I’ve been a night owl, whole my life. But it got worse since I shifted to Bengaluru. 12 am coffee run became a routine. This was the time when I got some alone time to myself for thinking, brainstorming, or just being idle, enjoying “Hotel California”. Such a lovely song...

My day starts from 10 am in the morning, it takes no pause throughout the day.

However, one fine night, I was on my usual coffee run. The Third Wave at Koramangala 4th Block provides takeaway till 3 am, which is around 1.5 km away from my rented apartment.

Weather was good as always, the thing that everyone loves about Bengaluru. But since it was around 2:30 am, there was no traffic as well.

While walking the streets of Koramangala, and enjoying the songs in my earphones, I noticed an old couple, sleeping peacefully on the footpath.

They occupied my mind for a couple of minutes. I went on a thinking spree.
The oldies were sleeping very peacefully, like babies. Their faces had a sense of comfort. No sign of stress. I don’t remember when was the last time I slept this peacefully.

I noticed their clothes.
It felt like they came from a normal family background. Their clothes and uncle’s watch suggested the same. But maybe something bad happened to them, probably victims of some bad situation. Otherwise, who would want to sleep on the footpath avain?

I was curious. I wanted to understand their situation. But they were sleeping and my mind was running at the speed of a drifting Porsche, thanks to cappuccino. I had a lot of things to work on after returning home.
I moved on to my own set of problems.

---

Days passed.
I kept seeing them often during my late-night walks or coffee runs.
Every time I saw them, they used to be asleep at different corners of the streets.
I wanted to do something for them. At least my heart felt to do. But I failed.
Every time I moved on to my own personal adventures after minutes of curiosity, mixed with empathy and guilt, which became normal after a couple of minutes past turning to my house lane.

Life continued. I kept on having late-night walks... Sometimes at 1 am, sometimes 2, sometimes even 4.
Sometimes, I sighted them. Sometimes, I didn’t.

I didn’t mind their absence when they were not present, to be honest. But I felt good whenever I saw them.
At least they didn’t leave each other at such a hard time. They were there for each other. It’s hard to see this with our generation, sadly.

---

One fine morning, at around 6 am - oh yeah. I didn’t sleep... It was the weekend. I wanted to take some time for myself… So I didn’t sleep.

I sighted them again. But this time, they were awake.
Possibly just woke up. Uncle was sitting near the pillared wall with the support of the boundary wall and aunty was wrapping up the cloth in which they used to sleep, trying to keep it in the old woven bag.

Uncle and I shared seconds of glance to each other when he actioned something to me, tapping his watch.
I got confused.
Then he asked again - “what’s the time?” with his grumpy voice, while tapping at his watch again.
I was in a slight confused and shocked state, but I told him the time after looking into my watch - “6 am, sir.”

He answered “ok”, with his grumpy voice.
I didn’t dare to look back, and I kept walking.

---

I was shocked because - He spoke English really well. It gave me more confidence in my assumption that they were from a well-to-do background, but something bad had happened to them.

I wanted to talk to them and understand. But this time, I didn’t dare to. I was skeptical. I moved on again to my favorite South Indian breakfast place named Sri Krishna Sagar and served myself fresh hot filter coffee and dosa. The way I love.

---

Months passed. Sometimes, I sighted them. It became normal to me.

Personally, I was going through a rough patch. My mind wasn’t stable much. I was traveling to a different city every few weeks, possibly in search of some peace and mostly escape.

I completely forgot about them. Honestly, I remembered them only when I sighted them… But every time I saw them, I had a sense of relief.

---

One random night at Koramangala, at around 2 am again, I was walking the same route, and suddenly I remembered I hadn’t seen the couple for months. Wavering thoughts working at all different tangents shivered me to the core. I was filled with guilt, I had slight hope that they were fine.
If they were fine, I should have seen them. I hadn’t seen them in months. Nowhere near Koramangala. Did they move on to some different place?

Did they go back to their home? Maybe to their normal situation?
Are they okay?

I was filled with guilt of not doing anything for them. For being ignorant.
And I was afraid if it’s too late to even care about them or think of doing something for them.

---

This is the problem with me that I have been realizing lately.

I used to be a good human, back in my childhood. I had a good mix of curiosity, empathy, will to do good, care about others, be kind, and learning capabilities.

But as I grew older - I killed my 17-year-old self, to make a space for me in this capitalist world followed by curiosity and a constant urge to create something timeless. All goals became selfish.
I kept focusing on one problem after another, solving it, and capitalizing on it. This became my core skill, no matter what the medium is. But at the cost of losing my empathy, time, and I don’t know what else. Not complaining. I wouldn't trade this life with anything else. But I also miss the younger version of me with so much of energy, just being there for everyone.

Now I have become a lot more self-centered. Only prioritizing super closed ones. Not the world. My care boundary has reduced.

This is good and bad.

But the only thing I cared about right now is if they are fine.
If they are alive.

And I just hope to see them again, and possibly do something for them the next time I see them. If I see them, ever again.

~P.