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I’m pretty sure a lot of people are sick of reading this because it was all over my Instagram stories for the past two days. I’m home for a week! I came on Sunday afternoon and apart from that afternoon, I feel like nothing has changed. It reminds of my time last year when I was on a gap year and when I did absolutely nothing and got up to the sound of my mother shouting in the other room saying I was messing up her schedule and what not, which was exactly how it was today. Only, Amma still made coffee for me.

The entire week before I left for home, I was in a terrible predicament (oh wow, look at me, using fancy words). I badly wanted to go home but at the same time, I hesitated. My friend Chai had once advised that I go home once the semester ends and not in between (only, in less kinder words at that moment). He though that once I’m back, I’ll be more homesick than ever. But for some reason, I did not sway then. I am hardly ever stubborn but that time I was and I decided I had to show him that I was not weak. True, I miss home and that’s not what defines weakness but I wanted to show him that I was strong enough to face it and punch it in the face if necessary. I told Pappa to go ahead and book a ticket for me. And he did.

But that entire week, as busy as I was with an exam and a “test”, I was full of nerves. How was it going to feel going back home? I was afraid of a lot of things. Was the city going to love me the same? Will it push me out thinking I betrayed it? Will I love the city same way I did when I left it? Will I feel the same way after going back to Bombay? Did I actually betray Bengaluru? Or did I find myself a new home? Am I even allowed to have two homes?

Well, some of those have been answered. I will love my city the same way despite its many, many flaws on the outside that I’m not used to in Bombay just yet. The people are pretty much the same everywhere so I shouldn’t have expected anything different when I was hauling my duffel bag in a thousand different angles from where the bus dropped me off all the way to the Metro station. The rest are still a mystery to me.

After coming back, I’ve realized how much colder Bengaluru is! I always thought it would be the pleasant sort of cold. But I’ve gotten used to a certain type of weather for two-and-a-half-months and I did not expect my body to forget the type of weather that it lived in for 21 years. I’m so disappointed in you, body. The Monday after I came, I was on the verge of falling sick. Even then, I ate chats and ice cream and went out roaming with my school friends. Some things never change.

I’ve been MIA a lot these days and today, as I was speaking with Naveen on the phone, he told me something that struck me. More than struck me, more like, shocked me. And I think that also sort of inspired me. I’m going to promise myself that I will blog/write three times a week and publish at least once a week. There’s just so much happening around me that I end up keeping it all in my head or voice notes or heart. Sometimes a letter or in my brand new art journal but not here. I want to write about that conversation that I had with the old man who was begging next to me as I waited for the bus on Saturday afternoon; I want to write about my train rides; I want to write about my discovery of people; I want to write about new discoveries of myself; I want to do so many things and the only thing standing in the way is me. I shall force myself out of the way and write it all out.

The different shades of Namma Metro

One city. Two different systems of public transport. Lakhs of different people. Where to look?! 

On Saturday, I was on my way to a “seminar” which was held at a hotel right opposite to the Metro Station. I got on the 3:17 train that afternoon, and stood by the door because there was no space to sit. I didn’t even bother to put on my headphones because by the time I reached inside my bag, took my headphones out, untangled them, inserted them in my phone, found the Groove Music App, played it and began listening to the first song, I would’ve reached my destination.

In the next stop, just before the door closing, a man stepped in. Trailing behind him, on the other side of the door were his wife and his small daughter. Seeing her father encased in glass without her made her burst into tears while the father sped away in the train.

There was a man standing opposite to me, leaning against that glass wall-thingy, when he told that father: “You could’ve waited, saar. Every five minutes there’s one train. What’s the hurry?”

No, there isn’t a train every five minutes. Every ten minutes there’s a train to the green line. But yeah, that father was in a haste. He could’ve waited for his wife, who was carrying their daughter. He could’ve carried his daughter. But then he got down in the next stop and probably got on the train with his wife.

