On 14th April, after about five long
years, the Indian Coffee House on Nehru Street reopened its doors.
The crowded tables showed how much it had been missed.
“Iconic” is a much overused term
nowadays. But the old Indian Coffee House on Nehru Street, with its
grubby green walls, lazy fans, wicker chairs and turbaned waiters,
surely had something of that indefinable quality. Actually, what made
it special was not the coffee or the food (which was never great,
although the French Toast had its moments) nor the décor. It was the
laid-back conversations and the chance of meeting someone mildly or
wildly eccentric who would titillate your curiosity, even, at best,
change your life, while outside Nehru Street stagnated in the heavy,
summer heat. Remember Yann Martel’s Booker-winning Life of Pi? It
begins in just this coffee house with the author meeting an elderly
man who tells him, “I have a story that will make you believe in
God.”
Long-term Aurovilian, Ajit Koulagi,
first en...
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