I was born in this city and all my adult consciousness has been moulded in its quiet tenacity. Firm ambition laced in placid motives somehow silted by the shores of tradition and I trudged back home.
Only, home was not what I had left behind. Home, I took with me in my heart and that’s where it dwells now – there’s no disputing it: Bangalore is not familiar anymore.
That’s until more returnees surface and crunch, like a force, down ruffled alleys into old nooks that will not change. And within those resilient walls, flavours continue their dance in tandem with quick-footed and practiced waiters who know exactly what their purpose in life is: tireless service to those who walk in and groom their individual banana leaves of perfect proportion, colour and, soon, content.
Like a happy infection, the spirit takes over within moments. It’s like sitting in a sepia mirro…