The Coffee Metropolis

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Frustrated I looked up from my laptop - "Why isn't there any Internet in this place?"

We were seated in one of the swankiest coffee places in Hyderabad.

A shrugged. "Let me ask them", he offered to help.

I was just getting in the zone there, ready to whip up some code.

And now, I was staring at some "404 - Not Found" page.

I leaned back into the couch, which I thought was slightly uncomfortable. House flies settling in on the already empty cup of Macchiato and bits of sandwiches we had so hungrily devoured an hour ago. And the air conditioning, intentionally switched off, made the air more humid and dry than outside.

One of the coffee waiters came by. "Madam, Internet is not working?"

"Yes", I said with no intention of hiding my irritation.

"Please try this password madam..."

"Yes, yes. I already did. It doesn't work."

The guy threw me a helpless look. "Don't know madam" and flashed a grin as if he was providing me some good news.

I started to ask him if there was a time limit of some sort on the Wi-fi usage, instead I withdrew and gave up. "OK", I sighed.

"I knew it. I should have just downloaded the API docs", I yelped in frustration to A.

This was pointless. With nothing to do, I shut my laptop and looked around.

Scores of young girls in skirts shorter than I had ever seen. With strapless tops that generously exposed their arms and backs. And with mouths that seemed to continuously talk and eyes fixated on their smartphones, their hands twirling the straws and cups flirtatiously.

"Who are these people?", I ask A suddenly aware of the people sitting there.

"And what are they doing here? Where do they get all the money from?". I kept going.

A shrugged again. "I guess kids have more money these days than I thought. I don't even know what's that thing they have ordered there. Whatever that is, looks expensive."

I frowned in agreement. I turned my attention to another set of people - mostly couples.

In my most critical tone I ask "Don't these people have work to go to?"

"Probably one of us", A joked.

"I assume we have been working till this damn Internet gave up on us?", I shot back in defense.

"Anything else madam?", one of the other waiters came by.

"No", I reply dryly.

I tilt my head and ask A, "Do they want us to leave or what?"

"Guess so",  he guffaws.

I usually would get a book to read as a backup. Today I hadn't. Perhaps I was supposed to "chill" at coffee places like these. The only problem is I have no idea what "chilling out" means. Daydreaming, I do - if it doesn't come with a price tag like this. Could I daydream without pouring so much money over a coffee please?

In the US, I love coffee places for being unsolicitous about customers. You could just go in and do things of your choice. No one would bat an eyelid. Read a book, gaze at passersby, gaze at art, daydream, code, play with legos. In India, there has never been a "character" to coffee houses. It is always the same. Young teenagers hanging out or couples cozying up. Where was all that youthful camaraderie and sprouting enthusiasm among groups they are supposed to foster?

Indian coffee places have in fact morphed into these lazy lounges. I have nothing against that. Only that it has become more of a norm in EVERY coffee place I go to. It is disappointing. And now its coffee places with dimmed lights - like it's a bar. Please!

Until I spent some years in the US, I never imagined coffee places to be these think tanks and breeding grounds for some of the revolutionary ideas. In India, that is not encouraged. In fact, anything outside the norm is not. I hope that changes soon.

And so with that hope and indirect hints from the coffee crew to leave, I head back home.

I strike out this coffee place from my mental list of "my favorite coffee places". This list looks rather empty as it is.