Cubbon Reads

Cubbon Reads A quiet reading community. We meet every Saturday, 9am-2pm, in Cubbon Park to silently read together.

“Do you remember the first time you came to Cubbon Park to read?” someone asked me once.And just like that, I started to...
17/05/2026

“Do you remember the first time you came to Cubbon Park to read?” someone asked me once.
And just like that, I started to reminisce the day that was nearly two years ago.

I was still new to the city then, uncertain, vulnerable, trying to find my place in somewhere that felt completely alien to me. But with that uncertainty also came a newfound sense of freedom and Bangalore presented itself as a blank canvas waiting to be explored.

The first time I went to Cubbon Park, I went alone, with a book and a picnic mat to give me company. It was a warm spring morning, with the yellow bells in full bloom. Children ran in every direction, playing games whose rules I no longer remember. People strolled along the pathways while their golden retrievers trotted happily beside them. It filled me with immense joy to watch all that merriment and commotion breathe life into a single space.

That day, for the first time in a long while, I found the peace to truly sit down and read. Yet in between the pages, I would find myself distracted by the stillness.
I'd grown so used to the daily mayhem of everyday life that I'd forgotten what calmness sounded like.

Since then, whenever I want to take a step back from my chaotic routine, I find myself returning to Cubbon Park, searching for perspective. I watch people move through life at their own pace, and somehow my own worries begin to feel like a speck in the dust. I see friends laughing together on the grass, someone sitting alone beneath the lush canopy with a quiet smile, a vendor pouring steaming cups of tea, a little girl teaching her grandmother how to blow bubbles. In those moments, I’m reminded that it’s okay to slow down sometimes.

So much has changed since then. Neighbourhoods have grown, friends have left for different cities, a new metro line has opened and my favourite coffee shop has shut down. Yet it comforts me to know that whenever life becomes difficult, as it sometimes does, I will always have this little sanctuary waiting for me every Saturday, offering solace among the trees. All I need to do is pick up a book, grab a mat and answer the calling.

Over the years, it has become harder for me to take time out of my life to read. I remember many years back how I would ...
03/05/2026

Over the years, it has become harder for me to take time out of my life to read. I remember many years back how I would skip class just to finish the last few chapters of a gripping novel. Breakfast and lunch were just words to me. I was young and had barely any money or responsibilities. All I had was time. And freedom. But somewhere along the way, that instinctive craving I once had for books has all but faded into a dull sense of practicality.

Last night was no different. I lay on my bed with a book in hand and a promise to read. I could hear the soft whisper of rain tapping against the broad Ayurjack leaves in my front yard. The air had cooled just enough for me to cozy up in my blanket without it feeling suffocating. Ideal circumstances. I turned on the warm yellow lights and read for about ten minutes. Completely immersed. Nothing could stop me. I felt free again. For ten minutes.

My anxieties, briefly put on hold, returned - almost offended that I had achieved silence. I should be reading something productive. I have an exam coming up. I need to upskill. Earn more. Fix my sleep. Move out. Make something of my life. The same old chorus. I couldn't read anymore.

Today though, in Cubbon Park, I faced none of those apprehensions. I sat under a sprawling mahogany on a cloud-white and blue mat with Crime and Punishment in hand. The remnants of last week's rains were still visible. Old leaves had fallen and greener ones took charge of the canopy. The ground held a tinge of wetness. Towards the south-east edge of the park, you'd spot half of tree 3281 and 3502, wind-swept and broken on the pavement. Larger groups sat under the shade of the old tree, while smaller groups and lone readers preferred the quietness farther away.

As for me, today in Cubbon Park, I was able to read for an hour straight without interruption. I see everyone around me read, and I get this comforting feeling that my problems aren't mine alone. That we are all going through it, and yet we still show up.

If you've been struggling to read for a while, try doing it here, under the shade of our park, amongst others doing the same. It might help you. I know it helped me.

See you next week?

