In the cities I have lived in, I tend to develop a fondness for certain spots that offer me comfort, good coffee, a corner, etc. During my stay in Mysore, I became a regular at a few eateries, one being CCBC, and the other, Hideaway Coffee at Yadavagiri.

The familiarity at CCBC is such that there’s even a coffee called “Architect’s Coffee – strong, less sugar,” which is exactly what I need. I see familiar faces from the very first day I started going there. We’ve all begun to greet each other, say hello even outside CCBC. And, knowingly or unknowingly, thanks to the loud chit-chats the group often engages in, you end up overhearing stories about someone’s trip, a knee ache, or a daughter going to play basketball.

Now, I wouldn’t call this a place where I can contemplate or spend an entire day; it’s more of a place that gives you the kick to start your day, and then you figure out the rest elsewhere. That’s where Hideaway truly becomes a hideaway from the buzz and chirping, a quiet, simple insert opening towards the green on Paramahamsa Road in Mysuru.

I found this cafe through a reel on Instagram, thanks to the algorithm that monitors my coffee craving. I went at least thrice to see if it was open, but it wasn’t. One fine day, I sent an Insta DM, figured out it was finally open, and went ahead.

It’s a subtle urban insert within the largely residential fabric of Yadavagiri. The cafe doesn’t try to break away from its context; instead, it settles in gently. From the moment you enter, you sense a spatial quietness. The space is framed by large glass panels that fold away to let the outdoors in, creating a seamless visual extension into the avenue of trees outside. Inside, a smaller counter seating faces a mesh screen dotted with planters, some hanging, others spilling over ceramic pots. To add to the ambience are the rattan-backed chairs, deep-toned wooden furniture, and hanging filament bulbs, all held together by a calm, earthy palette.

Hideaway is not performative. It’s the kind of place where silence is allowed, even welcomed. And some days, that’s the most comforting form of company.

It feels even more special these days, as I get to share conversations with Versha, Ashwani, and Teja.

It’s a different rhythm from CCBC, quieter, more introspective. But over time, something familiar settles in. As Friends once put it, “It’s just a bunch of friends, sitting around, drinking coffee.” Maybe that’s all it needs to be, no big plans, no forced conversations. Just coffee, company, and the comfort of a place that doesn’t ask much of you.