That Filter Coffee #Everyconversationmatters

Alakendu

Alakendu was sitting on the cane chair, reading his favourite Geetanjali. The more he read the book, the more he rediscovered himself and the world with a new perspective each time. But one thing, he knew, would never change, and that was the self-pride he carried along as a Bengali. And that led to his detachment from his son, Anirban. He was the one who broke the house's tradition. First of all, he did not join their generational publishing business, which Alakendu had been managing to maintain the legacy, even in this era of online books and tutorials. But Anirban had other plans, and with some friends, he had set up a Start-up. And then the most striking blow- he married Vijaya, a non-Bengali, knowing nothing about the Bengali culture. 

Now that he had been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for his evening tea, there was no sign of Vijaya. If Madhuri had been there today, she would have surely got a cup of flavourful Darjeeling tea and some Phuluri (gram flour fritters). Instead, every evening Vijaya would offer him filter coffee and Idli, knowing perfectly well that his answer would always be negative. Ultimately, she would serve him tea with some Diet Puffed Rice or Beaten Rice and cucumber slices. Who would like to eat such rubbish? – Filter coffee-huh! Rubbish, it was just an excuse for her inability to make the perfect tea. Yes, of course, he had diabetes, but at least once in a while, he deserved to be served the food of his choice. But who would make that girl understand all these? Instead of Luchi and Sada Alur Torkari (White flour Puris and white potato sabji), breakfast would be either Dosa or Upma. Sometimes he would skip breakfast, without revealing that he already had a few Kachoris with Dum aloo at Gupta's before returning from his morning walk. And if his appetite permitted, a couple of Darbesh or Pantua (Bengali Sweets), who would know? That girl? He sometimes failed to understand what Anirban had seen in that girl that would not be there in a Bengali girl.

Vijaya

Vijaya was sure her father-in-law had eaten from outside today as well. Bhola, their house-help, had informed her, and this was the third time in the week. She was worried that his blood sugar level could rise at any time. Since she could not control what he ate outside, she had to be strict at home. She knew that Diet Chiwda and Murmura would not be the tastiest snacking options, but she could not risk his health, despite realising how much he disliked her. She would rather be disliked by someone than risk his health. Here he was back from a walk, but why was he panting so much? Vijaya ran to Alakendu, who was sweating profusely. She helped him sit on the couch and gently wiped his face with a cold towel. After a glass of water, when he was feeling better, Vijaya dared to ask him, "Appa, you had sweets now, didn't you?" Alakendu was not able to lie, "Yes, a couple of them and Kachori." He smiled like a little kid who had just been caught lying. 

"From now onwards, I will decide what you eat, and no food from outside. Now, over a cup of tea, we would both decide on a proper diet plan for you." She rushed to the kitchen. On one burner, she put the pot of coffee for herself, and on the other, the water for his tea. The rich aroma of coffee was difficult to ignore. Its nuttiness, a little bit of bitterness -ah, how could anyone refuse this flavour? A sudden sound interrupted her thoughts. She looked back to find Alakendu standing. "Well, Vijaya, Ma, I was thinking if I can try that filter coffee today." His nervous curiosity could not escape her eyes. Willingly and excitedly, Vijaya responded, "Yes, Appa." She took out another coffee glass and placed it next to hers, for him, for the first time. 

 

This story has been written for Penmancy's Quintale 85 prompt "Smell The Coffee"

This post is a part of #famjambloghop hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed under #EveryConversationMatters blog hop series