I've developed an unusual post-work ritual. Instead of heading back home, I find myself drawn to the warm glow of a café. There, amidst the gentle hum of conversation and the soft clink of china, I open my laptop, delve into books, and occasionally, field a work call. It's a peculiar shift in routine that has me pondering its origins.
Perhaps it’s the infectious energy of a café, a vibrant microcosm teeming with young lives, or the simple joy of exchanging casual pleasantries with strangers. Whatever the reason, café hopping has become my unexpected hobby. It's a space where I can bask in the comforting presence of others without the overwhelming pressure of deep connection.
Cafés have often been romanticized as spaces for romantic encounters, but their appeal extends far beyond that. Whether it's a solitary figure lost in a book, a group of friends engaged in animated conversation, or a businessperson engrossed in work, cafés cater to a multitude of needs and desires. They are spaces of observation, reflection, and connection, providing a much-needed respite from the demands of daily life.
"Bheed me bhi akela" (alone in a crowd) is a common lament of the lonely heart. Though, increasingly, I'm beginning to see the crowd as a comfort. I've discovered a paradoxical solace in these bustling environments. The mere presence of people, the soft illumination, and the attentive service create a cocoon of comfort. It's a search that has led me on countless walks, exploring new corners of the city in pursuit of the perfect café sanctuary. A place where I can settle into a comfortable rhythm, transforming evenings into productive yet leisurely affairs.
Ironically, as I write this, I'm sitting in one such café, the gentle ticking of the clock a stark reminder of the approaching closing time. It's a common human experience to grapple with loneliness. Some turn to friends, others to the endless scroll of social media. The loneliest people are often found on dating apps (more on that in my next column). But for me, the café offers a unique escape from that debilitating loneliness. I can simply be there.
What is it about cafés that holds such allure? Is it the subtle sense of being observed, of existing in the peripheral vision of others? Or perhaps it's the opportunity to witness human life without being part of the main plot. As adulthood hits its peak in mid-thirties we learn to prioritise self-discovery and independence. But the process of individuation - of becoming a whole person, of becoming more of who we are eventually meant to be - is a very isolating one. The need to individuate is usually triggered by a very painful event. It is during these times public spaces become our unexpected companions. In moments of solitude or heartbreak, the gentle hum of a café can be a soothing balm.
Anyone tending to a broken heart or going through an isolating phase should use public spaces more often. It's a simple act that can yield profound results. While solitude is essential for healing, complete isolation can prolong the process. Cafés, parks, libraries—these places offer a gentle nudge towards re-engagement with the world. They provide a safe, neutral space where you can observe life unfolding without pressure to participate fully. It's in these moments of quiet observation that new perspectives can emerge and healing can begin. Remember, you're not alone in your journey, and the world outside is waiting to offer solace and support, one cup of coffee or friendly smile at a time.Seek out a café, order a cup of something warm, and simply be. You might be surprised at the company you find, even if it's just the collective energy of a room full of strangers.
Ultimately, the goal is to cultivate a sense of home within oneself, a place of such safety and sufficiency that solitude becomes a sanctuary. Yet, until we reach that internal equilibrium, as we navigate the complexities of healing and self-discovery, cafés offer a temporary refuge. They are transitional spaces where we can rest, observe, and begin to rebuild. In the gentle hum of these public places, we find a momentary escape from the echoes of the past, and the tendency to fall back into old patterns.
(The writer is a mental health and behavioural sciences columnist, conducts art therapy workshops and provides personality development sessions for young adults. She can be found @the_millennial_pilgrim on Instagram and Twitter)
