My Bangalore Story

By Srishtika Prakash

Her arms, wrapped like a canopy

soft as pink blossoms, they caressed me;

this love affair was an autumn child —

when our eyes met at Vidyarthi Bhavan

as we bit into our masala dosas

on the same table at sunrise.

A season later, I saw her at MTR again,

went up to her and said, "isn't this a coincidence?"

she smiled with her eyes sweet as honey,

"I don't mind sharing my table" she chimed in harmony.

I was new in town, her kindness felt homely,

she took me around, we did all things touristy:

from mornings at Cubbon Park to evenings at Toit;

the hours passed by, yet still stood time.

She held my gaze and spoke words full of life —

"but this isn't the real Bangalore, there's so much more!"

I took her hand in mine and said,

"why don't you show me then?"

Two autumns ahead, with arms around each other

she would tease me — turning hot and cold,

annoying me like a playful lover;

I went along — kissing the cold at night,

but at noon the sun would get in my eye.

She knew how to dissolve my complaints pretty well,

brought home some Corner House and indeed it was death by chocolate.

I could only love her more since then,

except this one time when

she was terribly—terribly late and said —

darling it's old Mr. Silk Board causing the delay.

I screamed and said, “well you should have known better not to meet him on my birthday!”

She tried reasoning with me but well

It was what a ‘lovers' quarrel’ was, they said.

But she did make it up to me again —

called up Nagarjuna and cried "help!"

He did break through the rift,

his recipe turned my emotions to a sweet blend,

satisfied — my face broke into a huge grin.

She squished me in a hug and said,

"looks like you're becoming a Bangalore chick"

I rolled my eyes at her, "you're the one who lured me in"

she leaned in for a kiss, and I obliged to her wish.

The next eve she called,

said let's go over to Bob's?

Oh but I knew he'd take long,

with my patience on vacation,

it just wasn't my day at all.

So with all good intentions,

In my cajoling voice I said,

"I know you love him and he's very dear to you, yes,

but — let's just go over to Madhuloka's instead?

I am really tired and she wouldn't mind me staying in my pyjama set."

She looked at me, shook her head and sighed,

"What da! Sim-simply you wanna laze in bed."

Promising her I said, "aye please babe, we'll pakka put one scene over the weekend"

That night we chilled with some whiskey and wine,

ordered-in Empire past midnight;

I slept off in her canopied embrace

as comfy as that perfect hoodie

that fits the cold after the rain.

Vidyarthi Bhavan called to our cravings as the sun brought up the day,

we stood in line — my heart filled with feelings I could barely contain.

This is where I first saw her — two autumns it's been since then;

I thought to myself:

She is the heart of this city for me,

she is my Bangalore story —

and even when I'm old and grey,

I will cherish her with a young heart always.

By Srishtika Prakash