I live in the ever growing melting pot that is Bangalore, India. Of the twenty three years I’ve been here, the city has transformed in more ways than one. For starters, its name changed. From Bangalore to Bengaluru. But I’m going to call it Bangalore. I’m more used to that name.
I still remember the pleasant, sunny summer mornings which would turn into crisp afternoons and then cool evenings. Now, of course, Bangalore has changed in more ways than one (most importantly, it’s climate). And considerably so. And I share a love-hate relationship with the way this city has changed, over the years.
It’s a beautiful juxtaposition of numerous things, this city. You’ll find people dressed to their nines, briskly walking towards their destinations; and you’ll find people in tatters, wandering around, unsure of their next meal. There are large, striking pieces of architecture both old and new; and then there are quaint little stalls and temples that have stood there since time immemorial. You’ll find fancy, high-end pubs and right next door, you’ll find tiny old stalls selling the yummiest dosas. It has an old world charm while being set so much into the future.
For me, the city is much more than it’s once perfect (now dwindling) weather. Much more than the crazy nightlife. Much more than it’s crazy traffic. It’s the yummy vada at Veena Stores. It’s the beautiful sarees at Rangachari. It’s the hustle and bustle of Avenue Road. It’s the breathtaking plays at Rangashankara. It’s the great beer at Brewsky. It’s the warm cups of chai at Chai Point. It’s the long walks in Lalbagh. It’s the fragrance of books at Gangarams. And I can go on and on about how this city manages to play with my emotions.
Bangalore is the only city I’ve lived in, all my life. And as much as I love to travel, I love coming back home to this city. It has made me the person I am today. For me, Bangalore is an emotion. Bangalore is home.