The monsoons have arrived in Bangalore and with it has brought to life the lush greenery that this place is famous for. The tree lined 100 Feet Road in Indiranagar is once again a bloom of purple, red and yellow Gulmohars that form a canopy throughout its length. Early mornings are slowly advancing towards getting chilly and the mist hangs thick atop the tree branches with washed up streets below from the overnight deluge of rains. The only drawback of all this beauty is the muddy potholes that form on the roads and splash around with every passing vehicle. The rain falling outside my window is creating a sweet music on the nearby tin roofs, amplifying the magic of yearly monsoons.
I came to this city as a student more than a decade ago and in no time fell in love with its beauty, culture and people. Even after staying in numerous other cities over time, Bangalore still feels more home than my own hometown. Once a sleepy pensioner’s paradise, with traditional old bungalows and verdant parks that dotted its vistas, today, it is a bustling mix of almost all nationalities – from young expatriates working in the multinational high-rises to the old locals.
Today being a Sunday morning, there is not much traffic and I decide to detour my walk from the park to the main street. Walking under the canopy of trees, it’s almost impossible to miss the blend of the old city with the new. High Street designer brands sit comfortably alongside the traditional Adigas and roadside flower shops near the ancient temples. I take a right onto one of the by-lanes and stroll into Defence Colony with its old traditional as well as new designer bungalows arranged in a neat line. The melody of Suprabhatam chants fills the air from a nearby house and the street is slowly coming alive with pets and their owners out for their morning sojourn. A little ahead of me stands the colourful graffiti walls of the Max Mueller Bhavan with students already rushing in the gates for the morning lessons.
A newspaper boy whizzes past me on his bicycle and throws a bundle of the Sunday edition to a third floor balcony. The laid back charm of Bangalore can be visibly seen in the roadside vegetable, coconut water and steaming hot idli vendors opening shop. No one seems to be in a hurry on this sleepy misty morning apart from that newspaper boy who is now only a dot near the end of the road. I step back into the main street and head towards Cuppa for my ritualistic morning Masala Chai with a book for company. “The weather feels so nice!” quips the friendly waitress, glancing at the dark grey skies pregnant with the promise of rains. As I look out towards the street – getting busier by the minute – the mild drizzle of the morning air is once again slowly gaining momentum and thick droplets of water bursts forth.
## Note: This was part of the assignment for the Travel Writing Course at MatadorU