The lonely Nescafe Guy of Azad.

I can't work on computer for long. Most of us can't. When the eyes start burning and the back goes stiff, some of us sit back and listen to songs, some chat with room partners, while some really tough 'machomen' continue with what they were doing. I, having the privilege of living on the second floor of Azad with a wide corridor in front of the door, tend to walk outside of my room. The plush green trees outside and the soothing breeze give a kind of unique freshness, with a tinge of divinity, i must say. But then, i look down, and at a little distance ahead, i see a man sitting close to a pathetically small cubicle, with 'NESCAFE' written in bold fonts, accompanied by a girl's picture sipping hot coffee...

I look at the person carefully. Not a child, not an old baba either. A 40 something guy he is. Always sitting on the same chair, sometimes inside the cubicle, sometimes outside. He also sees me back. But his eyes seem kinda blank to me. Students come in groups, have their coffee, talk about their regular mundane life, the assignments, the hall tempo, the GC fights, the absence of 'quality' girls in KGP, while criticizing their maggu room partners, the mindless profs., and the sucking insti as a whole. He listens to them with intent. Sometimes smiles, too. But i can see that the sincerity of a smile is not there on his face. The chatters go back, and so does his smile. What remains there is his solitude, and the girl sipping coffee on the top of that nescafe thing.

Every night, i can see him sitting on his chair, all alone till 2 am. And hell, he doesn't even yawn!

Sometimes he seems kind of a saint to me, who has risen above all the worldly stuff like insti gossips, timepass bhaats, GPLs, Bhajans, Orkut, Iron Maiden, Pink Floyd, Counter strike, Basketball, C.G. load, Poltu, Bandis and this IIT KGP as a whole...

Like a small island in a big ocean. All engulfed in himself. Analysing and catalysing his own soul. Has he ever had a cup of coffee for himself? I doubt.

• I appreciate his soulful solitude.

• I pity his tasteless days (and a large chunk of nights).

and,

• I fear his extreme loneliness.

Imagine this. You are sitting in the middle of a buzzing crowd of people, all laughing and chatting and dancing to alien tunes, while the only thing you can do is to sit back and see them. Its like watching a boring movie again and again, without the option of fast forwarding, pausing or changing to a different one.

Had I been in place of him, i would have eaten all the stuff myself, and walked away, for i can't bear this type of gradually paralyzing, choking and brain cuffing kind of loneliness.

Someday or the other, i m really gonna go for a coffee, and have a hearty chat with that guy. I want to know what worldly adhesive is bonding him to this kind of life. I really do.