Another city, another time, another place. Memories of times gone by. Of Good times and bad. I know the bio reads Gurgaon but that is no longer true. We shifted to Bangalore a couple of months ago. The Job brought us here to the city of boiled beans and lush green gardens and since then much like a lot of the roads here our life has turned one-directional.
The people are less aggressive, much less in your face. But then at the same time, there is a subtle calculation - a weighing - measuring - assessing that goes on continuously and refuses to let up until there is a slot you fit into. People in Gurgaon are harder, but then they are also more transparent. Here everything has veneer of mist and fog - even the shop windows.
There was a time when I would have welcomed the hill station like quality of the place. Now it makes me long even more for the dusty bylanes and the crackling cold winters of the north. At least the seasons have a rhythm there, now - much like the residents - the days start of cold, acquire a transient warmth and end dark.
The coffee has a taste of it's own, no kick, no flavor - just a mild sense of nuttiness and the last thing that it does is wake you up. Sleepy and slow. that just about describes everything here.
Am I looking back with rose tinted glasses? Am i tired of the movement and the upheaval? Am I tired of thinking if only? I ask myself a lot of questions and go through a lot of introspection but at the end of the day I am still back to square one. I miss home. I miss the north.
Today I am in no mood to enumerate the positives of Bangalore. Today I will curl up in my comforter and pretend that I am in the middle of the northern winter, pretend that I am back home. Pretend that it is cold outside and that my only savior is a warm glass of ginger chai and jeera biscuits.
Just for today....
The people are less aggressive, much less in your face. But then at the same time, there is a subtle calculation - a weighing - measuring - assessing that goes on continuously and refuses to let up until there is a slot you fit into. People in Gurgaon are harder, but then they are also more transparent. Here everything has veneer of mist and fog - even the shop windows.
There was a time when I would have welcomed the hill station like quality of the place. Now it makes me long even more for the dusty bylanes and the crackling cold winters of the north. At least the seasons have a rhythm there, now - much like the residents - the days start of cold, acquire a transient warmth and end dark.
The coffee has a taste of it's own, no kick, no flavor - just a mild sense of nuttiness and the last thing that it does is wake you up. Sleepy and slow. that just about describes everything here.
Am I looking back with rose tinted glasses? Am i tired of the movement and the upheaval? Am I tired of thinking if only? I ask myself a lot of questions and go through a lot of introspection but at the end of the day I am still back to square one. I miss home. I miss the north.
Today I am in no mood to enumerate the positives of Bangalore. Today I will curl up in my comforter and pretend that I am in the middle of the northern winter, pretend that I am back home. Pretend that it is cold outside and that my only savior is a warm glass of ginger chai and jeera biscuits.
Just for today....
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