3RD SEM (2023-2025)
Under the table, my feet tapped in sync, the rhythm almost a sign language reminder of the pistachio latte I had ordered half an hour ago.
“Miss, do you want your coffee warmed up?” The waiter’s voice cut through my daze.
“It’s alright,” I nod my head.
“Is it really alright?” he pressed, and suddenly, I felt the weight of uncertainty creeping in. If I hesitated, I’d spiral back into second-guessing everything, including myself.
I nodded, stalling for a few precious seconds. “Actually, yeah. Let’s warm it up,” I said, forcing a small smile.
Sometimes, making a decision is the first step to taking control- starting with coffee, I suppose.
The coffee was warm now, and so was my mood. It nudged me to make a call to an old college friend. “Hey? It’s my birthday. Do you still remember me?” I asked, half-laughing, half-nervous. As the call went silent for a moment, I let myself drift to the shores of precious memories. Somehow, like an old owl, I got lost in memories that now offer me a strange sense of hope.
Hours later, I decided to celebrate properly and ordered a cake. Spotting the same waiter from earlier, I asked him to snap a few pictures during the cutting of cake. Once the photos were posted as my WhatsApp DP; I paid the bill and headed straight to Fabindia. That store has been my happy place ever since I moved to this apartment. Without compromising on the price, I bought a silk white shawl as a birthday gift to myself. It wasn’t cheap, but the material was exquisite. Strangely, it wrapped me in a kind of warmth I hadn’t felt in years.
Walking back home, I chose to take the long way. My apartment wasn’t far, but I wanted to steal a few extra moments with myself- my real self. That word “self” is so intriguing. Carl Rogers, the humanist psychologist, once said the self-concept has three parts: “self-image,” “self-esteem,” and “ideal self.” Somehow, all those layers of self-reflection have inspired me to explore who I was and who I’ve become.
Before heading back, I stopped at Dosa Coffee, my favourite corner spot. It’s been my little escape on lazy mornings when I skip breakfast at home. Sitting there, enjoying the last meal of my birthday, I turned 43. As I blew out the metaphorical candles of my past self-doubts, I smiled. Maybe this year will be different. After all, the bill was paid, and I was free to move forward.