One of Those Starbucks Stories

I think I always conflicted with an idea of having a single identity. One name, one man, all leading to one destiny. I’ve always seen myself as a diacritical sort of a human. One that grows to fill certain voids, then go on to outgrow those very voids in search of other. It is in the fluidity of meanings, the ever evolving spaces of reality, that I find some sort of sense. Maybe, my peace lies not in rest but in mobility.

As I take slow sips of my hazelnut latte, extra caffeine and not usual, I don’t find my answers in the space that presents itself to be real to my senses. I find it in the melodies of old Hindi songs. As I feel the long raked up unfinished thoughts  surfacing to scratch the walls of my brain, and probably my heart, I immerse myself in a dialogue with the voice of Lata Mangeshkar. I don’t think I can ever restrict her songs to compartmentalized meanings of aesthetics. Like my own identity, I see these songs transcending structures of predefined voids and conquered territories of reason. I see them forming a new representation system that feels personally customized to engender within me this catharsis of sorts which is not of heightened degrees of emotions but of calming sensibilities. I can feel my thoughts getting reorganized, things being cleaned and sorted, and during this process, emergence of some lost things that I don’t even remember losing but recognize their importance. This voice, these songs, are nothing less than a revelation to me.

So, as I wait for my another cup of coffee, I don’t expect to be called out with my real name. Yes, I have multiple Starbucks names. I don’t know whether it’s even significant or not but it feels good to be someone else for a while. No matter even it is for few seconds. Well, why call it being someone else? To those who tend to outgrow, this is just an another form of being oneself.

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