Poetry in a cup

My love for cappuccino goes back 25 years, when a friend of mine took me to a fancy cafe for coffee and cake. Until then, I had only enjoyed Nescafé from those old coffee machines and served in paper cups. One sip of this elixir, which was creamy, velvety, and audaciously flavourful, and I was ruined forever. This coffee in a ceramic mug not only brought a new flavour but won my taste buds and heart for all eternity. It was proof enough that nirvana sometimes comes with foam.

Since then, Capp, as I affectionately call it, and I have been the best of buddies. I have made new friends, dated, had breakups, found my startup partners, discovered new employers, hired employees, pitched to clients, met strangers, mentors, mentees, colleagues, inventors, professors, and who’s who over mugs of cappuccino. Capp has been my best mate during my ‘me’ time. Capp has helped (and continues to do so) me think, innovate, write articles and poetry, introspect, and just be me.

Capp has played roles that most people reserve for therapists, advisors, or wise friends. It has seen me through emotional crisis, creativity bursts, writer’s blocks, existential questions, and Mondays. It has provided intellectual companionship, whether I am solving crosswords or writing a new blog post. Every time I’ve needed clarity, I have found it swirling somewhere between the foam and the last sip. Forget meditation, real introspection happens when your hands are wrapped around a warm cappuccino mug, and you’re staring into the nothingness like a philosopher lost in thought.

I think Cappuccino is one of the greatest social equalisers ever invented! At almost all the cafés, you’ll find students, entrepreneurs, artists, engineers, poets, procrastinators, and people pretending to work, all looking thoughtful and slightly existential when holding a cappuccino mug. Over the years, I have met strangers who later became collaborators, collaborators who became friends, and friends who introduced me to even more cappuccinos. If networking had an official beverage, Capp would be printed on the business cards. At this point, if LinkedIn allowed a ‘coffee quotient,’ mine would be among the highest across generations.

But beyond work, people, and the illusion of productivity, Capp has been the guardian of my ‘me-time.’ While the world insists on shouting through notifications, deadlines, and existential adulthood, a mug of cappuccino quietly reminds me to breathe. Those quiet moments in cafés with just me, Capp, my lit B & H regulars, a notebook or iPad, or a newspaper are where most of my thinking actually happens. Poems, ideas, reflections, plans, memories, confessions, and stories have all been brewed with Capp as my thinking cap. If a cappuccino had consciousness, it would be quietly judging me for the number of drafts I’ve abandoned midway, and they now decorate the ‘Notes’ app in my iPhone/iPad.

There is a ritualistic romance to the warmth of the mug, the gentle collapse of foam, keeping the coffee art till the last few sips, and the world slowing just enough to let me feel human again. Somehow, every sip feels like a reminder that life doesn’t unfold only through big milestones, but often, it’s held together by tiny pauses over coffee.

After a quarter of a century, my love for cappuccino is still burning bright, even though I have tried its other cousins. But I always return to Capp because Capp is comfort, consistency, creativity, and companionship poured into a single mug. So, here’s to the witness to my chaos, the co-author of my ideas, the soundtrack to my solitude, and the warm friend who has been present in more chapters of my life than any human possibly could. If love could be brewed, steamed, and topped with foam art, it would taste exactly like this.

And after 25 years, I’m still not done sipping.

Stressed, blessed, and cappuccino-obsessed, that’s my motto, I confess!