Every single day I tell myself “I will write today. I will take inspiration in the smell of new book and a freshly filled ink-pen and write”. But, I never get down to actually doing it. There were many times that I found the time and the energy, but I was missing an idea or sometimes, there were too many. I wanted to write about the joy of baking, the corporate world, and the variety of food or even culture, but nothing quite felt right. Now, though, I think I have finally found what I want to write about.

Ok, mystery or no mystery, a little bit about myself. I am a hard core South Indian Tam-bram. I like strong foamy filter coffee with The Hindu every morning, I love the smell of jasmine, my favourite breakfast is definitely Idli Vada, and I love nerdy boys and the only thing not South Indian about me is that I hate curd rice.  So, for a 25 year old who has lived in Bangalore all her life, isn’t it only obvious that I write my first post about the city? Now, if you built your life somewhere for 25 years you would either never leave or be so bored that you would never come back. I find myself exactly in the middle; I have been considering leaving this city to explore other options and get a taste of living outside. While the idea is exciting, a two month internship stint in Bombay, made me face the reality of living away from home. It isn’t as galmorous as it seems. However, my ambivalence still  fosters the desire to leave and live farther away, and this sometimes makes me wonder – “will I ever come back?”

 The answer to this million dollar question came to me when I was walking down the streets of my area into its vast market place. With the Varmalakshmi festival round the corner, there was so much colour and activity: street vendors wearing raincoats and selling colourful varieties of flowers, fresh fruits and vegetables glistening in the rain, trinkets to decorate homes…. families were shopping, kids were excited, women were bargaining…and that is when I realized that the energy I felt in that market today, and one that I have felt several times before, is something I’d never feel elsewhere. And in that energy, lay my answer.

And the answer is simple: no Delhi Janpat, no Bombay Colaba or no New York Times Square will ever make me feel the way 8th cross Malleswaram does because as the old saying goes, home is where the heart is. And my heart will stay in these streets of Malleshwaram along with my strong, foamy filter coffee even if I am half way across the world enjoying a fancy Starbucks latte.