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Good morning [%first_name |Dear Reader%],
Good morning! It’s once again the last day of the week and the month. As always, I’m writing to you from Saturday. It’s nice and sunny. The skies are bright and blue. And there’s a nice breeze to boot!
Since winter (or what passes for it in Bengaluru) is about to set in, I decided to write sitting in the balcony on a late afternoon. The white noise of passing traffic, rustling plants, and the occasional passing jet airplane is strangely soothing.
Though he’s been a persistent balcony barker, of late Gabru’s also getting really good at what I’d call “deep howling”. It’s usually reserved for moments when his best friend, Stella (also a black indie, like him), walks by the balcony. His throaty and heartfelt “awooooooo” is cute, amusing, and wondrous in equal measures. It makes me think “Call of the wild!” every single time! Stella, in turn, gives him a few barks of her own from down below before trotting off.
Here he is, right now, curled up at my feet.
If there’s a better template for a lazy and content weekend, I’ve yet to find it. Sorry, I missed an ingredient—coffee!
It’s funny how long I’ve been writing to you without talking about coffee. How can any day, much less an indulgent weekend, be complete without coffee?
Like most Indians of my generation (kids of the 80s), I grew up in a tea-drinking household. Love for tea is ingrained in us Indians.
I got into coffee about a decade or so ago. Or more like, fell!
If you ask me what is singularly *the* best purchase of my life, I’d have to say our espresso machine. We bought it right at the beginning of the pandemic in 2020. I would not be lying if I said it was a key reason we got through that dark period still relatively sane. It’s been our daily companion and source of joy.
The 10 minutes it takes to weigh beans, grind them, make the espresso, steam the milk, and then mix it all together (we’re primarily cappuccino drinkers) is both my domain and mind space. It is both a ritual and a reward.

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