Time and Tide wait for some.
There are days when this city feels like a raging sea and I’m almost drowning. The honking, the crowds, the lists that just never end, waiting to be ticked off one after another. And then today happened – the day I slipped into a space in Indiranagar where I felt the entire world pause and breathe with me.
It’s not just a café, it felt more like a place built with care and patience and designed to make the rush wait at the door. The moment I walked in, the air changed—softer, warmer, smelling of coffee and faintly of green leaves being kissed by the rain drops. The street noises stayed outside, as though even chaos knew it wasn’t allowed to walk in here.
a place built with care and patience and designed to make the rush wait at the door.
I found for myself, a table near the window, where I watched light flood in like honey, like the kind that flows the slowest making time wait. The golden flow spread across the wooden tables that looked like sages with experience of listening to a million stories – happy, sad, every kind. These were like silent listeners that patiently waited for the next story to be told and embraced.
… wooden tables that looked like sages with experience of listening to a million stories – happy, sad, every kind.
When my food was served, it felt like kindness. It was alive in color – greens, purples and a drizzle of something golden. I thought, this is what love looks like when it comes out on a dish to eat.
my food was served, it felt like kindness.
Somewhere around me somebody laughed. On another table, a book was open and a young man stared at it as if it was a relic in a museum. He flipped the first page after an hour. This space brought me close to people, and made me believe that we are all just looking for corners in which we can breathe without the performance.
He flipped the first page after an hour.
After my meal, I wandered into the little bookstore – silent shelves, books slouching against each other like friends waiting for a call to the dance. My hand ran along their spines until one of them stopped me. I sat with it, coffee in one hand, pages in the other, and all of a sudden the world outside seemed very far away.
Home – that is what it felt like. Not the home of mortar and brick but a home I keep inside me, the kind that I forget how to return to. Copper + Cloves handed it back to me, gently.
Home – that is what it felt like.
Finally I stepped outside, the sun even lower and the feeling of evening in air. The street was noisy again but I was not. Inside my chest I carried a peace with me, a softness, as though the cafe had placed a gentle palm against my heart and said, “Go softly. The world will wait.”
That’s what this place is, I think. A reminder that home can be found-even here, even far from where I started – where people made room for warmth, for slowness, for life.
And I’ll go back there. Not because I’m hungry, but because I want to experience again, what it is like to feel belonged and embraced.
… where people made room for warmth, for slowness, for life.
