As an avid observer of people, I often find myself contemplating whether my appreciation for watching others has cultivated my love for writing, or if it is, in fact, my interest in writing that has deepened my fascination with human behavior 🙂
This morning, after hiring a cab rental to run a few errands, I asked the driver to drop me off at a coffee shop. As I stepped inside, it appeared pleasantly quiet for the early noon. I looked for a corner to make myself comfortable and to engage in some writing.
Gradually, people began to trickle in. Groups of twos and threes occupied the tables, their conversations filling the air. Business deals, real estate talks, and logo designing were just a few topics that floated around. The deals that usually make it are often signed beyond the confines of formal boardrooms. A wry smile crept my face.
Some had dropped by to refresh before a seemingly important meeting, while others had come to celebrate their significant accomplishments their faces beaming with satisfaction. Amidst this business-oriented crowd, I noticed the absence of couples.
I was scribbling notes in my diary, being the old school at heart and finding joy in putting pen to paper. Today, my happiness was twofold—a fresh pen and a new diary—they perfectly satisfied my penchant for all things new.
I walked up to the counter to place my order. “A classic hot chocolate and a classic garlic bread is good for me,” I said, deliberately choosing the familiar. This time I was satisfying my penchant for old familiar things.
Clear contrasting desires. One that tugged at my adventurous spirit and the other that craved for a sense of stability.
A group of four distinctive individuals caught my attention. Each person exuded a unique personality: two were bald-head, one had tattoos adorning his full-arms, and the other sported a bun-tied hairstyle. Each person wore their uniqueness proudly, reminding me that our differences shape the world we live in.
As my gaze wandered beyond the coffee shop’s glass windows, I saw the world whizz by. Two-wheelers, SUVs, hatchbacks, school buses, tractors zoomed past, carrying people going about their daily life. I stared at the towering skyscrapers that stood as sentinels, reflecting the collective vibe of their inhabitants.
In a span of 150 odd minutes, during which the customer gender ratio leaned heavily towards men with an average of 18:1, it was truly heartening to witness two remarkable women seamlessly handle every aspect of the café’s operations, from taking orders to billing and providing attentive service with great poise.
Every time I attempted to gather my thoughts and give some meaning to them, the noisy grinder would disrupt my flow. It dawned on me that peace is essential for writers to create.
Amidst my lost thoughts and moving pen, a gentleman sitting on the next couch rose from his seat, darting out the door every few minutes in response to his incessantly ringing phone. Although I had no right to be annoyed, I clearly was. It was distracting.
My phone beeped, notifying me of a newsletter from one of my favourite authors. I resisted the urge to open it immediately, opting to preserve the thrill for a later moment. A small simple act reclaiming the sanctity of the physical world in an era dominated by technology.
As I sat there, scribbling in my corner, I couldn’t help but be amused by the paradox. I made my judgments of the world around me in the time that flew by, turning these perceptions into stories, fully aware that they would be subject to judgment by others. I just completed the judgement cycle!
Heading to the door, there was a skip in my walk. I didn’t need peace in the conventional sense—I sought the intertwining of commotion and tranquility, the former outside and the latter within. In this delicate balance I could make stories truly come alive.
