By Shilpa Suresh

Bangalore mornings are extremely beautiful. With the flocks of pigeons chirping around in groups. The one lone wanderer lost in its thoughts, rushing to join the team. The misty air falling down as dew drops. Out there, people have already started their day with morning walks and prayers and yoga’s. The melodious hymns and the ringing bells and those enthusiastic laughter club aunties and uncles. The mild but wild aura of jasmine flowers coming out of those baskets weaved of love, sweat and a living. 

By Janet Evans Joshi

Honk-honk, moo-moo, bow-wow, cling-clang, chatter-chatter. No not the words in the textbook of a six year old, but the routine noises on the road, one get to hear, stuck in the traffic.

By Janet Evans Joshi

Sea breeze blowing across your face, feet sliding in the sand, chaos and laughter everywhere. The chirping voices of little boys and girls running as ‘Kadalamma’ comes to catch them.

By Aarushi Padhi

26th of June 2019 is always going to count as an enjoyable day for me in Bangalore. I encountered a series of many firsts that day – I appeared for the NET exam for the first time, had my first metro ride, and rode a hoverboard for the first time.
It seemed like the NET exam was only an excuse for an outing for all the people in my class who appeared for it. I caught myself discussing with them where we were going to go that day, what all areas to explore, and what food to eat. The venue for the exam was in Jalahalli, and one of my classmates volunteered to be our guide for the day since she had been staying in that area previously and frequently used to commute by metro. All of us decided to meet at the Yelachenahalli metro station at 6.45 AM sharp, so that we would be able to catch the 7 AM metro and leave out some time to explore around the metro station before appearing for the exam. Everything proceeded as scheduled. Since it was early morning, almost all of us got seats in the metro. The ride was real smooth and automated. I always used to think of metros as trains, but after experiencing it for real, realised that the both can hardly be compared. There is no greater contrast than between that of metro and actual railways. To us, the metro seemed like the appropriate place for last minute preparations and discussions for the exam. We gradually became loud enough to turn heads. A gentleman rebuked us in Kannada, which was later translated for our benefit by one of our Kannada speaking friends. The same gentleman, though, very politely asked which college we belonged to while we were getting out of the metro.
Just outside the metro we saw a shop from where the smell of fresh tea was wafting out, and but of course entered. That day’s tea with idli and podi will remain one of the best breakfasts I have ever had. After the exam, we returned back to the shop, and this time chose items like chaat and donuts. While returning, we decided on dropping by Mantri Square. I specifically wanted to visit it as it was situated in one of the metro stations itself. It was quite impressive, and we easily spent at least three hours there. That was where I tried a hoverboard for the first time. The return journey was much more crowded. The three hours spent in the exam hall, the main purpose of the outing, was relegated an unimportant position, and by the end of the day all we remembered was food and photos and experiences.

By Aarushi Padhi

This is something I want to share because I want to relive some good, positive childhood memories. Cotton candies used to be sold by street hawkers back at my native place, Rourkela. 4 small ones for a rupee and one large one for five. Well, the big ones always used to be out of budget back then, so I used to ask my grandpa for a rupee every time I heard a hawker pass by, which was rare. It had crossed my mind several times as to why we used to call it Bombay Laddu back home, maybe the kids there still do. “Do laddus in Bombay look like this?” I used to wonder back then. But then I grew up and I realized that laddus in Bombay are laddus after all. Then what was the logic behind the name given to this absolute delicacy? So I popped this question to my mum because that is what I do – run to mum when I have illogical questions. And as usual, she does not disappoint. She explained it so beautifully, this post won’t do justice to it at all. She said and I quote, “You know how we call Bombay “mayanagri”? Jo jaye wo pachtaye because you got to struggle to establish yourself there, and jo na jaye wo bhi pachtaye because obviously Bombay na dekha toh kya dekha? Similarly when we see cotton candies, we got to have them, because they seem pink and fluffy and big. We regret if we cannot have it. But once we do, we know what happens to it when we put it into our mouths, right? So what was all the fuss about anyway?” So simple, but so enlightening! Google could not do what my mum did. I do not know whether the explanation given by her is legitimate or she just spun it up on the spot, and I kind of do not care. No google deginition is going to convince me otherwise. It felt like a trip down memory lane. It brought back snippets of an old, faded, blurry, happy childhood.

By Megha Mariam Sajan

When life got tough, a walk always helped. In a place like Bangalore, where the nights are more beautiful than the days, where the nights lit up the roads in yellow and colours, a walk through the night without any purpose, a walk just to see around is the best experience one can have.

By Devika K

So what do you do when all the dogs in your area start barking at 3:07 a.m. and you are awake and scared and don’t want to wake up your sleepy roommate. You gather all the courage and your flashlight and venture out. So what do you do next when you realize that the dogs are barking at something in front of a tree or what seems like a tree. You run with all your might and hide under the blankets. 

By Shivaraj KT

(The essay is written from the insights given from Ramappa, Security of the snake house of Mysore Zoo)

Mysore which is renowned as the cultural capital of Karnataka has its cultural heritage from the rich political dynastic history of the Wodeyar’s rule.  The Wodeyar’s contribution to the city has enriched the cultural legacy of the space.

By Aarushi Padhi

I came to Bangalore last year for my masters. New to the city, and far from home, I decided to stay with a friend who had already been in Bangalore for three years by then. She being a graduate from Christ added more to the reason of us staying together, given that I could learn the ropes from her, what goes and what does not, and when she proposed the idea, I was more than glad to accept the same. The only hitch was the fact that she stayed precisely 22 kilometres away from college, and there being no metro station nearby, I would have to devote at the least three, and at the most upto five hours, to traveling, each day, by bus. College timings coinciding with peak hour traffic and the ongoing metro construction did not make matters any easier. Nonetheless, the thought of coming home to a familiar face overpowered the exertion I would face every day, and I decided to give it a shot.
My day would start at 6.45 AM sharp, when I would leave home for the bus stop. Groggy with sleep, and not looking forward to battle the crowded buses and extremely slow moving traffic, I would trudge forward to wave down the bus. I had to change three buses, and walk quite a bit between the bus stops to reach my destination. Spending so much time in places where I could not be productive or do anything was starting to get on my nerves. I would usually look at my phone, aloof from, and very disinterested in, what was going on around. Eventually, I started looking more around me than into the phone. And I started realising how the city actually works, through the people. Through the compact space of the bus, I started developing a personal connection with the city, and all it took was to look.
Now, there are broadly two types of buses that run in Bangalore city. One type is the volvo AC buses, and the other is the normal, non AC ones. Since I am privileged enough to travel in both kinds, it helped me look at two very different facets of the city. The volvo buses charge almost double, mostly more than double for long distances, and hence mostly caters to the need of those who can easily afford it. It is used by the ‘corporate’ crowd, mostly young people who have come to work in Bangalore. The non AC buses, on the other hand, are used by proletariats; in this sense, the women heading off to sell their wares in KR Market, and men heading off to manual labour. The atmosphere in both kinds of buses would, obviously, be very different. Where one part of the city would be working on their laptops and making work related calls, the other part would be looking out the window, or making gajras to sell.
The journey from despising these long travels to looking forward to them has been enriching. It familiarised me to that part of myself that craved thinking space but got none, the part eager to observe and interpret. Now I stay not even 2 kilometres from college, and I sometimes think back, and almost crave, the intimacy I had with Bangalore, a closeness which can be formed in no other way.