To Bengaluru and Back #01

21 Jun, 2026

Chapter 1: STOP AND SMELL THE EGG PUFFS

For as long as I can remember, I've called Bengaluru home.

A childhood I can hardly recollect. The adolescent years I wish I could forget. And my grown-up years, spanning a dozen romantic pursuits and at least half as many career pursuits, with varying degrees of success.

I've made all of these memories (and then some) within Bengaluru's city limits.

So when I tell you that this city is a shithole, you'd be inclined to believe me. Maybe you even think that I'm uniquely qualified to make such an observation.

But maybe... don't?

The Bengaluru that tourists experience and the one that residents like me experience are two entirely different beasts. You see, for those of us who reside in the city — with full-functioning lives as students, employees, housewives, and entrepreneurs — we barely have the time to go through the motions of daily life. So experiencing the city (whatever that means) is not exactly at the top of anyone's priorities.

Perhaps this is the case for every city out there, but what do I know, boss? I've been in Bengaluru all my life, with nearly nothing to show for it. At least until recently, that is.

I went from passively haunting the city to actively experiencing all that it has to offer. And, really, it's easier than you think. All it takes is one step: unemployment. Have you got what it takes?

I fell into unemployment sometime last year, and thought that I was finally free from a life of indentured servitude. But it felt wrong to not work at all. I decided to pick up some freelance work here and there, just to keep myself occupied. Before I knew it, I made even more money, and got even more busy.

There comes a time for every freelancer, though, when they can sense that some (or all) of their clients are going to fire them. That time came for me, too. I got a little ahead of myself, and ended up firing all my clients before they had the chance to fire me.

In the meanwhile, something happened to the economy, as it so frequently does, and it became near impossible for me to find work. I decided to lean into unemployment, and stay there as long as my savings would allow. Which was anywhere between a few months to a whole year, depending on how much I'd spend each month.

I'd like to believe it's my excellent financial discipline that let me set aside a handsome enough rainy-day fund.

Although, if this book were to become a bestseller, as I suspect it would, haters would claim that it's my gender and caste privilege which allowed me to earn enough in the first place to warrant any savings. They wouldn't exactly be wrong, but it would still hurt my feelings very much.

Through this book, I will break down exactly what it's like to experience Bengaluru after simply residing in it for years. When you finish reading it, perhaps even you can enjoy all that it has to offer, without necessarily losing your job. But I'm not in any position to go making promises, you understand.

I used to work jobs that required me to be always on, so, naturally, I had to snip away at all the useless distractions in my life. Things like my health and well-being, a half-decent relationship with my family, and friendships of any shape or form. Now that I was cured from the maladies of formal employment, my social life was beginning to blossom again.

One day, when I was done third-wheeling my friend and her boyfriend at the cinema, I got on my two-wheeler to make my way home. I got stuck in my neighbourhood's regularly scheduled traffic jam, as one does in Bengaluru.

It's true. Our roads are riddled with traffic. But they are also riddled with one other thing: bakeries. Look around while you're out and about, and you'll surely spot one of the these.

1. a pure-veg Iyengar bakery (avoid)
2. a non-descript SLV bakery (only to be used in emergencies)
3. a bakery named after the owner's estranged mother, especially if they are of Malayali descent (go without thinking twice)

Ask any Bangalorean about another city they've visited, and they'll tell you how they're surprised — no, appalled! — at the sheer lack of bakeries lining its streets. What Negligence in Urban Planning!, they'll tell you.

On this particular day, I was in no rush to head back home. I didn't have to send any number of emails or attend any number of meetings once I was back in range of high-speed internet. And so, I decided to park my scooter next to the bakery, clearly making the traffic worse.

I closed my eyes and smelled the egg puffs, without a care in the world. For a few moments, I was transported to another world... a culinary heaven.

I was, however, lulled back into the real world with a symphony of honking and yelling, followed by a selection of Kannada swear words I'd never heard before, despite spending the better part of three decades in Karnataka.

I singlehandedly improved the traffic situation in my neighbourhood by dislodging my scooter from where it was parked. You're welcome, Ward Number 183 of Greater Bengaluru Area, you're very welcome.

Maybe tomorrow, I thought to myself, as I made the last leg of my journey home, I'll make another trip, just for that egg puff. No other agenda. Not like I had much else to do, anyway.

I'd better leave the scooter¹ at home and walk the distance, though. Because the traffic is a tad more tolerable when you are not an active part of it.

Aww, would you look at that!

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#To Bengaluru And Back