I shall be leaving Bengaluru in a day or two, after having lived here during two distinct periods: first between September 2024 and July 2025, and then again during these recent months from March to May 2026. Between them, I have seen the city through almost all its seasons—under monsoon skies, amid flowering summers, in koel-filled mornings,Continue reading “Leaving Bengaluru”
Tag Archives: bengaluru
Bengaluru Is Changing Its Mood
Some weeks ago, after an evening shower briefly interrupted the tyranny of April heat, I had written a piece titled “Rain, Briefly!” The rain that evening had felt less like a seasonal turning and more like a passing gesture—welcome, restorative, but uncertain of itself. By the next morning, the roads had dried, the heat hadContinue reading “Bengaluru Is Changing Its Mood”
Rain, Briefly!
This evening, in Bengaluru, the rain arrived—not with the authority of the monsoon, nor with the drama of a seasonal shift, but with a certain hesitation. It was preceded, as such moments often are, by a gathering restlessness. The wind rose first—uneven, exploratory—moving through the trees with a sound that was neither whisper nor warning.Continue reading “Rain, Briefly!”
Bengaluru in April
I have come back to Bengaluru for a while—long enough, hopefully, to continue understanding something of its temperament. It is a city that both fascinates and unsettles me: in the feel and fragrance of its air, in the interplay of its sounds and silences, and above all, in the restless energy of its people. ToContinue reading “Bengaluru in April”
The Unseen Orchestra
After months away—across continents and climates, through the tempered quiet of New York/New Jersey and the restless, choking urgency of Delhi—my return to Bengaluru has been, above all else, a return to sound. Not the sound of traffic or human industry, though those are never far, but something older, gentler, and far more enduring—the quiet,Continue reading “The Unseen Orchestra”
Majjige: The Whispering Drink of Karnataka
There is a kind of drink that doesn’t shout, doesn’t fizz, doesn’t advertise itself with bubbles or bold labels. It just whispers. Yet, across kitchens in Karnataka, that whisper has echoed for centuries. It’s called Majjige—cool, milky, salted buttermilk. A drink that’s not only about taste, but about time. The Elixir of Everyday Life Majjige isContinue reading “Majjige: The Whispering Drink of Karnataka”
Is Bengaluru Decaying? A City at the Crossroads of Character
Bengaluru—once serenely known as India’s Garden City—is today hailed as the IT Capital of India, a pulsating nerve centre of the digital economy, flush with start-ups, unicorns, venture capital, and dreams coded in binary. But beneath this luminous façade lies a more sobering reality: a city caught in a slow but visible unravelling. One mustContinue reading “Is Bengaluru Decaying? A City at the Crossroads of Character”
Why Bengulurians Must Produce Less Garbage
Once famed for its flowering trees and lakeside breezes, Bengaluru now finds itself buried beneath the detritus of its own growth. The transformation from “Garden City” to “Garbage City” isn’t just about mismanaged infrastructure—it’s a symptom of something deeper: a culture of unchecked consumption, buoyed by convenience and prosperity. A City Consuming Itself With oneContinue reading “Why Bengulurians Must Produce Less Garbage”
Gliricidia Bloom
O Gliricidia, quiet and free,A lesson wrapped in mystery—That grace resides in things that fade,Yet in their loss, their light is made. Some trees stand tall and imposing, their grandeur capturing attention from afar. Others, like Gliricidia, enchant quietly, weaving a spell not through stature but through the ethereal beauty of their bloom. This timeContinue reading “Gliricidia Bloom”
The Caribbean Trumpet Tree: A Waltz of Falling Blossoms
When the Caribbean Trumpet Tree awakens, it does so not in a blaze of colour, but in a hush of pale elegance. Its trumpet-shaped blooms emerge in soft shades—an almost translucent white, sometimes tinged with the faintest blush of pink. Against the sky, they seem less like flowers and more like wisps of drifting cloud,Continue reading “The Caribbean Trumpet Tree: A Waltz of Falling Blossoms”
scribo ad LX 