MUSINGS

SHAHNAZ ISLAM

The October Cafe

I snoozed my 7 a.m. alarm for “just 15 more minutes.” But, as always, those minutes stretched further, and by the time I dragged myself out of bed, I thought, Wow, I’m up so early. Turns out, it was already 12:40 p.m. Holy shit—it’s noon! First day of the week, and I’ve already derailed my schedule. 

I poured myself a glass of warm water and muttered, “What we think, we create.” Whispering it again, this time aloud, I told myself, Today is going to be amazing. I’m making it amazing.

Determined to turn things around, I got into the groove. Morning exercise? Check. Walking? Later. For breakfast, I whipped up a spread of my favourites: cardamom tea, omelette, toast, cashews, and raisins. I soaked in some sunshine, letting it warm my chest and shoulders while I scribbled down pieces of yesterday’s unfinished writing.

This year, I’ve sworn off making any new resolutions. No grand January declarations. Instead, I’m carrying forward the small, mindful habits I’ve been nurturing since October. Simple things, like making my bed, organizing my desk, soaking in the sun, and watching the birds—sparrows chirping, pigeons dropping in as guests, and even those uninvited, raspy crows. My balcony has become a sanctuary. Wrapped in my knitted woollen rug, rocking gently in my chair, I feel a quiet joy that has lingered since Christmas and New Year’s Eve passed.

But peace is fleeting, interrupted by the shrill ring of my phone. A reminder. Official documents due today. Shit. I promised I’d email them. So I rushed to my desk, my mind buzzing with deadlines and routines—prayers, meditation, exercise, breakfast, writing—all the things I refuse to compromise.

As a writer, there’s no retirement. And as a new business owner, paperwork is my life now. Still, I like to show up neat, poised, and smelling great—small details, but they matter to me. Even though I’d botched the timing today, I intended to treat it like any other 7 a.m. morning. Except my email failed to send. Now I had no choice but to visit the office before 5 p.m.

Mom called me for lunch. I told her I’d grab something on the way. She yelled after me, but I ignored her and rushed out. Traffic was a nightmare—no cabs in sight. Then it hit me: Why not walk? Two birds with one stone. Finish the paperwork and check off my walking regime. The idea energized me.

On the way, I grabbed a quick masala dosa—my go-to comfort food—and decided to take a detour after the office. I’d walk toward Luit Lane near Uzan Bazar Ghats before heading home. The walk left me thirsty and tired, so I started looking for a place to sit and grab some water. That’s when my eyes landed on it—The October Cafe.

“Hi… Is it open?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Come in,” a voice replied.

The cafe’s green pastel-painted walls embraced me with their soothing vibe. Old Rock On band songs played in the background—nostalgia from 16 or 18 years ago. It reminded me of a time when meeting friends was sacred, unlike today’s text-and-forget culture. I used to dress like a tomboy, hanging out with the boys, wild and carefree. Now, I’ve softened, become more poised, more measured. Back then, I was a storm; now, I feel like a butterfly, fluttering through life with intention.

“Ma’am, what would you like to have?” the waiter’s voice interrupted my reverie.

“Just coffee, please,” I said softly.

As I waited, I took in every detail. Sunflower pots and tall cacti adorned the corners, giving the space a natural, earthy warmth. A large mirror on the wall caught my eye. It reflected more than just my image—it echoed the journey I’d been on, how far I’d come. On a side wall, a framed quote hung, simple yet profound:

We make memories here.

I smirked, sipping my coffee.

Sure, it does.

(shahnazislam1320@gmail.com)