Before The Coffee Gets Cold

What Would You Do If You Could Time Travel?

I began listening to the audiobook thinking it would simply be a light companion for my commute; a short pastime without much expectation. And, It took me a while to get used to the characters’ Japanese names because they instantly reminded me of the cartoons my son used to watch as a toddler. So for a while, I could only imagine them in cartoonish form. But as the stories unfolded, I found myself drawn into the quiet depth; the novel opened little windows into love, regret, forgiveness, and the courage to move forward.

Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi is a gentle, bittersweet Japanese novel set in a tiny Tokyo cafe called Funiculi Funicula. This cafe has a curious, almost magical rule — if you sit in a particular seat, you can travel back in time. But you must return before your coffee gets cold.

The book weaves four intertwined yet independent stories:

1. The Lovers – Goro is leaving Japan for a job in America, never clearly telling Fumiko their relationship is over. Hoping to change his decision, Fumiko travels back to their last meeting. She fails to alter his choice but finds the strength to accept it without resentment.

2. Husband and Wife – Fusagi suffers from early-onset Alzheimer’s and is beginning to forget his wife, Kohtake. She travels back to receive a letter he once wrote but never delivered. It’s filled with love, and while his condition won’t change, her heart finds peace.

3. The Sisters – Hirai has always avoided her family and Kumi, her younger sister. Kumi’s sudden death leaves her aching for one last talk. She gets it — along with the words, “I just want you to be happy.”

4. Mother and Child – Kei has a medical condition that means giving birth will end her life. She chooses to travel forward in time to meet her unborn daughter, knowing she will never raise her. The meeting is bittersweet, but it comforts Kei to know her child will be loved.

All these stories are anchored by Kazu Tokita, the serene waitress who guards the rules of time travel, and Nagare Tokita, the warm-hearted cafe owner. Kazu is like the human embodiment of a clock — calm, precise, and always moving forward at the same pace.

She isn’t emotional, just like time; She's indifferent to joys and regrets. And, Nagare is the host of the space — the one who makes sure visitors feel at home before they confront their past.

And then there is a ghost -  a woman in a white dress who always sits in “the” seat — the only seat that allows time travel.She spends her time quietly reading a novel, seemingly indifferent to everyone around her. 

Her backstory is that she herself once tried to use the time travel to meet someone in the past. For some reason, she stayed behind as a spirit, bound to that seat. Her presence is a subtle warning: even if you get the chance to revisit the past, you must return… or risk being stuck forever.

This novel left me reflecting... In life, we may not get to rewrite our past, but we can change how we carry it.  What’s magical isn’t the time travel itself, but what happens afterward.

Each person learns that closure isn’t about rewriting history, it’s about rewriting our hearts. A conversation, a goodbye, a moment of honesty… We can’t hold on to yesterday, but we can hold on to the love and lessons it leaves behind.

The novel quietly reminds us:

☕ Don’t wait to love, to forgive, to speak.

☕ You may not be able to change the past, but you can change what you carry into the future.

☕ Time is always shorter than we think.

In the end, it’s not about going back. It’s about moving forward, warmer inside, before the coffee gets cold.

And yes, I may have just told you the whole story… but I couldn’t share this book review without sharing its heart. You’ll still want to read it yourself — the real magic is in experiencing it firsthand. 

P.S. - Honestly, the book does have its repetitions and can feel a bit stretched at times... but perhaps that slow, lingering pace is part of its charm, like sipping coffee that’s just warm enough to make you stay a little longer.

Friendship Without Purpose

We’ve grown up hearing — “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”

And it’s true in its own way. The ones who stand by us in difficult times do hold a special place in our lives.

But with time, I’ve come to see the limitation of that definition.

Because not all true friends are available when we’re in need; not because they don’t care, but because life, distance, and circumstance simply don’t allow it.

With those friends, the bond isn’t defined by how quickly they respond to your SOS, but by how freely you can be yourself when you do reconnect. There’s no need, no crisis, no expectation, and yet, the connection feels complete.

They may not be the “friends in need,”

but they are the friends in essence.

Their presence doesn’t fix a problem,

it simply fills your soul.

“And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.”

– Kahlil Gibran

We live in a world where everything has a purpose, a goal, a measurable outcome. Even relationships are sometimes evaluated by what they give us - contacts, connections, comfort. But real friendship quietly rebels against this logic.

