MOCHA FRAPPE WITH MRS. IYENGAR

It is a warm and pleasant sunny day. The streets of Seminyak, Bali, are filled with tourists from all over the world. At one of the busiest intersections of Seminyak is a tiny Indian cafe called ‘Cafe Happiness’ whose mission in life is to take Indian food to every corner of the world. In this cafe, at a table meant for two, on a chair facing the busy street outside, visible through the tinted glass walls, sits an old man looking at his phone. As drops of tears trickle on the photo of his deceased wife, he sighs and wipes his phone and face clean.

“Excuse me,” he signaled the waiter to come and take his order.

“Do you still have the cold coffee with whipped cream?” He asked the waiter.

“Yes, sir. The Mocha Frappe.” The waiter replied with utmost sincerity.

“Oh, yes, yes. The Frappe. That is what it is called.” The old man smiled and continued. “My wife loved it when we had it the last time we were here.” His frail wavering voice was like the frappe he ordered, a mixture of the bitter sadness from the death of his wife, the cocoa, and the pleasant happiness of fulfilling his wive’s wish, the cream. 

“Oh! That is so nice, sir. Is mam also going to join us?” The waiter asked, happy to have a repeat customer.

“Oh, I wish she could. She passed away last month. But her last wish was to have a Mocha Frappe at this cafe before she died.” The old man looked at the waiter with a smile on his face. The kind of smile that is a mere paint job. Art so shoddy that it barely hides the deep crevices of sadness within the old man.

“I am so sorry to hear that, sir. My condolences are with you. Is there anything else you would want me to get you?” The waiter asked, eager to get away from this conversation which took an unexpected awkward turn.

“No, my dear, one Mocha Frappe, please.”

“Sure, sir.” He walked away with a nod of acknowledgment.

The old man looked outside the tinted glass and saw the wave of tourists walking on the busy street. He remembered how just two years back, he and his wife walked across the street and spotted this cafe. How they sat at the same table and how his wife had ordered a Mocha Frappe. Her happy face when she had the first sip of her drink. The thoughts then drifted away. She was on her bed in Chennai while he was sitting next to her. He remembered how tightly he held her hand, hoping this would prevent her from leaving him. How she reminisced about having a drink in this cafe and how she had told him that when she got OK, she would want to visit the cafe again. And then he remembered how his wife took her last breath, her hand in his.

The tears came back, and this time they were not a trickle.

“I am in Bali, Shaheen, and no, I am not with my boyfriend. We broke up last week. So I decided to come to Bali. Oh, thank you so much, Kapil. You guys are so nice. I do not know what I would have done without you all. You are my lifeline.” A young woman, probably in her late teens, opened the door to ‘Cafe Happiness’ and walked in while talking to someone on the phone.

“Alright, guys, I am about to grab some food, and I have to end my live. And therefore it is time to reveal the surprise I had been telling you about. The surprise is that I will be meeting one of you guys today. So for all my fans in Bali, here is your chance to meet me. I am in Seminyak in a warm cafe called ‘Cafe Happiness. All you have to do is tell me in my DMs why you think I should meet you, and I will choose one lucky winner to come and meet me for dinner today. Let’s get going. Buh Bye. Muah!!” Yamini, or Yams as she would like herself to be called, gave a flying kiss to her followers on Instagram and disconnected the live. Finally, for the first time, she looked around for a table to sit at. Dressed in a sheer white top and a yellow bikini, which she had matched with a pair of denim shorts and slippers, she decided to sit at the table next to the old man. Loud as she always has been, Yams called for the waiter, leaving no stone unturned in ensuring that the waiter heard her.

“Excuse me! Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!” the last iteration of ‘Excuse me’ was accompanied by more than the usual loud thud on the table.

“Coming right away, mam” The startled waiter waved back from behind the counter.

“One Mocha Frappe, please.” She told the waiter when she came to her table. Keeping her shades and purse on the table, she took out a small mirror from her bag and started adjusting her lipstick. Suddenly as she remembered something, she shouted at the waiter who had started for the counter, “Excuse me! Could you also please add one muffin to my order? I am so hungry.”

The loud commotion beside his table brought the old man back to the present. He looked to his right to see who was making the noise. Yams coincidentally looked back at the old man and saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Are you OK?” Yams stopped adjusting her lipstick and asked the old man.

“Yeah, yeah, I am OK.” He averted his gaze and tried to hide his face by looking at the other side.

“No, you are not. You are clearly crying.” She stood up and sat at the old man’s table and continued. “Listen, I know I do not know you, but if there is anything I can help you with, please let me know.” She said, visibly concerned.

He wanted to be alone with the memories of his wife. The day was about having the Mocha Frappe with his beloved Mrs. Iyengar one last time, and he would not let anyone take the moment away from him. He wiped his tears and turned to face Yams.

“I am OK, dear. Thank you. And yes, you can help me. If you could…….” He stopped short of asking her to leave but could not complete the sentence as he could not believe what he saw.

She was fair, almost beige in her skin tone. Her lustrous black long hair with the thickness of the Niagra falls fell on her back. The almond-shaped eyes that peered through her oval face unveiled the goodness of her heart to anyone who took a moment to notice. Her high cheekbones accentuated that smile that uncovered the white pearls inside and straightened out any worry the observer might face.

He pinched himself to confirm that he was not dreaming. But here she was in front of him—Mrs. Iyengar in flesh and blood.

“I would be thrilled if you could share a Mocha Frappe with me, please.” he said.