What does a Wi-Fi-less world look like?

India took a while to board the coffee-chain gravy train, and I remember that it was sometime in 2000 that the first ‘organised’ coffee chain — modelled along Starbucks’ lines — made an appearance. It was called Barista, and a few months after the inaugural hoopla, a new branch cropped up near the main gate of the colony I lived in, in Delhi. There was no Wi-Fi back then, which meant there couldn’t have been endless phone gazing and WhatsApp-ing and scrolling through social media feeds.

All customers who visited the cafe had a purpose — other than being wanting to be part of a new culinary movement dawning in the country. They would meet to have conversations and romantic dates; solo ones would read a book… or write — using their imagination (there was no Google available on hand to do ‘referencing’ from). In fact, there used to be one regular customer who would hog one particular table — and several cups of coffee — every afternoon on weekdays from 2pm to 5pm; later, I found out he was studying for his civil service examinations.

The vibe inside a coffee shop used to be organic and unique, and every trip would be laden with stories because everyone was aware about the dynamics of the place: “Did you see how that guy was looking at the woman — while she appeared totally indifferent?” “I overheard the most interesting exchange from the table next to where I was seated!” “I loved how that lady thought instant coffee and espresso are the same thing.” And so on.

Later, once the “free Wi-Fi” made its foray, and then data plans became so cheap that nobody even minded being on their own dime, everyone would be perpetually on the phone in a coffee shop.

Last weekend, I was taking a walk with a friend when we noticed a new café in my friendly neighbourhood. There were bunches of people sitting around doing pre-smartphone-era-type activities: talking, reading, playing games… I realised this was a place that discourages Wi-Fi usage and encourages more biotic behaviour.

The serving lady had this wonderful smile, which went straight to her eyes, and that won over our hearts, and we agreed to take a coffee break.

When I asked if we “could grab a bite” along with the coffee, she said there were freshly baked croissants. “But you know what, I can make you a new batch, straight from the oven, it’ll take 15 minutes, do you mind waiting?”

Of course not, my friend and I responded in unison. “This is such a pretty place, yet it’s so unpretentious, all these books on your walls, we’ll check them out.”

“I’ll tell you what: why don’t you play a board game while you are waiting for your almond croissant and coffee?” she suggested.