Sometimes our memories of a place are a collection of fragmented associations. Pieces that collectively form what we remember and keep with us for life. There are a few things about this city that will be forever etched in my mind. Tiny, random memories that form the larger canvas of what was once life in Bangalore.
Crisp winter mornings.
The crunchy nip in the air.
A slight breeze.
That wonderful chilly but sunny its-great-to-be-ourdoors feeling.
And the rhythmic splashes of bright purple Jacaranda that dot the wintry streets.
Nothing infuses life into the Bangalore winter like the chilly outdoors interrupted by bursts of pink Jacaranda blooms. And in a city thats growing visibly different and increasingly maddening, each time I visit, its these little things that bring home familiarity. As I travel through the city, my eyes scan the environment, in search of those fragments that are etched in my mind. Signs of sameness. Signs of being home. Signs of solace and sanity in an otherwise insane place.
It was lovely to have come home in December. And if there’s one thing the Goan life deprives me of, it has got to be a good dose of winter air. Being in Goa is awesome. But this trip home made me feel winter-deprived. I’d kill to take some of this back with me. Weather that’s just right. Not too cold, perfectly breeze and complemented with toasty sunshine. So fit to be outdoors.
The next place I live in, is going to be cooler.