Ihave never believed in the concept of belonging to a city or a village. I belong to people — to emotions shared, laughter exchanged, and memories made. Yet, for the past two decades, I have found myself rooted in Bengaluru, a city that feels less like a place and more like a sentiment.

I came here 20 years ago after my father’s retirement, seeking education and, unknowingly, a home. Over time, Bengaluru ceased to be a city I lived in — it became the rhythm I lived by. Unlike other metros racing against their clocks, Bengaluru has mastered the art of wasting time beautifully. Here, “wasting time” isn’t an act of idleness — it’s a luxury that allows you to connect with yourself.

While Gurgaon, where I lived for some time, had its food and pace, Bengaluru offered something rarer — balance.

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