Just last week, I met two of my school friends during an official visit. My friends from 1st standard - my BFFs. All three of us are scattered in different directions, geographically, professionally, and in the rhythms of life. There’s no fixed routine, no group chats buzzing every day, and no logical converging point anymore.

But we still made time.

In the middle of busy schedules and limited windows, we managed to meet, even if just for a little while. And when we did, we talked non-stop, as if we were back in our school times.

There was no reason to meet.

No crisis to solve.

No news to break.

Just that intangible pull of connection, of being understood without effort.

And that’s when it hit me: this is the kind of friendship Gibran speaks of.

No purpose, just presence.

Gibran writes, “Love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.”

A friendship that expects loyalty, demands attention, or exists only when needed is like a net.. a setup to catch something. But a friendship that simply expresses care, shares presence, and reveals itself without expectations is pure and soulful.

So let’s allow our friendships to be gentle : not projects, not transactions, not tests of loyalty.

Let them be spaces where souls breathe freely.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

In the end, it’s the little things that stay with us: A shared joke from childhood, the comfort of speaking your mind without explaining yourself, that one sentence only they would understand.

These moments don’t serve a grand purpose. They just refresh the soul, like morning dew.

Ud Jayega - When life whispers its uncertainity

It was just another day-end time, when I was sitting in my cab heading back from office. Amazon music was playing softly - my little ritual to shake off the day's stress.

But my thoughts were elsewhere.

Wandering around the distressing news I’d heard over the last couple of days

An airplane crash… 241 lives gone in seconds, dreams dissolved mid-air.

A young soul lost, suddenly to sheer fatigue.

A retired uncle from our neighboring society gone while simply watering plants on the 14th floor. A small slip, a fatal fall. Just like that.

How uncertain life really is!! I wondered.

And just then, "Ud jayega hans akela" started playing, as if responding to my thoughts. The song felt more soothing than ever. I switched it to repeat mode for the rest of the journey. 

The song reflects on the impermanence of life, the futility of material attachments, and the inevitability of death.

It didn’t explain life.

It didn’t fix anything.

But it gently reminded of a truth we often forget:

We’re all just passing through.

No one knows for how long.

So maybe — just maybe — the point isn’t to chase or hold too tight.

But to be present. To love a little more. To breathe.

"Ud jaayega, na aayega, hans akela..."

The soul will fly away, never to return.

Alone.

There is a quiet fear in that truth.

But there’s also a strange kind of peace - the kind that doesn’t promise control but invites surrender.

Surrender to the now.

To the breath.

To the people who still sit beside us.

🎵 Lyrics and song here

Seenchega Kaun Hum Jo Murjhaayen

Thaamega Kaun Hum Jo Gir Jaye

Ud Jaayega, Na Aayega, Hans Akela

Ud Jaayega, Na Aayega, Hans Akela

Ruk Ja Zara Kaise Samjhayen

Tu Jo Kahe Vaise Ban Jaayen

Sabar Ki Ungli Thaam Le

Safar Pe Naa Ja Musafir Samjhen Nahi Hain Jo Kabhi

Jo Naa Suna Hai Bata Phir

Tu Tere Raste Main Mere Raste

Rona Hai Phir Kyo Chal Hanste Hanste

Ud Jaayega, Na Aayega, Hans Akela

Not a Leap, But a Spiral

Inspired by a corporate training session, this thought stayed with me...

What if the secret to managing change wasn’t found in strategy decks—but in sunflowers and seashells?

The Beauty of Fibonacci

The Fibonacci sequence is a simple yet profound number pattern:

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21…

Each number is the sum of the two before it. 

I remember getting introduced to this topic in high school. Back then, it was just a number pattern in maths - interesting but abstract.

What makes it fascinating is how often this pattern appears in the natural world:

🌻 Sunflower seeds arranged in perfect spirals.

🐚 Shells expanding in logarithmic harmony.

🌲 Tree branches and pinecones aligned to optimize sunlight and growth.

🌼 Even flower petals often follow Fibonacci numbers-3, 5, 8, 13...

Nature grows patiently and purposefully. There’s no rush,only rhythm.

Fibonacci, Atomic Habits, and Change

When I re-learned about the Fibonacci concept during a corporate training, it struck a chord.

It reminded me of the ideas from Atomic Habits by James Clear: Start small, stay consistent, let it compound.

