It’s been over a month since I moved to this city and it’s time I write a relatable article about it (because social media shares will increase automatically). Like many (pretentious) writers, I’m sitting alone at Tata Cha on 12th Main in Indiranagar which is a hop skip jump away from my brand new (rented) apartment. I just finished shopping for onions, potatoes and other stuff I never asked the prices for when I swiped Mom’s credit card at Hypercity back home.
By now you must have gathered that I’ve lived a rather privileged life, with a decent amount of luxury. It’s not like I didn’t contribute to the household, I cleaned up every time I hosted a house party while my parents were holidaying.
Before I moved, my parents were tensed if I’d be able to pull it off and I had to keep them in the loop through my house hunting phase and then setting it up. I need them to know I’ve not wasted twenty six years learning nothing despite what my report cards said over the years. My friends told me how amazing and happening the social life in Bangalore is, especially Indiranagar. I was so excited to explore that but I’ve mostly ended up finding places to hang out alone, walking out of the house looking like a homeless junkie and letting occasional visitors like lizards and cockroaches exist in my humble abode for company.
My landlady is a sweet, nice woman, who can’t stop mothering me and I’m letting her because she sends food over (mostly out of pity). I mean, who can say no to chicken biryani, gajar halwa and chocolate brownies (especially brownies *wink*).
Last month I hosted an open mic, since it was my first ever gig in this city, I was nervous as hell. I didn’t know how much of my trash talk this city could handle. I had created that comfort level in Mumbai, this audience could easily throw me off the stage at my first attempt. So I started out mellow; I was the perfect nice smiling person who was waiting to see the limit of the crowd. After a few performances, I couldn’t control myself being savage and suddenly the crowd was either offended at my comments or finding me funnier than the actual stand up performers. Realized two things: bad performers prove to be good content for jokes and alcohol helps.
All in all, when you move with the pace of the city, you have time to create content from your surroundings which I couldn’t do in Mumbai. There, I could only crib about traffic, molesters, local trains, auto wallahs, bad roads and how despite it all everyone is running towards invisible goals by wasting the time they have to actually live a life.