“Why Cubbon Park?”Someone asked me, when I mentioned that a bunch of us meet there just to read together, as strangers, ...
26/04/2026

“Why Cubbon Park?”
Someone asked me, when I mentioned that a bunch of us meet there just to read together, as strangers, sitting with books, journals, newspapers, and simply reclaiming a space for readers.

And it’s a fair question. In a beautiful city like Bangalore, you could read anywhere, exquisite cafes, bookstores, or your home, why here? Maybe the answer begins with the park itself.

What we now know as Cubbon Park wasn’t always this open, lived-in space. Laid out in 1870 during the British era, it started off as a more exclusive, colonial garden, eventually named after Sir Mark Cubbon, the then Commissioner of Mysore.

Over time, as the city evolved, so did the park. It was eventually renamed Sri Chamarajendra Park, but for Bangaloreans, it never stopped being Cubbon Park. What once symbolized colonial order slowly became something else entirely: a shared, living space that belongs to everyone.

It's a poetic reclamation of a space that always belonged to us. Today, in a city where we’re constantly trying to keep up, Cubbon Park feels like a return to stillness, to community, to something simple and human, it's comfort wrapped neatly between trees, sunlight, flowers, people, and a shared history. It’s always been at the center of Bangalore’s identity, quietly holding it's authentic space while everything else changes.

So why Cubbon Park?

I could say it’s the 6,000+ trees from across the world, turning it into a mini forest in the middle of chaos. I could say it’s the history, or the silence, or the way time slows down the moment you step in.

Maybe it’s in the odd number of murder mysteries this weekend, a newspaper spread across the mat, a journal taking down notes from the book, or the ever returning self-help readers striving to be their better selves everyday, or—the warmth, the calm, the collective pause we all come seeking.

I can just give you words. But that would not be enough. So if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to read in the middle of a forest that grew alongside a city, come find your space at Cubbon Park! 🌿📖

📷: .opened
🖋️:

Did you ever notice that the stairs at the Cubbon Park Metro narrate a story, one sentence at a time, one staircase at a...
20/04/2026

Did you ever notice that the stairs at the Cubbon Park Metro narrate a story, one sentence at a time, one staircase at a time? Each stair is one sentence and as you reach the top, the story completes. It is rather easy to miss if you take the escalator, rush up the stairs, or simply aren’t paying attention, but if you begin reading a little before the staircase and move unhurriedly, you would most likely be 10 minutes late but 10x happier! It is as if Cubbon Park was beckoning all of us to read even before we reach Cubbon Reads.

If staircase wasn't enough, the park itself serves as the city's greatest reminder to read. At the heart of the park, it cradles the ravishing red building of State Central Library. It celebrates both reading and silence, the ethos of Cubbon Reads. And if you think, there aren't more reading reminders, try spending an afternoon in the park until hunger gnaws at your belly. Surrounding the park are some of Bangalore's most famous eateries, but along with them, there are also some of Bangalore's beloved bookstores to feed your soul. The majestic collection at Blossoms that feels like a labyrinth, the rare book collection at Bookwork, the basement treasure of Goobe's, the antique Select Book Shop or the historic Higginbothams.

The park is orbited by all things reading. From the metro to its premises to its surroundings. And to those oblivious to the magic surrounding Cubbon, the park drops poems in the form of flowers—the purple tabebuis or the yellow amaltas, and if you're lucky, also Bangalore's most beautiful gift, its mild afternoon drizzle.

You can't escape words at Cubbon. It is only apt that the world's largest silent gathering of readers takes place in Cubbon Park. And that the movement started from here—there couldn't have been a better place! Cubbon Reads is a tribute by citizens to the park's enduring legacy of holding literature & poetry in and around itself.

Come, celebrate words with us every Saturday. With books or newspapers, love letters or research papers, even shampoo bottles if you wish. Language no bar. As long as there are words, there isn't a better place to read.

📝
📷 ._

A Bangalorean year does not measure itself in 365 days. It gathers, loosens, and gathers again through moments of rise a...
12/04/2026

A Bangalorean year does not measure itself in 365 days. It gathers, loosens, and gathers again through moments of rise and lull, through departures that stretch and returns that feel inevitable, always circling back to the city’s familiar itineraries, the ones that anchor and restore. At the heart of it all lies Cubbon Park, where Cubbon Reads holds space like a quiet promise, waiting to receive you once more.