Fibonacci indeed isn’t just a pattern in nature. It’s a pattern for change.

The Fibonacci Flow of Change

1. Start Small - 0, 1

Every transformation begins with a tiny step. It might be a mindset shift, a small pilot, or simply showing up with intention.

At first, it may seem too minor to matter—but that’s where real change begins.

2. Build Gradually -1, 2, 3

Each step builds on what came before.

Like the Fibonacci series, change draws from the past and looks to the future, growing with confidence and clarity.

3. Grow Organically - 5, 8, 13...

As change compounds, it gathers momentum. Teams align, systems adapt, and what once felt uncertain becomes second nature. Change doesn’t feel like disruption, it feels like evolution.

Why This Matters

In a fast-paced world, we’re pushed toward “instant transformation", we realize that lasting change isn’t a leap, it’s a spiral.

Just like in nature, meaningful change happens when we:

🌱 Respect sequence

🌿 Scale thoughtfully

🌳 Grow organically

The next time you're navigating change-whether it’s personal, professional, or organizational-pause.

Think of the sunflower...the seashell... the Fibonacci sequence...

Nature knows what it’s doing.

Empty Your Cup

A young scholar once travelled across the land to meet a revered Zen master. He had studied scriptures, philosophies, sciences, and poetry. His shelves were lined with books; his head, with knowledge.

“I’ve read almost everything,” he told the master, “but I seek deeper wisdom. Teach me.”

The master nodded and invited him for tea.

As the scholar spoke — about his views, his interpretations, his brilliance — the master began to pour tea into his cup.

He poured. And poured. And kept pouring, even after the cup overflowed.

“Stop!” the scholar exclaimed. “It’s spilling over! Can’t you see the cup is full?”

The master gently placed the kettle down and looked at him.

“Exactly,” he said. “How can I teach you anything unless you first empty your cup?”

I’m reminded of this story often — especially when I catch myself, or others, believing we’ve seen enough, learned enough, suffered enough. That we somehow know more than others.

That’s when I remind myself: it’s time to empty the cup.

The scholar, filled with knowledge and assumptions, had no room left for insight. The master’s simple gesture revealed a profound truth — that true learning begins only when we are willing to let go of what we think we know.

We grow up with a certain idea of how life should unfold — who’s ahead, who’s struggling, who’s “meant” to succeed. Sometimes, those early impressions stick. The ones who topped every test, shone in every competition — they seemed destined for greatness. And some of us just quietly accepted our place in the background.

But life has its own rhythm. It flips the script in unexpected ways. The brightest stars at 16 may not shine the same way at 40. The ones who stumbled early might find their pace later. And those who seemed “lucky” may simply have been quietly navigating their path, making the best of each twist and turn.

It’s tempting to blame fate — for what didn’t go right, for the dreams that didn’t materialize. But sometimes, clinging to the story of “bad luck” becomes a shield — one that protects us from confronting our own choices, or even acknowledging that everyone’s fighting their own silent battles. 

The narratives we construct about ourselves and others often don't hold up to reality.  True peace comes not from winning or proving ourselves, but from emptying our cup full of comparisons, old narratives, and the need for external validation. 

May we learn to approach life with humility of an empty cup and may we find peace and wisdom in embracing the beauty of the unknown.

Train Journeys & Time Travel

The rhythmic movement of the train, the constant hum of conversations, the occasional cries of babies, fill the compartment. A father walks up and down the aisle, gently rocking his crying child, trying to calm him. It all feels familiar, yet different.

Sitting in the Rajdhani Express to Goa with my parents, I find myself lost in a stream of memories.

There’s something special about train journeys. They aren’t just about getting from one place to another; they carry stories, emotions, and nostalgia. As I glance at the kids in the nearby berths-laughing, climbing up and down, fighting over the window seat, I can’t help but be reminded of my own childhood travels. The excitement of summer vacations, the thrill of hopping from one berth to another, the joy of watching the scenery shift from city to hills and plains.

As I watch the changing landscape outside, another journey from long ago comes rushing back to me.

The last time I traveled to Goa by train to my maternal uncle's home, I must have been around ten years old. The rain was relentless, pouring down, drenching everything in sight. I remember the train getting delayed, the tracks submerged in water, and the journey being abruptly halted a few stations away from our destination. I had no idea what was going on with Mom and Dad or how they were managing our luggage in all that chaos. All I and my sis cared about was the magical world outside, lush greenery, overflowing waterfalls coming down the hills. The weather was perfect, and for us, it was nothing short of an adventure.

