New Home, Old faces

Rewind one and half years, and the last place I wanted to be in, was Bangalore. A lot of well-intentioned relatives with abnormally long noses, a city that held no surprises, and the impossibly obnoxious yuppie crowd. The only thing I could see in the positive was the impossibly temperate and soporific climate.

Now as I look back on it, Bangalore or as it has been rechristened Bengaluru is not that bad a place. I am at my antisocial best, paying a visit to my Grandpa's only when I miss the home made food. The constant penury makes sporadic visits to the pubs weigh heavy on one's wallet and a protective shield of friends makes female intrusion a probabilistic impossibility.

The abject mess that surrounds us, the dump of unwashed clothes, shoes strewn across half the hall, the stinking bags of rubbish that had to be thrown out a couple of days before should put off the majority of the population that deserve to be termed homo sapiens, yet curiously enough it is a throwback from the much reminisced past. The oft disastrous attempts at cooking, the compulsory drinks on weekends, friends dropping in all the time and the reliving of hostel life have made it an unlikely haven.