Coffee and community: finding connection in Bir
- Neha Salgare
- Mar 1
- 4 min read
Updated: 7 hours ago
A sense of community often comes disguised as a warm cup of coffee!
For three decades, I was fiercely loyal to my affordable cup of instant coffee. I never understood, and thereby avoided both ‘real coffee’ and the lifestyle of visiting cafés for an expensive cup of it. Coffee was always a solitary experience: a crutch during late-night study sessions and a pitstop for cafe wi-fi.
But, strangely, coffee and cafés became the cornerstone of my social life in Bir, the mountain-town I’ve recently moved to. It may have started with my partner’s morning rush to his favourite café—a routine I unintentionally meshed into. My curiosity was also fuelled by the group I saw huddling over a cardboard model of a café one day–a token of appreciation they’d made to symbolise all that the café meant to them, the loyalty of which baffled and intrigued me. Finally, at a fascinating coffee-making workshop, I cottoned on to why so many people are obsessed with this beverage. Soon, rushing to a café started taking on its own meaning for me, and it went beyond the coffee itself.
Pahadee Roasters - my comfort spot
For me, coffee has been synonymous with Pahadee Coffee Roasters–the place where I brewed my first pour-over and started liking artisanal coffee, which I never thought I would. What began as a modest, local roastery is now the first commercial-sized roastery in Himachal Pradesh and one of the region’s finest cafés. In a town as quaint as Bir, access to high-quality speciality coffee in such a beautiful space feels both exclusive and socially unifying—a rare experience typically reserved for larger cities.
I’ve found myself spending entire days here—working, socialising, or reading, or on some days, doing all three—and I can’t help but admire how the design of the space allows for a seamless balance between uninterrupted solitude and social interaction. Arindham, another regular, sums it up perfectly: "They sell the best coffee, and they’ve created a great environment here. It feels like home even though it isn’t. You’re out but somehow still comfortable. The peaceful colours, warm sun rays to comfort you in the toasty weather, the plants, and the team’s composed demeanour all create a sense of community. What's more? The fragrant, rich coffee aroma wafts through the cold breeze and invites you to explore this tranquil town's artisanal café culture. It feels like one big cuddly hug, instilling a sense of joy and comfort."
Bhoomi Café - a quiet corner
Beyond Pahadee, other places also encourage interactions. Aayushi, another resident of the mountains and a connoisseur of popular coffee culture, loves Bhoomi Café: “It sees a more eclectic crowd, people from many walks of life. Plus, its proximity to a monastery makes it quite calm, tranquil.” And indeed, as opposed to the other popular cafes in the town, Bhoomi’s atmosphere complements its serene, white interiors, and you’ll often find individuals and groups quietly breaking sourdough and talking here.
Recently, my friends got together at SoulKadi Canteen to simply sit and read–a quiet shared experience made possible by its offbeat location, away from the crowds.
No, crowded big-city cafés just aren’t the same
Yesterday, working at a Starbucks in my city, I noticed that the seating left little room for connection. It wasn’t unique, I realised; most of the big coffee chains in cities are ideal for working, with individual spaces and quiet atmospheres, but rarely do they foster group gathering. With various social avenues available in cities, cafes being a mere pit-stop for coffee is reasonable. But whether because of spatial limitations or the small-town cultural dynamic, every cafe here seems to promote connection over alienation.
Be it the long table at the popular June 16 Café, which is big enough to seat a big group to share a cheesecake with, the common centre table often occupied by varied strangers at Pahadee, or the two tables outside Silver Linings Café that welcome sharing. It’s not uncommon to see 5-6 people squeezing into a table of four, or rearranging the chairs to join in for breakfast, people leaving their table to go say hi to someone at another. It’s your college caféteria without the social hierarchy or the looming social awkwardness.
And if the café can’t accommodate you for long hours, there’s still an affinity here that’s rarely found in the cities. My friend Japleen, who’s lived in Bir for years, said, “See, I go to cafes for the people. I love their coffee, but if my friends weren’t around, I would just have coffee at home.” She mentioned she’s currently not dropping by her favourite Cherry Coffee Bar as much because her friends, Suraj and Jyotsna, the owners, aren’t in town right now. While I barely know any cafe owners in the cities, being acquainted with them here is quite common.
Coffee culture - a phenomenon
This phenomenon of café-culture was best explained by my partner during a squabble over our absurd monthly budget for cafes. “We need a budget for cafés. It’s my third place,” he said. I looked at him quizzically. “I have a home where I feel comfortable, then I have my sites where I work. I need a third place to just wind down, to socialise, to come across new ideas.” He also went on to explain that cities have many third places, like joggers' parks, gardens, theatres, and malls, and they’re much needed for a balanced life. For our small mountain town, cafés are a big part of this balance.
Bir's essence of community
Bir is replete with people who’ve moved here from across the country and the world at large. But it’s not like moving for college or work, where you’re constantly thrown into groups. With a lack of built-in social structures and starting points as diverse as these, it’s hard for people to find common ground.
For many of us, a cup of coffee, or a café–a third place- has become that common ground. Quickly dropping by and saying hello to a familiar face at another table, at another café and stacking up more words as weeks elapsed is how our social circles grow in Bir. For me, these became the bridge, connecting me to a community much sooner than I ever have in the cities, turning a town of strangers into a place I can now call home.
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