At Costa

Yesterday, on 6th February 2011, a gaggle of young and old writers got together at Costa, the new coffee house on Law College Road, smack opposite Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute. As usual I was the first to reach, but was mystified whilst looking for others, to feel a light tap on my right shoulder. Pesi was standing behind me, smiling like a Pope on holiday, with his ghostlike hue and that strangely unchanging smile. We sat together and soon June showed up, looking trim and rejuvenated. We decided to go up since there were tiny tables capable of seating no more than 3 or 4 at each. Upstairs it seemed at first less noisy, but we were in for a nasty surprise later on.

This place used to be Rangoli - probably a Maharashtrian cafe that offered cheap South Indian food. I used to deal with a housing finance company long ago, right next door, and taking a break over coffee with snacks was a favourite break in my routine then. Despite good clientele, the place turned seedy over the years and looks like Costa has been here for a while. Anyway, soon we were joined by the ever-smiling Samir Dhurde, who has interacted with me at Pune Jazz Club for some time now. He uploads the presentations there, on the new website, and he is also part of the Outreach programme at IUCAA where he lives and works. He had Kailash with him, a newbie, with a deep and sonorous voice that sounded as if it has been cultured painstakingly. Soon two young ladies joined us, very enthusiastic and eager, Kalyani who said she has been writing for a while, and Rujuta, whose forte seems to be making comments pleasantly, effervescently and with some solid substance.
Pesi was the first to read a short story, that sounded like an excerpt from a longer work. A peep at the printed pages showed he had captioned Chapter : 2, etc., which meant it was a novel, a work in progress. The grand old man of writing, who has had one of his short stories published in the Indian Chicken Soup for the Soul series, was in his element. Crisp, vivid and smooth. He has a very even temperament, which gets reflected in his writing. By this time the ambient noise had climbed by several notches, and he was clearly at unease. Both of us oldies, were straining at our ears to hear what Kalyani or Rujuta, both with amazingly soft voices, were saying.
June is an enthusiastic flash fiction writer and she had a sheaf of papers. She refused to read somehow, so one peace I had to read... one that began and ended with a startling sentence :
"It was 17 degrees. The perfect temperature for a murder...."
Taut, and enticingly mysterious, the piece delivered what it promised in very few words. On applying the same measuring stick to the other pieces she offered, it seemed that she has by now mastered the dark arts of writing brief, succinct and yet succulent prose. Kalyani read one piece, and another piece was read by Kailash. June didn't read any of her peace saying she is not good at reading. I took that with a pinch (several actually) of salt.
Kalyani was the next reader. She read a longish short story written in microscopic letters on her simple Nokia cellphone. We all thought it was miraculous on her part to be able to read it all without a single error! Her story was panoramic in scope, concerning a young girl and her about to be fixed marriage and her many facted life. She read in a hurry, which often happens with people who are not used to reading in public. Her story sounded very down to earth, written more in a journalistic vein that in an artistic or creative frame of mind. Rujuta read a piece that sounded like a poem, but frankly most of the words were lost on me as a horde of youngsters had occupied the next table and they were vying to shout one another down. Then came a very entertaining piece from Kailash who read from his Compaq laptop and who turned out to be more an actor than a writer, more of a playwright than a short story writer. I had to comment on his peace, which was a witty and sharp account of a young couple in love, that it reminded me of the Middle Eastern tradition of Dastaan Goi ( story telling) which involves acting out the parts. He voice was loud enough to drown out the yelling youngsters swarming around us like amplified locusts by now. I had to ask him if he had a playscript in mind... yes and no, was the answer. I think at heart he is an actor who also loves to write his own stuff. Good stuff.
Finally I read my piece " Coming Unstuck" about a collegemate who went through hell because he overreached and panicked at UK whilst doing his Master's in Electrical Engg. All about how I, a very stressed out graduate on the prowl for a good job with a schizophrenic sibling at home, rallied around with Shashi's newly arrived wife Hasu to drag him up back to life. He went on to get the degree from the same place, plus another in Mechanical Engg. and then to US where he had a brilliant career in aviation sector. It was fairly sentimental, humorous and carried the human interest all through. Many positive comments came, so did queries too. With some pleasantries, and a unanimous decision to meet next time at IUCAA thanks to Samir, we parted Yes, he too read out a brief piece, a very poetic series of reflections on life, written at Kochi, where he watched a water body nearby and let his mind go into a freewheeling mode. It was good.
On the whole, the meeting was good, like Pesi told me later. Enjoyable, especially the interaction.
07th Feb 2011 Pune.