We had to switch to a bus from the point where the train stopped. The bus was packed to the brim, barely any room to breathe. But somehow, my sister and I managed to get seats near the driver’s cabin, while Mom and Dad stood the entire way. I remember a lady standing close to us, carrying a basket that smelled strongly of fish. But what I remember most about her was her warm, kind smile and she was saying something in Konkani which I didnt understand.

Back then, I lived completely in the moment, soaking in the beauty of the journey, blissfully unaware of the struggles my parents faced. 

Today, as I sit in this train, I see the same journey through a different lens. I’m no longer the carefree child who only cares about the scenery. Now, I find myself keeping an eye on my dad, making sure he doesn’t indulge too much in sugary tea and sweets. I glance at my mom, noticing her anxiousness, reassuring her with a simple nods.

As I sit in this train, lost in nostalgia, another journey from a different phase of life comes to mind, one from my youthful spinster years, when I traveled with my  friend. It was a special trip, not just because of the destination but because of where I was in life. I was about to get married in a couple of months, stepping into a new chapter, leaving behind the carefree days of singlehood.

That night, we didn’t sleep. We talked endlessly, laughing, reminiscing, soaking in the moment as if we could somehow make time pause. We knew that life was about to change, that things wouldn’t be quite the same again. We wanted the train to halt just a little longer, to let us hold onto that fleeting phase of life. There was excitement, but also a quiet ache, an unspoken understanding that this moment was special because it would never come back.

It’s interesting how train journeys seem to mark these transitions in life. As a child, they were pure adventure. As a young adult, they were filled with deep conversations and emotions. And now, they are moments of reflection, of watching over the very people who once watched over us. We start noticing the little things, their silent worries, their unspoken exhaustion, their need for reassurance.

This train ride made me realize that the scenery outside keeps changing, just like life itself. But some things, memories, emotions, and the love we carry stay with us, no matter where the journey takes us next.

The Underrated Virtue of Gratitude

I have written about gratitude in some of my earlier posts as well. I write about it again today, because I feel its extremely underrated tool towards betterment. I feel that people nowadays tend to complain a lot, and sometimes they have valid reasons to do so.  I agree with their concerns but I wonder if they are looking at the bigger picture.

I am not immune to complaining and cribbing either.. I am no saint and things do affect me.  But, I learnt early in my life that appreciating the little things in life helps us be not dissappointed and we tend to get pleasantly surprised often with the gifts that life brings to us. By keeping our hearts open we discover that the world gives us back more than we expect. 

Gratitude is a calming balm for our mind and heart, reminding us that even in uncertain times, there is always something to be thankful for. 

Some of my previous posts around the same theme :

Navigating disappointments with Grace

THORN BUSH has ROSES.. :)

Routine - Sounds boring?

Gratitude is a muscle that can be developed with practice. Start small. Start it today. 

Taking just a few minutes regularly to write down what you’re grateful for can truly transform your mindset. 

Here’s how it helps: 

Shifts Your Perspective: Focusing on the positive aspects of your life helps you see the silver linings, even on tough days. 

Reduces Anxiety & Depression: Research shows that expressing gratitude can lead to lower levels of anxiety and depression, promoting a more optimistic outlook. 

Enhances Well-Being: This simple practice brings feelings of contentment and joy, helping you appreciate the little things. 

Encourages Reflection: Taking time to reflect on your blessings cultivates mindfulness and a deeper connection to your life. 

In today's world, where uncertainty can be overwhelming, cultivating gratitude can be a powerful anchor. It helps us stay grounded, focused on the present, and be appreciative of what we have, rather than getting caught up in worries about the future or regrets about the past.

I would end this post with a poem written by Kalidasa: 

SALUTATION TO THE DAWN 

Look to this day! 

For it is life, the very life of life. 

In its brief course 

Lie all the verities and realities of your existence: 

The bliss of growth 

The glory of action 

The splendour of achievement. 

For yesterday is but a dream 

And tomorrow is only a vision, 

But today well lived makes yesterday a dream of happiness 

And every tomorrow a vision of hope. 

Look well, therefore, to this day! 

Such is the salutation to the dawn.