327. The magic of being a regular

I visit A.E. Tea stall every morning for a cup of coffee, one medhu vadai, and a butter biscuit. By the time I finish the medhu vadai, the owner asks if it’s go time for coffee. Before I wipe off my oily fingers with a piece of old newspaper, I get a cup of strong coffee with half sugar. I’m a “regular” according to them. It’s a simple label that carries more weight than it seems. Restaurants, bars, cafés, lending libraries, and bookshops and many other establishments survive because of people like us. The regulars. We’re the ones who come back, day after day, without making a fuss. We’re the ones who care. Most of us even share our life’s important moments with these spaces — creating memories with old friends, having dinner dates with our loved ones, and by celebrating birthdays and anniversaries. For these establishments, we’re familiar faces in their daily scene. But to us, these places are more than just stops in our day. They’re part of our routine. Familiar corners in a changing world. Before social media filled our days with endless scrolling, these places offered real moments of serendipity — like bumping into an old classmate, an unexpected conversation with a stranger, a shared laugh with the waiter whom you see every day. It’s magical. Life has a way of becoming ordinary. But being a “regular” somewhere adds color to that ordinary. It’s about creating your own little corner in this vast world. And somehow, that makes life a little less mundane, and a little more colorful.