This is my third such year of learning how Bangalore breathes through its heat. The sun insists, lingers across long afternoons, yet the winds arrive faithfully, carrying a kind of reassurance. I wait for the rain the way one leans into hope, not with urgency, but with trust that it will return, sooner rather than later.

There is a stirring now, a hum that gathers and renews itself, most tenderly felt in Cubbon. The city begins to clothe itself in pink and yellow and lavender, letting blossoms knit a canopy that feels both fleeting and familiar. Beneath it, Cubbon Reads unfolds again, not as an event, but as a return. People settle, reopen pages once left mid-thought, lean into stories that waited patiently. Seasons drift, but this ritual finds its way back, again and again.

And much-so perenially, the books, the readers, their mats & coffee mugs arrived, and with them, small acts of becoming. Recursion by Blake Crouch bends time into loops, The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris unsettles, Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown unravels, Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom softens, Pax Indica by Shashi Tharoor reflects, Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky imagines, and, The Diary of a CEO by Steven Bartlett questions.

And somewhere between the restless winds and the rain that almost arrives, hope begins to return in quiet cycles. It lingers, recedes, and finds its way back, much like seasons shifting, stories unfolding, and footsteps retracing familiar paths. Cubbon Reads gathers itself again in that same spirit, and in its return, reminds us that some things do not simply end, they wait patiently to be rediscovered.

📷: .ms.kumar ._
✍️: ._

Imagine if Cubbon Reads wasn't free to attend. A poorly written AI tagline would probably promote it like so: "Join us f...
07/04/2026

Imagine if Cubbon Reads wasn't free to attend.

A poorly written AI tagline would probably promote it like so: "Join us for a serene morning where stories unfold under the shade of beautiful trees. Pay 499 and book your spot". Yikes.

This edition of Cubbon Reads was rife with interesting contradictions and I will tell you all about them.

Someone was reading a Kannada title Idanna Odbedi which translates to 'Don't Read This'. Amidst book piracy crackdowns that are being undertaken in the country by publishing houses, a reader confidently showed up with a PDF print of Ikigai. Smiles erupted on our faces as we examined the blue, neatly spiral bound book.

The sad sight of phones in young hands was replaced by a happy feeling as we saw three girls read books of their interest. Their guardian affirmed the importance of inculcating reading habits in children early-on. Two readers claimed their side in the movie vs book debate and chose to read Project Hail Mary, with one having read it long before the movie had come out.

We shifted from foot to foot and glanced at our clocks, eagerly waiting for readers to stack books, while our readers continued to read for a little longer, the weather being a relief thanks to the clouds that kept making their arrival known.

Readers who frequent Cubbon Reads now greet us with a tiny knowing smile, well-versed with the flow of the interaction that awaits them. As public spaces start shrinking and people put community behind a paywall, it becomes even more important to reclaim what belongs to us.

The next time you contemplate to 'book your spot', perhaps you can come to Cubbon Park, spot us with our books and sit down to read. Trust me, you won't feel alone. See you next Saturday?

📷 + ✍🏽 .opened

Literature has a way of wringing itself into us, like tapeworms in the bellies of filthy pigs, unsettling and persistent...
29/03/2026

Literature has a way of wringing itself into us, like tapeworms in the bellies of filthy pigs, unsettling and persistent. Like cold, bitter medicine in the mouths of children, it heals even as it discomforts. It sits in our minds, feeding quietly, and in return plants its eggs, ideas that grow, shift, and take on lives of their own.

You are what you eat, and in our readers here at Cubbon, there exist infinite capacities, stretching from Sally Rooney to Markus Zusak. Books, at their core, are bundles of leaves, swept together like collective memory, with names blurred and emotions distilled. They are hands against frosted glass, the presence of something deeply human, yet distant enough to make us comfortable with the rawness of our own thoughts.

