A Sokhan Doos is a master of the imaginary world. He is a person who creates grand castles in the air, thrives on effortless banter, and practices the fine art of non-action with remarkable charm. He spends his days daydreaming, gossiping, and celebrating hypothetical victories—all without doing a single stroke of physical work.
While the rest of the world hustles to make a living, the Sokhan Doos lives happily in a world built entirely out of words.
The Sacred Shrine of Idle Talk
If you grew up in Srinagar during the golden decades, you know that the true headquarters of the Sokhan Doos was none other than the iconic India Coffee House at Regal Chowk.
Inside its dimly lit hall, filled with thick clouds of Charminar cigarette smoke and the rich aroma of roasted coffee, time stood completely still. Waiters in white uniforms and starched turbans glided between tables, serving cups of black coffee that acted as all-day entry tickets to a grand theater of ideas.
Here, under the haze of smoke and coffee vapors, empires were built, tested, and dismantled—all before lunchtime.
The Legends of the Coffee Table
The Coffee House was a melting pot of colorful regulars: poets, politicians, journalists, painters, and professional idlers. Among them, a few classic Sokhan Doos archetypes always held court:
The Coffee-House Prime Minister: Armed with a folded morning newspaper and a single cigarette stretched to its absolute limit, he knew precisely how the UN should handle international crises and how the local government should form its cabinet. He had solved every global crisis on a paper napkin, though he hadn’t worked a steady job in twenty years.
The Unwritten Genius: A poet who was perpetually on the verge of publishing a groundbreaking masterpiece. He would recite two brilliant opening lines to anyone pulling up a chair, bask in their applause, and happily live off that admiration for weeks without ever picking up a pen to write the rest.
The Blueprint Millionaire: A man with a dozen foolproof business ventures detailed in his head—from grand tourist resorts to international export houses. He would spend hours explaining his multi-lakh schemes with infectious passion, completely satisfied with the illusion of success.
The Tragic Genius of the Corner Table
Yet, among the lighthearted daydreamers were tragic intellects who surrendered their entire lives to the Coffee House.
I distinctly recall one such figure—a gentleman of extraordinary eloquence. He possessed a breathtaking command of the English language, along with fluency in several other tongues. He didn’t just spend hours there; he spent months and years submerged in that aromatic hall. His breakfast arrived the moment he stepped through the doors, followed by an endless stream of coffee, snacks, and heated debates that lasted until closing time.
A politician without an office, his mind was brilliant, but his existence was fueled entirely by caffeine and heavy tobacco. Tragically, at the young age of forty-eight, he suffered a fatal heart attack. The attending doctors revealed that years of relentless chain-smoking and endless cups of coffee had quietly ruined his vital organs. He left behind no political legacy or written volumes, only the lingering echo of a sharp, brilliant intellect in a room that had slowly consumed him.
The Art of the Free Refill
For most others, however, the Coffee House was a lighter affair, governed by the “Coffee Economy.” A skilled Sokhan Doos rarely paid for his second or third cup. Through sheer charm, a well-timed joke, or a juicy piece of fresh gossip dangling like bait, he would seamlessly coax a newly arrived acquaintance into settling the bill.
For the price of a few annas, a Sokhan Doos didn’t just buy a beverage; he purchased an audience.
Innocent Joy in a Hurried World
Today, as life accelerates and screens replace conversation, the traditional Sokhan Doos is becoming a rare species. Yet, looking back at those golden afternoons in the Coffee House, one can’t help but feel a warm, nostalgic fondness for them.
They brought humour, warmth, and harmless drama to our lives. They reminded us that sometimes, sitting back, sipping coffee, and building castles in the sky with good friends is a joy all its own—even if those castles were made entirely of smoke.
(The author is a former civil servant from the administrative service and RK Columnist. Feedback Email: [email protected])
