Solitude and the Taste of Street Food

Hello dear friends,
I hope you all are doing well and spending a beautiful life with your loved ones. I wish you all happiness and peace.

I have always been a little different when it comes to socializing. I don’t enjoy loud crowds, chaos, or constant chatter. Instead, I find comfort in silence and peace. Some may call it a bad habit, others may see it as natural—but for me, solitude is not something negative. Often, it is in solitude where I find my inner calm and a space to connect with myself.

But life is never one-dimensional. Even for someone who loves quietness, there are moments when the outside world becomes irresistible. A few days ago, I had such an experience.

After finishing work, I was walking home through the busy streets. The day’s exhaustion was still weighing on me when suddenly I noticed a corner filled with street food stalls—fuchka, chotpoti, bhel puri, jhalmuri, egg chops, and more. The smell of spices filled the air. People were gathered around in groups—some enjoying food with friends, some with their families, and others just chatting away. The atmosphere was lively and vibrant, pulling me in despite my preference for quiet.

Street food often carries a stigma—it’s considered “unhygienic” or “unhealthy.” And honestly, in many cases, that may be true. But sometimes, cravings are stronger than restrictions. That evening, my heart longed for chotpoti. It had been quite a while since I last tasted it, and I couldn’t resist.

I chose a small but fairly decent roadside restaurant and ordered a plate of chotpoti. Within minutes, the plate arrived—warm and inviting. It was beautifully garnished with chopped onions, coriander leaves, green chilies, and shredded egg. The very first bite reminded me of how much I had missed this taste. The perfect mix of tangy, spicy, and crunchy flavors instantly lifted my mood and washed away the tiredness of the day.

The taste of chotpoti wasn’t just about satisfying hunger—it carried a certain joy, a reminder of how food connects with emotions. As I ate, I observed the surroundings. Children were laughing as they enjoyed fuchka, young people were taking photos, families were sharing plates together. In that simple setting, I could see people embracing life’s little pleasures.

Even though I was sitting alone, I did not feel lonely. I realized that solitude doesn’t always mean being isolated. Sometimes, it means enjoying the world in your own quiet way—being part of the moment without needing to be in the spotlight. I was alone, but I was silently sharing in the joy around me.

That evening’s experience taught me something new. Life isn’t only about silence, nor is it only about noise. It is a balance—a mix of calmness and little joyful moments that make it colorful. Solitude gives me peace, but moments like these remind me of the flavors of life.

So, I would say solitude is not a bad thing—it can be beautiful. But at the same time, we shouldn’t deny ourselves the small joys that life offers. For me, that one plate of chotpoti wasn’t just food—it was one of the most beautiful moments of my day.