An ordinary life

open.substack.com/pub/subratratho/p/reflections-on-the-ias-moving-on

I had forgotten to pack my favourite pour over coffee bags which I normally do when I travel. So I walked over to the Kruti coffee outlet in IRC village to try the Koraput coffee. It is a comfortable, cool and tastefully done up place. But I kept my expectation low with regard to the coffee, having tasted the best from Italy to Vietnam.
As soon as I took my first tentative sip of the single shot espresso, I was bowled over by the flavour.
It was not the aggressive bitterness one often associates with a hurried espresso, nor the overly polished uniformity of commercial blends. Instead, it had a certain quiet confidence – a rounded body, gentle acidity, and a lingering, almost earthy sweetness that seemed to carry with it the memory of the red soils of Koraput. One could sense that this was not merely coffee; it was geography in a cup, shaped by altitude, rain, and patient hands.
Koraput, tucked away in the undulating highlands of Odisha, is not the first name that springs to mind in conversations about fine coffee. That honour is usually reserved for Coorg, Chikmagalur, or faraway Latin American estates. And yet, therein lies the charm. The beans here seem to have escaped the burden of reputation, allowing them to retain an authenticity that is both rare and refreshing.
Kruti, as a space, complements this discovery beautifully. There is an understated elegance to the place – clean lines, warm wood, and a certain uncluttered calm that invites conversation, or equally, contemplation. It does not try too hard, which is perhaps why it succeeds. In an age where cafés often compete in theatrics, Kruti rests its case quietly on quality.
But what elevates the experience further is the intent behind it. There is a sense that this is not merely a commercial venture but a thoughtful curation – an effort to bring a lesser-known produce into the urban consciousness without diluting its character. In doing so, it bridges two worlds: the remote tribal hills of Koraput and the discerning urban palate.
As I sat there, nursing the last few sips, I found myself reflecting on how easily we overlook what lies closer home. We travel continents in search of excellence, often unaware that it may be quietly brewing in our own backyard.
Koraput coffee, therefore, is not just about flavour – though that alone would suffice. It is also in praise of provenance, of rediscovery, and of the subtle pride one feels in encountering something authentically Indian that can stand, without apology, alongside the best in the world.
And in praise of Kruti – for recognising this, for nurturing it, and for presenting it with such quiet conviction.