Time, does stop here.

One place in Bangalore where time really does stand still is the 'India Coffee House' on MG Road. From the peeling paint on the walls, the strictly no-frills interior and the waiters in their traditional attire, most of who have been with the joint since it`s inception, it is impossible not to feel like you are in a time-warp here.

Last weekend I and a friend, found ourselves on MG Road at around 4 in the afternoon, on one of my regular trips to Blossoms, where quite surprisingly, I was not able to find this book called 'Bone Man Of Benares' by Terry Tarnoff, that I so badly want to read. In case you have any pointers on where I can get this book, let me know ( Already enquired in bookworm and all the major book stalls).

Coming back to the subject, we were famished, and 4`o clock being too late for lunch, we decided to get a quick bite at the coffee house. The place was teeming with people and the buzz of conversation was thick in the air. Before I proceed, let me tell you what the 'India Coffee House' is not. It is not one of those places where you bring a date along, unless you want to break up in double quick time. It is also not one of those places where you expect the waiter to be servile to the point of looking like your personal Djinn. That said, while you are there, it is a nice place to see the world go by, from the giant windows that overlook MG Road.

We found a table after a short wait, which we had to share with a businessman, and his brat of a son, who kept sprinkling salt all over the place, while the father, who ensured that only one half of my posterior got to touch the seat, looked on dotingly. We ordered a Masala Dosa and an Omelette; not that there is much choice anyway. When it finally did arrive, my recently health-conscious soul, balked and did a double-take, to see the Masala Dosa, drowning in oil. Mr. Businessman, who apparently had no such qualms, was busy digging into MD No.2, which meant that one half of my rear, would continue to be in limbo for some more time, while sonny, having got bored of the sprinkling act, was looking for more devilish acts in which to engage himself, one of which involved kicking me repeatedly under the table, something which did not stop, until I decided to return the favour, with interest. My omelette-eating friend, had no such problems however, since guilt pangs don`t strike a person, who has by his own admission, no hopes of ever losing weight, by the traditional, strict diet-rigorous exercise routine.

After labouring through my Dosa, literally, by separating the potato in the Bhaji, and trying to get as much of the oil into the tissue, rather than into my tummy, we finally decided to order some coffee. Thankfully, by that time, our co-diners had made their way, out of the hotel, having savoured everything that the eatery had to offer. The coffee, which arrived piping hot, was absolutely out-of-this world. After the harrowing experience, I had just had with Satan and his imp, I was numb with exhaustion, and the coffee revived me no end. Go there, if only for the coffee, is my advice.

After the largely satisfying experience, it was with a sense of utmost reluctance that my friend and me, stepped into the present. Next time, if you happen to be in the area, do drop in to this place, if only to experience life, as it must have been in more un-hurried times.