4 a.m. is an interesting time. Still dark enough for the crickets and owls, yet the day is just beyond the horizon. When most are asleep and the outside world feels suspended in slow motion, I feel most at peace. With the moon glowing through the window, you’ll find me standing at the stove making chai, with the soft bubbling of the traditional milk tea being the only prominent sound for what feels like miles.

On the numerous nights I can’t fall asleep, I make myself chai. The crushing of spices, stirring, simmering till it’s just the right color — all of it eases my heart. The steps have become muscle memory: heat the milk and water, add the tea leaves, mix in the spices, simmer and wait. The waiting is the best part. The constant need to make sure it doesn’t boil over occupies my mind enough to not zone out, yet it isn’t an overbearing task that keeps me away from my inner thoughts. It’s just right.

There’s a stillness to this time as if the world is holding its breath. Sitting there with only my thoughts, I find myself admiring how quiet it is. It’s lonely, but it’s the kind of loneliness where your mind is the only companion you really need, a solitude for weary people whose lives move too fast and whose heads are too loud. If I could, I would live in this moment forever.

With this solitude comes a liberating freedom from judgment. I would never think of putting black pepper in my chai while my family could see, but at 4 a.m., I learned that it’s delicious. Even if it didn’t end up tasting good, I enjoy the power to simply do what I want with my chai. Were I to experiment with new spices during the day, my mother would appear behind me and stop me, scolding, “the way we make it is fine how it is.” 4 a.m. is the only place where I can try new things without feeling the scorn of others.

This summer, I tried one more new thing. Instead of making chai like I normally would, I decided to go outside into the night instead. Being outside at 4 a.m. was oddly surreal, the world seemed frozen in a familiar way. It felt like something was missing, like the world, under the moon and streetlights, was brand new. Despite this uneasiness, it was beautiful. The air felt unused and it was the first time I had ever seen empty streets. Even though everything looked exactly the same, it felt like a different world.

I stood in the middle of an empty intersection, fully immersed in the uncanny feeling. Strangely enough, this new experience felt oddly similar to that of making chai. 

Then I understood. I realized exactly what was missing. There was no one around to tell me what to do, no one to judge me, no one I owed any responsibility to. I had the freedom to do what I wanted, whether that be with my chai or with my life. Without the scrutiny of others, I am free to be who I want. It made me realize that I had begun to fear the judgment of others and let that subconsciously run my life. 

This experience was the wake-up call I needed to start re-evaluating how I viewed the expectations that surround everyday life, and how I had gradually grown to feel burdened by them. I began thinking of ways to shift my mindset and stop viewing the world through the lens of judgment. Though I have yet to find a solution, the awareness of this mentality has helped me greatly. While I still enjoy my 4 a.m. chai, I’m now learning to embrace that freedom without being up at 4 a.m.