Klash of the Konfessioners

November 28, 2007


Filed under: Uncategorized — DokSaab @ 11:17 pm


  • a beverage consisting of a decoction or infusion of the roasted ground or crushed seeds (coffee beans) of the two-seeded fruit (coffee berry) of certain coffee trees.
  • a cup of coffee
  • a social gathering at which coffee and other refreshments are served


Nandini Sen (120)

With a steaming cup of coffee, I sat thinking about my Klash entry. Coffee got over, but no inspiration struck. Drat, instant variety doesn’t help, lets try filter coffee.

While brewing the dark concoction an inviting aroma filled my nostrils. Laced with milk and sugar, the nectar was just right. Why don’t they ever make Coffee scented deos?

Twenty minutes later, I had an empty mug, and a blank mind.

Probably, I’ll just write what I overheard at the market yesterday.

Chotu, the cobbler, returned Sethji’s dropped wallet. Sethiji held out a 10rupee note.

Chotu: Sethji mujhe kafi de do

Sethji: Kya Rs10 kafi nahin

Chotu pointed at the coffee mug etched on the fancy restaurant’s door and said “Kafi”

Genuine Fake (110)

I graze greener pastures,

I wake beyond the sleeping masses,

I live in rich taste,

Yet not a minute I waste,

Because of the caffeine in the blood,

I write, I think and I prod,

For thou enliven me,

Thy cream and thy sugar,

They oh so comfort me.

Now I walk in the shadowed valley of your addiction,

Sometime in jubilation, sometime in affliction,

But I shall continue to anoint another day,

With coffee gracing my mug whenever it may,

And I shall savor the frappes,

And the delicious carafes,

And I would dwell in the House of Mochas,

Relieving from all, the oka, the rum or the vodka..


Santonu (119)

I was lying on the table when the darkness of the big hall was settling down. I was reminiscing the day. Only one table inside the coffee house was occupied in the morning, old folks chatted about each other’s family. They spilled me off from their cups and that’s how I’m here, they were relaxed, but the young writers weren’t happy at all, although they consumed cups of coffee sitting for there for hours. Smoke and noise filled in Coffee House as the students poured in the afternoon; the evening came with bright couples. People say tough intellectuals meet here for the coffee, but I saw humane life over coffee before the wet cloth wiped me off.


Richa Gupta (120)

“Just black, no sugar” Zohra turned around. She hadn’t heard this voice in 10 years. Her mind went back to when she had been 18 and had met the 35 yr old Aslam, a widely acclaimed writer…long hair, black framed glasses, ragged jeans, the personification of all stereotypes. Even his black coffee had been so “adult” so “serious”. She had been enthralled but soon disillusion had set in. He spent hours locked inside his own mind, thinking… writing…creating and she was shut out. Many a mornings the empty coffee cups were the only indicators that Aslam had been home. Even his black coffee irritated her…it was so “pretentious!!” She had grown out of him. Looking at him now she wished…


Dok Saab (120)

(all characters and events in this klash are imaginary. Any resemblance with people is only coincidental)

“CCD 16hrs……AS” the SMS read.
It was well past five now. The café was full.
The waiter came for the fourth time.
“Your order, sir.”
“I am waiting for someone” I told him once again.
“It’s already been more than an hour, would you mind waiting outside”
“Ok give me one coffee, please” I offered, though I hated coffee.
I wouldn’t be here had she not called me here.
“Hot or cold”
“Hot” who needed cold in December?
“Cappuccino or Mocha”
I didn’t knew the difference anyway.
No sign of her and it was five forty-five.
I tried to take a sip from that dark, bitter, burning concoction.

The bitter taste of that coffee still lingers in my mouth.


Sarang Mahajan (120)

In Gokulgram, there lived a mean little girl called Coffee. She loved spying over Lord Krishna and obstructing him in playing the naughty pranks he was famous for. But when it came to meeting Radha, she’d go to any extent to stop him. One dawn, when Krishna was cleverly escaping mother Yashoda’s custody to meet Radha at the bank of Yamuna, Coffee, who was hiding nearby purposely, made a big noise to wakeup Yashoda. Recaptured and angry, Lord Krishna cursed her, ‘you are jealous of us loving souls, so hereon, you should be the first reason for two tender hearts to meet and know each other. And while their romance blossoms, you should fume in a cup listening to them.’


Mandappa KC (116)

My sweet Dusky lady

Oh my sweet dusky lady.

My sweet dusky lady.

Heat me up, when I’m cold

Make me young when I’m old.

Wake me up, when I’m out.

Perk me up, when I’m down.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

The way you slide in and fire my veins

Rising passion out on the plains

Steam rising in to the mist

Red hot our every morning tryst.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady

Tender kisses on raw tongue taste

We meet even if I’ve got no time to waste

I cant live without you my sweet

Without you, I’d be dead beat.

My sweet dusky lady.

Oh my sweet dusky lady


GSV (114)

‘Tea or Coffee’?

‘Tea! Dont bring that beans-stuff for me, beverage for the elite’!

‘What happened’?


‘Tell me’!

‘Today Commissioner sahab visited our office and I was supposed to make arrangements.For the Breakfast Meeting, I placed order for three different varieties of biscuits,garnished veg butter toast and extra special cardamom Tea, and you guess what happenend next’?


“After breakfast, the principal secretary asked me ‘Are you new to civil services? Don’t you know tea is an informal drink, have you ever seen tea being served at Marriage, Functions, and kitty parties! Its always Coffee!’ “

“Hahaha…You tell me one thing dear,before our marriage, why did you always offered me Coffee during Tea-breaks?”


Hummingnerd (99)

2 O’clock.
too cold to sleep,
a rotten taste in my mouth,
my eyes are deep…


I had a big crush
on this girl who used to blush;
asked her out for a cup of tea
said she liked coffee

so we went on in her car
a scent of coffee validated the hour.
I said, “I love thee”
“But, I love louie”, said she.

What happened next is easy to see
a cup of troubles
it turned out to be
I gave up on my tea
and now in bed, I’m having my
bitter coffee.


Kavish Sinha (120)

Brown bubbles skate across
the smooth, scalding surface,
and cluster at the brim
of the hot mug of dark brew.

They crowd each other,
and murmur steamy coffee yarns
They nudge one another,
Happy to see her around

Each bubble is anxious
to be the first one to burst,
and flick its rich, sharp scent;
into the crisp and clean of her’s.

There they pass through the lips
Each relieved to be touching in
Its beans have been crushed
In its trodding serving bliss.

I am warmed on the thought of coffee
I call myself fanatic

I can learn a good deal from it
That satiates me with its death
May I serve the maiden?
Who is now my addict!


Konfessioner Singh(120)

You can’t match men with coffees. They aren’t deep enough for that sort of thing…and girlfriends ought to share everything over chocolate sundaes and maggi. It’s really all about how you grow with coffee.

I remember the first three grains in a big red mug and an arghhh face, the okay-let’s stay awake with coffee trial and of course! The ‘I’m a writer so I like mine black’ phase. I tried to impress him with the latter…he laughed. Okay, maybe I took it too personally and the result was my version—one big pretty looking mug with a history, freshly ground Turkish black with a spoonful of condensed milk. I remember him when it’s bitter and home when it’s sweet.

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