, as it progressed, used to get the better of us as and we would bury our heads into the Pherans (large woolen gowns) waiting for the light so we could have our meals in light and catch up on some programs on the TV. Now, these were perfect settings for meditation, if only I knew about meditation then!
An occasional sound of my uncle teasing one of us would break the silence, he would take our names at regular intervals one by one and the answer to his calls had to be a long ‘hmmm!’ Often a loud shriek from one of the households in the neighborhood that would travel miles in the dark would wake us up and start a debate on whose house the voice came from. Those were difficult days but sweet memories, I said to myself.
The lights came on, the kaleidoscopic cinema was over, the coffee shop reanimated, the whirring, clanking, laughter, chatter all came to life and I looked around. The time travel was over and I realized that life has come a long way for me and all of us - convenient, predictable and scary at the same time, better and comfortable in many ways. This is life, ever-changing, transient & impermanent.
Check please, I signaled!
