On the night of 16th June, a Thursday, I lie beside my Ma as we try to slumber ourselves and rest for the day.
A song plays from my Spotify through the bluetooth speakers; a song from the 2010s, giving me a chance to reminisce about the youthful days spent as a child in Bangalore.
I don't know how or why, but I could only think of Bengaluru then. I didn't think of school or friends or family or all the memories of my experiences. Just Bengaluru.
Upon closing my eyes, I could see and feel Bengaluru in all her beauty and glory, the cool wind, the bad roads and traffic and the morning mist I'd wake up to. The morning chills that make my coffee go cold, the Namma Metro I'm always so proud of. The filter kapi shop at every nook and corner in the morning with people who wake up with the city. The aroma of caffeine and petrichor in the Bengaluru air.
I cried as silently as I can, clenching onto my pillow as if I'm trying to not let go of it. I cried in acceptance that I miss Bengaluru, my city, my birthplace and I miss that I cannot come back to it for a very long time.
Alas, I should've been careful about what I wished for. I always had a memory of wishing to be at a new place on my 25th Birthday but didn't know at what cost.
So here are 2 lessons I take away,
1. Everything comes at a price, even a wish to start a new life in a different city.
2. I know I miss Bengaluru more than I've missed my friends
I write this with a heavy heart and a wanting for my Bengaluru soil. The aroma of it. The texture of it. The Earthen Essence of Bengaluru.
To be able to see my Namma Bengaluru again, to be able to breathe in the Bengaluru air, to be able to have another filter kapi and Benne Mysore Masala Dose...
To be Alive, in Namma Bengaluru...
Have you ever cried for a place? Have you longed to be there again? What's your birthplace? Would you cry if you migrate away from it?
Let me know. We're all human after all...
Until later,
Your blogger,
R
