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Candid Coffee Tales

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Candid Coffee Tales

A cozy reading room with a large bookshelf, sofa, and a table set with coffee, a book, a tab, and some pages — a space where stories, thoughts, and life gently intertwine.

Late to the Feast, and Forever Famished

"But what exactly does it make you feel?" "Many things. Like life can feel infinite, even inside a finite frame. You know what I mean?" I embraced reading a little late. When I was very young, my mom and brother made several noble attempts to convert

A masquerade mask, coffee mug, and pen with paper on a table — a quiet metaphor for identity, perception, and the untold stories behind every face.

Character and Other Fictional Errors

"I thought he had no character." "How could he have one when you assassinated it for him?" Ages ago, I wrote a microfiction titled Casanova. It was the story of a man who deliberately taints his reputation as a womanizer, apparently for a good cause. When

A vine of autumn leaves and a coffee mug resting on a table — a symbol of a season that teaches us to let go and start anew.

A Thousand Autumns and Not One Was Mine

"There’s something about those fiery hues, don’t you think?" "I do. As if the leaves have been rehearsing this transcendence for lifetimes. As if they’re thrilled to die a little, just to be reborn whole." I have a plastic vine of fall leaves

Italian café table with coffee and books — a quiet moment of finding joy (La Gioia) in life's little embarrassments.

Fluent in Faux Pas and Artful Overthinking

"Weren't you embarrassed?" "I was, but then I laughed harder." In an epic misadventure, I once walked into an Italian café and quite confidently mispronounced its name La Gioia. I said it in a way that only a typically Indian tongue could manage (I’