Coffee House memories

Coffee House memories Talking was the tradition at the old Indian Coffee House in Pondy. remember being amazed at the long conversations that Pondyans, usually two or three men together, would have late in the morning or afternoon while the turbaned waiters stood around and the flies finished up the leftover coffee. The heat of Nehru Street outside of the open, louvered doors had none of the motorbike bustle of today. Swami Gitananda, his full white beard contrasting with orange robes, trawled for foreigners to bring to his Lawspet ashram, where he lectured them about their un-yogic ways and demonstrated how he could consciously reduce his pulse rate to 18 beats a minute. The coffee was never quite hot enough and the food was mediocre, but it was a coffee "house," not a meals hotel or a tea stall. You went out of there, your bum branded with wicker indentations, ready to wander through the streets of the French Quarter and watch Ashramites leisurely cycle through the quiet evenings.