The Third Place

Everyone has a place that they frequent after home or work ranging from a restaurant, coffee shop, and bar among others. From socializing to providing some form of refreshment, or meal this place becomes almost like a denizen for many. Because life is at such hazard, we value these places as they await us in one place, doing one thing. Such continuity is reassuring. There is a certain charm in the notion of a place that stands still waiting for your visit, it does not move, yet is never still. After a while when walking into this place, the recognition sparks an extra layer of service, anticipating needs based on previous experiences. In California my friend Tim (rechristened as Timesh) had an Indian restaurant that we used to visit that we both loved.

In Bangalore, the cankerous noise of the walk home was interrupted by the sizzling sound of oil that simmered as potatoes were placed into it. I looked to the right where small store had an open handi beside the entrance. Overpowered by the smell I approached the store and was amazed the different assortment of chips and other fried nuts that were being sold. I took out whatever change I had and asked the storekeeper to give me whatever 5 rupees could buy. After enjoying the thinly sliced potato chips on the way home, the shop named “Hot Chips” has become my regular stop on the walk home. Run by two people, the owner inside and the cook who stands outside cooking all sorts of delights, the shop contains a dearth of snacks. After my usual wave I approach the counter with ease and address the owner as ‘uncle’ and he gives me the chips that I always purchase. Our conversation has a language barrier as they do not speak Hindi but we are able to converse nonetheless as I get my usual amount along with a free taste of what is being cooked outside. As others from my group also go to this store it becomes a third place for me, along with making me a regular of the neighborhood.