Bangalore, Bengaluru*, Namma Ooru*
About My Home
I want to live in an old house that I can call home, an old place where I can make new memories, where every little crack in the wall, every little scribble on the wall tells a story, tells about the little kid who marked his height, the girl who grew over her Friends tv show posters, only to put up posters of Game Of Thrones.
I want to live in a house where the coldness of the marble floor gives you warmth, a home where the light is just right. A place you can recharge mentally.
A house where you can sit on the veranda and drink chai when it rains.
I want an old house in the oldest part of Bengaluru, with blackened light switches because of all the sweaty palms and wet hands that touched it without any scars or shock.
A house where all the lights are turned off at night but not the Pooja room’s light because God needs light to watch us.
In the end, I’m in love with Bangalore. Nakkan adu bengaluru.
With its sunsets, the people, the concrete jungle filled with bits of greenery, to make it seem like there is a good proportion of both, but there isn’t, and also nim maternal scoldings by the adorable youth, and the houses are about to be torn by gentrification even though they stood through the test of time. I feel like I’m forgetting something.
Oh yeah, the traffic and the potholes trying to compete with the number of stars.
I like going to old cafes and old dosa canteens. It tells me more about where I live than anything else. It’s nice to look at old couples and old uncle homies drinking coffee together, reminiscing about their old days. In some ways, I’ve become that old uncle.
It makes me want to become a grandfather and eat dosas in the morning and take a long stroll with my old friends while visiting all the temples I see.
I should start going clubbing instead of MTR and Vidyarthi Bhavan.
But I don’t know.
I prefer the Naguva Nayana aesthetic to the Teriyanda aesthetic — Alok Hegde, 2023
I wonder if I feel this way, or if it’s Bengaluru making me feel this way.
Either way, I love you, Namma Ooru, but the traffic, it’s a love-hate relationship.
Recently, I drove my Scooty Pep, my sister’s purple-colored dented Scooty Pep to Bellandur from RR Nagar. If you are from Bengaluru, you know that’s a death threat to your scooter.
Somehow, the scooter never stopped.
My scooter got that David Goggins mindset for real.
It made me realize that if you look up, you see Instagrammable sunsets and skies, but before you look ahead it’s too late to fall down due to a pothole bigger than that guy’s nostril from college.
Whatever it is, Bengaluru makes you feel things.
Do you feel the same?
Thank you and have a nice day.
Ram ram saareyana, Aaj Mera 56th hard day.