Tender is the flesh, but the heart and mind remain Gemini twins, feeling and knowing, instinct and reflection. The day at Cubbon felt like an awakening, purple flowers scattered across the ground, yellow blooming above, the past shedding itself like old snake skin, renewal in motion, joy rising close enough to touch.

I urge you, dear readers, let these ideas transform you. Let them consume you whole. Let the smallest germ of thought build its own being within you. Be changed. Be remade. And never be the same again.

When we begin the caption, we usually start with the weather. Like how Bangalore's summer was calmed by the advent of ra...
24/03/2026

When we begin the caption, we usually start with the weather. Like how Bangalore's summer was calmed by the advent of rain & how the skies were overcast again. How Bangalore's summer barely lasts for three weeks and then rain follows like a reward in instalments for surviving the dry summer.

We then move to the attendance. How last week, the park was brimming with readers, despite it being a long weekend thanks to Ugadi, Navratri & Eid. We then speak of notable books or other props our readers show up with. The last week, we spotted a pretty hardbound of The Bridges of Madison County, a Pokémon bookmark & many carrying umbrellas—a homage to the unpredictable Bangalore showers. There was also a reader with the iconic iPod classic, transporting us back to the early 2000s.

We speak of our one-on-one interactions while clicking the photographs. How one of our curators saw three people reading last to last Saturday and assumed they were for Cubbon Reads, but they had no clue about us. They were introduced to CR, and this week, they joined us as readers. Yay!

We started Cubbon Reads with the intent of reclaiming public space with books and mats, hoping watching people read in public will inspire others to do the same. One of our founding curators remember feeling the same during their stay in Paris. In Paris Metro and parks, he would always see one in three people reading, and it inspired him to carry a book with him and read at all times.

A lot of people complain why should one read outdoors? If nature and birdsong are not enough reasons, do it to shape the city's culture. To turn any activity into a city's habit, it is a must to do it regularly in public so it normalises it for everyone. What started with two people silently reading together every Saturday in a park has turned into a global movement quite simply because it was done in public, introducing so many to the wonderful world of words minus discussion.

If you're new to reading & the mandatory discussion and dissection of book clubs intimidate you, Cubbon Reads extends a hand to you. We are there to hold your shoulders—from a distance—as you open doors to the magic of books. See you next Saturday?
If you're new to reading & the mandatory discussion and dissection of book clubs intimidate you, Cubbon Reads extends a hand to you. We are there to hold your shoulders—from a distance—as you open doors to the magic of books. See you?

Spring feels like summer here, doesn't it? While Bangalore's great lakes be it Ulsoor or Hebbal are artificially dried u...
15/03/2026

Spring feels like summer here, doesn't it? While Bangalore's great lakes be it Ulsoor or Hebbal are artificially dried up for desilting and rejuvenation this summer, Cubbon has stepped up to become one of the biggest heat sinks of the city.

We go there as much for the trees as for the books. Today, their stretched hands felt as if they are blessing us—purple flowers falling and leaves drifting down. It felt I was cast in a movie scene that ended with me giving trees a hug.

I had never considered carrying a water bottle as part of my checklist before, but today I did. I was not alone, as the bottles almost outnumbered the books. Whoever called water the “elixir of life” must have written it during Indian summer.

Let me tell you a story from today. A friend of mine had been interested in attending Cubbon Reads but couldn’t show up for a long time. Today when I asked him, “Why don’t you join me?” he readily accepted and joined me.

He came with Velpari Volume 1. He said the book was very good, but it didn't have a translation, and he hadn't met anyone who had read it. Only until the boom stacking.

While we were talking, we noticed another Velpari book stacked there. We were like, “What?!” It was Volume 2. So he found someone to talk about the book, that too at the very first Cubbon Reads he attended. The sheer chance something like this could happen was so rare, yet at Cubbon Reads, sometimes, magic happens.

Then I looked around at the other people who had shown up. Maybe some of them had planned to come before, maybe some came suddenly, or maybe they were just passing by Cubbon Park and decided to join the reading.

