Sunday, September 23, 2012


A city where similarity is a style statement, where competition is a way of life. 
A city where one can easily sink into the comfortable cocoon of inconspicuousness, a city with surprisingly intense prejudices. 
A city with the quaintest pubs, where waiters are cooler than the customers. 
A city of denials concealed in its corners, fissures and shadows, tiredness in its nerves and aches. 
A city of dead-ends and of agonizing permanency, a city whose sense of humour is sadly limited to making fun of cultural stereotypes, where poverty has a bitter tang, festivals carry a joyful vividness and insecurities carry a furious arrogance. Despite its carefully veiled ordinariness, one can’t ignore the absurdity of its pride, the honesty behind its shallowness, the abundance of its cows, contact-lenses and liquor shops, the brevity of its promises, the mellowness of its sunsets and the suddenness of its loves. 
Bangalore, you stuck-up, adorable brat!