The aroma fills the air, my nostrils send nerve signals to my caffeine addicted part of the brain. My brain interprets it as jolly time. A smile brightens up my face as my mom lovingly calls me over for my glass of kaapi. It is nostalgic, reminds me of home no matter where I am.

Filter kaapi as it is known in south India, is a sweet milky coffee made from dark roasted coffee beans. Mostly arabica and robusta, the devout enthusiasts might appreciate. The origins of coffee culture goes back centuries. A revered Muslim sage Baba Budan is credited to have introduced coffee in India. The Malabar hills became the early abode for coffee and various coffee traditions that spread throughout India. It became the drink of the millions under the British Raj and became a cultural icon especially in parts of south India.

What makes filter coffee so different from its brethren is its traditional methods of preparation. The coffee is brewed with a two cylinder cup device with a pierced bottom that pours into the tumbler cup, which receives the strained brew. The mixture may contain chicory that adds taste and holding potent of the coffee. The brew is stronger than the western "drip style" coffee. It is served traditionally with a few tablespoons of milk,with jaggery or honey. The coffee vessel is very distinct indeed. It is served in a small steel glass with the froth brimming to the very top. And holding it, is a container with lip shaped edges.

Although my idea of it, is a large tumbler of mom's coffee. Coffee has been part of my fond childhood memories. Everything about it connects me back home. The "good times" feel seeps into my head. And the faint smile returns. Mom's kaapi rejuvenated me after a tiring day at school or basketball practice. The sweet aroma welcomed my friends and me after a delightful game of football in the rains. Coffee burnt the midnight oil for me during exams and assignment submission days during college. Hell! I even remarked to my date that my mom made better coffee than this decades old joint. The picture of dad holding his morning coffee and newspaper has been imbibed into my system from the very beginning. That I believe is the way to read the newspaper. Thousands of miles away from home yet this brew brings me right back to those revered moments of life. So as I make my way for another coffee, towards the coffee machine in my office , I hear a sweet,caring voice in the back of my head "kaapi ready!". I'm not home but it sure is homely.