I started thinking: how many of them might have found a similar reader friend today? A person to talk about something they have been admiring personally for so long.

Just like the strings of an instrument that can create millions of sounds, our bookish lives too become a song when we get someone to share words with. Tell us such stories of serendipities at the stack or at the park in the comments if you've one. Come for the magic the next Saturday, maybe? See you.

✍🏽
📷 .ms.kumar

I can feel the summer, the days getting longer. It’s around 6pm and still the sun is there, making a slow move. I could ...
07/03/2026

I can feel the summer, the days getting longer. It’s around 6pm and still the sun is there, making a slow move. I could mention Frank Ocean’s lyric: “On comes the evening, gold seeking ends. Peace in my hand’s worth twice than a friend.”
I’m writing this after a little afternoon nap, watching the gold sinking from my room window and thinking about the things that happened today, my second day as a curator in Cubbon Reads.
After several visits as a reader, I’m here now as a curator. More yet to read, feel, and experience. The previous curators who came by just passed their bright charm. It felt like they did everything out of love and interest. And it reminded me, we are not visitors or participants here. We are the community.

Maybe it’s something like the stardust of the universe colliding and evolving to create humans, who are just the universe experiencing itself. Cubbon Reads feels a little like that too, people coming together and creating the friction that slowly grows and evolves. And maybe we should also be aware that we ourselves are the community.
Today children were running freely in the sunlight, their clothes bright and playful like little moving palettes of color. When I looked at myself, I felt like a quieter palette. Somewhere along the way we change.

Young people are always searching, trying to figure everything out. But then something interesting happened. I noticed a grown man sitting nearby, reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens. And I thought , isn’t that beautiful?

Maybe this is human nature. Teenagers want to become adults. Adults sometimes wish they could be teenagers again. And elders perhaps wish they could return to the strength of adulthood. This quiet desire to move backward through time somehow makes humanity both fascinating and comforting to me.
And summer added some violet flower topping over the dry leaves. My shoes were like, “Okay, we got some crunchy leaves and some flower topping. Cool, let’s roll.”
Maybe life is a bit like that too, always something new or surprising along the way. I guess I’ll just keep walking with it.

🖋️

I can feel the summer, the days getting longer. It’s around 6pm and still the sun is there, making a slow move. I could ...
07/03/2026

I can feel the summer, the days getting longer. It’s around 6pm and still the sun is there, making a slow move. I could mention Frank Ocean’s lyric: “On comes the evening, gold seeking ends. Peace in my hand’s worth twice than a friend.”
I’m writing this after a little afternoon nap, watching the gold sinking from my room window and thinking about the things that happened today, my second day as a curator in Cubbon Reads.
After several visits as a reader, I’m here now as a curator. More yet to read, feel, and experience. The previous curators who came by just passed their bright charm. It felt like they did everything out of love and interest. And it reminded me, we are not visitors or participants here. We are the community.

Maybe it’s something like the stardust of the universe colliding and evolving to create humans, who are just the universe experiencing itself. Cubbon Reads feels a little like that too, people coming together and creating the friction that slowly grows and evolves. And maybe we should also be aware that we ourselves are the community.
Today children were running freely in the sunlight, their clothes bright and playful like little moving palettes of color. When I looked at myself, I felt like a quieter palette. Somewhere along the way we change.

Young people are always searching, trying to figure everything out. But then something interesting happened. I noticed a grown man sitting nearby, reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens. And I thought , isn’t that beautiful?

Maybe this is human nature. Teenagers want to become adults. Adults sometimes wish they could be teenagers again. And elders perhaps wish they could return to the strength of adulthood. This quiet desire to move backward through time somehow makes humanity both fascinating and comforting to me.
And summer added some violet flower topping over the dry leaves. My shoes were like, “Okay, we got some crunchy leaves and some flower topping. Cool, let’s roll.”
Maybe life is a bit like that too, always something new or surprising along the way. I guess I’ll just keep walking with it.

✍🏻

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