A Chocolate Haven

Call me old fashioned but I fancy chocolate over any other fancy flavours. Whether it’s a hot drink or an iced treat, I’d always go for chocolate. And no matter how much of mint, white chocolate chips, slivered nuts, or trickles of orange you blend with it, plain chocolate (coated with chocolate) has an unmatched taste of its own.

That’s why I felt like stepping into paradise when I stepped into Zuka. It’s a cafe in Pondicherry that celebrates chocolate as much as I do. Even as you walk towards the entrance, a whiff of fresh chocolate reaches out to you, teasing your most determined dietary restriction.

Well, that may be an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

zuka-chocolate-cafe

Stamped on the door was a seal of their brand, in an unsurprising shade of chocolate. And on the inside, they display a shameless amount of chocolate treats, pastries, and cakes. From flavoured tarts to dark-nut truffles, marbled candy to marvelling cakes, every inch of the cafe’s offering reeks chocolate.

It was beautiful.

In various shapes and colours, they sell shortcuts to diabetes. All around me were cars, bunnies, chunks, disks, and brownies—all of them chocolate. And as if that wasn’t enough, there were even melting pots of chocolate. I couldn’t have been happier.

And for the caffeine addict in me, they even had chocolate-espresso mousse, topped with a coffee bean made of chocolate. And to go with that, a coffee-flavoured cake, with a coating of chocolate goodness.

The place wasn’t large. But it was cosy. As soon as you walk in, you’d know you want to grab a chair and spend all day staring at the goodies behind the glass. From its plaided walls to its polished posters, the cafe would’ve made anyone liven up their moods and lighten their wallets. Such artistic interior with everything paying homage to a miracle bean.

I had found paradise in that little cafe. And to add chocolate to chocolate, they seemed to agree with what I profess:

happiness-is-chocolate

Zuka has made it to my list. The next time I’m in town—heck, I’d go into town just for this place.

At Peace

Whether it had been a long day at work or a longer day with no work, there’s one thing that always calms my nerves. It’s coffee, of course.

But when you’re at the Lé Café in Pondicherry, the coffee arrives just as the sun begins to rise. Now that’s more than relaxing. It’s divine peace.

relax

Silent, Suffering

silent-suffering

The block had hit hard.

Poised for the first word in days,

“Martyr,” her hand wrote.

Aftermath of a Challenge

One morning a couple of weeks ago, I sat in front of an open document, fingers poised over my keyboard waiting for the words to flow.

They didn’t.

I was stuck. I didn’t know what to do. I sat there for about an hour before deciding to do something else. I browsed through The Daily Post looking for ideas when I found the section on blogging challenges.

It couldn’t hurt, I thought and dove in. The first challenge that interested me was the Incredible Blogger Marathon Challenge. Now that is one good title. It triggered my curiosity and piqued my ego to just the right level. I wanted to be that Incredible Blogger. And a posting marathon is a challenge I could take.

incredible-blogger-marathon-challenge

I took it. It was a ten-post challenge, but I could take up to 15 days to complete it. I challenged myself to publish a post a day and finish the challenge in ten days.

The next two weeks was one of the best spells I’ve had in my blogging experience. It wasn’t easy as eating pie. It was as complex as baking one myself. But it was great fun. I had to think in ways I hadn’t done before. And the weirdest thing is that I had to first explain to myself how I felt about certain topics, before giving words to my thoughts.

It warped my head, but it gave me something to write about every day. It kept me going, even if I didn’t want to.

And now, it feels wonderful when I look back. It forced me to explore a whole new area in writing and I’m glad I took the challenge.

Have you ever taken up a blogging challenge? How did you feel afterward?

The Real World

Over the past few weeks, every colleague stopping by my desk would take a look at the book next to me and remark that it was such a classic story. I smiled when it happened for the first time. I had known that, of course.

And yet, as more people said the same thing over and over again, I began to get annoyed. I felt like an idiot because I hadn’t read the book for so long. It was 1984, after all.

The book, and not the year — in case you were wondering.

Now, however, I’m done. I’ve finished reading the book and I feel like kicking myself for not reading it sooner. Nevertheless, the book left me astounded, wondering if there was anything in my life that I think is true is indeed true.

It left me with a deep sense of insecurity and self-doubt. I do realise that it’s fiction, but it oozes reality in so many levels.

I’m a minimalist, but I would never apply the same minimal logic to words and human expression. When it comes to speaking and voicing thoughts, the more ways to say it, the better it is. But here’s what scared me: I agree that we should get rid of stuff that mean no meaning anymore. In that sense, when the concept of freedom itself is no more, it makes sense, in certain sense, to eliminate the word altogether — or forget that we even had such a word. But even to think, for a moment, that we don’t need freedom is a messed-up way of life.

And that’s what the book did to me. It messed me up. It messed with my head, and my ability to cope with the reality of the world. It’s possible that our world would become the next Oceania. The Party is, of course, just a bunch of power-hungry people craving to keep the masses out of their way and the working class in their wake. It’s the reality of every nation in the world. There’s just a tiny tipping point between a real party and the Party. Every day, we hear news of people gone missing, of people rebelling, of the rebels who died in battle, of torture and murder, even suppressed free thought. It’s all happening, each day all around us, right in front of us.

And yet, we call 1984 a fiction. It’s not. It’s our lives. Only, we love the Party too much to realise the truth and think for ourselves. In a world that still penalises people of other beliefs, advocates singularity, and abhors variety in even skin tones and vocal chords, it’s only a matter of time before two plus two become five.

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