Never Bored. Thanks, Tambaram
Pongal holidays started and suddenly poof....everyone disappeared. Suitcases rolling, awkward hugs, “text me when you reach” promises, full railway-station energy. And then… silence. Hostel went from chaotic to khaali khaali.
First I was like, hmm nice, peace.
Five minutes later: okay why is it THIS quiet.
And then… idk, something changed.
I started noticing things. Like actually noticing.
Every morning, same scene. Shops outside the hostel wake up before the sun does. Especially the idli–dosa kada. One minute it’s shut, next minute...steam, steel plates, filter coffee smell doing emotional damage. People start showing up like it’s a ritual. And a lot of Air Force officers too. Calm faces, neat uniforms, zero panic. Watching them feels oddly grounding. Like, haan okay, duniya sambhal li gayi hai, you relax.
Then there’s this one uncle. SAME uncle. SAME timing. Every day. He bends down to tie his shoelaces before his walk, taking forever, zero hurry, full patience. As if he has all the time in the world. Around him, aunties walk their dogs...dogs who clearly don’t respect personal space and are already ten steps ahead, dragging them like, aaj cardio zyada hoga. Same route, same chaos, daily episode. And honestly? It’s comforting. Jaise life whispering, chill, routine chal rahi hai.
And Tambaram without fighter planes? Impossible. I lowkey live here for that sound. Being this close to the Air Force station means planes are part of the background score. Evenings they fly low..loud, dramatic entry. At night, when everything else shuts up, that sound fills the sky. Instead of fear, it brings comfort. Like someone’s on night duty. Sky security, 24/7. Morning mein again...alarm clock but desi, patriotic version.
The empty hostel isn’t lonely all the time. Sometimes it feels… freeing. Like no one’s watching, no one’s judging. I play music on full volume...old Hindi songs, random playlists, mood ke hisaab se. I sing besura with full confidence, zero talent, 100% emotion. I dance badly, dramatically, like I’m the lead in a low-budget indie film. Fairy lights on. Sitting there doing nothing. Pinterest vibes, but make it hostel-core.
Evenings are soft. Warden aunty calls out, “Va, coffee kudikka va.”
That’s it. That one line fixes everything. Coffee tastes different when someone calls you for it. Thoda sa home, thoda sa warmth, thoda sa you’re not invisible feeling.
Days move slow. Bible study in quiet corners. Journaling on the terrace....legs folded, pen moving without pressure. Writing half-sentences. Staring at the sky mid-thought. Watching colours change for no reason. Waiting for planes. Waving at dogs like they’re old friends.
Parents call, as always. Same questions...khana khaya? sab theek hai? manage kar rahi ho? Their voices travel from home and sit with me for a bit. Enough to remind me that alone doesn’t always mean lonely.
There’s no big love story happening right now. No dramatic gestures, no filmy background score. But there’s this.
Idli–dosa mornings.
The uncle and his shoelaces.
Dogs on their walks.
Coffee calls.
Fairy lights.
Besura singing.
Fighter planes cutting through the sky.
Tambaram.
The hostel.
The silence.
The sound.