Imagine the same scene in a BMTC bus. The wife and his daughter would’ve safely got on, if the bus conductor and driver were nice, kind people. No hassle of crying and all.

I promise, I will have better content about Namma Metro. I have lots, but I need to learn to put them in nicer words and make them sound pretty and funny.

The rain and the unpredictable people

It was the night Lord Krishna was born. By tradition and belief, it was said that night had to rain. In the legends, it rained so hard that it almost flooded.

That was in Mathura.

In Bengaluru, it also rained. It also flooded. The only difference was that no babies were born in the Parappana Agrahara jail. Or so I hope.

 

Since Monday, it has been raining almost everyday. It rained all through the night on Monday, leaving Tuesday morning, Independence day, a very bleak and gloomy and cloudy day. It rained so hard that night, that half of Bengaluru was submerged. Water flooded in houses;  roads disappeared and commuters stood knee-deep in scum and rain water. The weather got really cool; one might argue that it is tending towards cold, but the people haven’t shut up about how the water has flooded into their homes and destroyed it all.

And where were their houses? Lake beds and storm water drains. So who’s really at fault here?

The weather has gotten so nice that you can’t get out of the house with a scarf and a light sweater if you’re walking. I took the Metro train to the GPO on Saturday afternoon, and the clouds over my area looked so amazing.

Bengaluru people are a funny lot. They are as unpredictable as the weather in the city, and the people change from road to road, area to area, just like the weather. If it’s raining, part of the city is enjoying, sitting inside their homes and sipping hot coffees and eating hot hot bajjis; another part of the road is cussing the rains gods in a variety of slangs from various languages across the country. If you’re at the office, you’ll look worriedly out the glass wall and think that you’re going to get home no earlier than 9 in the night.

Picture credits to my best friend Divya!

I really had fun writing this rant.

Weekend Coffee Share #10 (!!)

First of all, look at that header.

Yesterday afternoon, I was trying to do something like that on Adobe Photoshop and I got stuck because, well, I don’t know how Photoshop works. So I texted Prince, asking him to help me out and guide me through it. That brilliant and thoughtful boy hooked me up with TeamViewer (which I didn’t know existed) and I was shocked. Utterly, unbelievably at a loss for words. After I got over my initial shock, we kept texting back and forth, him asking me what I wanted and me telling him that. He did most of the work for me. I only positioned the text and sized it all to my liking. I learnt a lot in the process and ended up having more fun than I ever thought I would.

I know I didn’t do this by myself, never thought I would, but I’m incredibly proud of it. Look forward to more of such design stuff in the future on all my blogs!

I went to the GPO (General Post Office, near Vidhana Soudha) sometime last week, via the Bangalore Metro, and I fell in love. There was a post shoppe, or something like that, where they had souvenirs, which included postcards. I grabbed 2 different packs of Heritage of Bangalore and one pack of Mysore. They’re all black and white photos, taken a really long time ago. They’re really beautiful and I’m sending along three of them (two Mysore and one Bangalore; too possessive about my city) to three different countries.

The second postcard on the left photo is a painting.

The Chamundi Temple and the Dasara Procession, Mysore

The Bangalore Palace

I also made two postcards, spent ages trying to change my style but with little positive results. I’m happy with them, though!

The travel via metro was phenomenal. Somehow, even though the technology was top notch, I still felt it was Bangalorean through and through. Call me crazy, but the whole atmosphere underground told me otherwise.

Since there’s a lot of Diwali sale happening online, my mother, who didn’t oppose one bit, bought me the entire Mortal Instruments Series. I got it yesterday, and I’m immensely happy! I bought a total of 12 books this month. Until next year then, book shopping!

I was on the phone with my two best girls yesterday (Messenger calls) and we spoke for two hours. I don’t remember what we spoke about, but since we hadn’t seen each other in the last few months, we obviously had a lot of catching up to do. It was one of the best nights ever.

This was my week, spent in juggling studies, lots of happiness, little exploration of the city, trying not to worry about my hairfall and a lot of art.

How was yours?