Mangalore, Mangaloreans and their weather
People often ask me “Why Mangalore though?” and I genuinely don’t have a solid answer. You can’t explain infatuation in practical terms. You like something and that’s it. How are you going to put logic behind your need to listen to that one song again and again and again? That’s my equation with Mangalore. I didn’t even know this city, to be frank. Throughout childhood, I’ve referred to myself as a Mangalorean, as most Tuluvas in Bombay do, despite having visited this city only once during my entire schooling days, for a wedding of a cousin I can’t recall. So, yes, now that I am pretty much settled here—will be completing 3 years in less than 3 months—I wonder what drew me to this city.
One way to crack the code here is to accept that life nudges you towards knowing what you don’t want more often than what you really need. In my case, I didn’t wish to live in a big city anymore: enough of Mumbai and Gurgaon. It was the middle of the pandemic and a good enough time to recalibrate geography. So, we moved down south. I instantly fell for the humane vibe here. People smile at each other and are super-helpful; this felt like a place that hasn’t fully forgotten its village roots.
Slow but reliable.
In Gurgaon, if an electrician promises to show up at 10 AM tomorrow, he will show up before 10 AM tomorrow. In Mangalore, he will call you at 2 PM tomorrow to tell you that he will try to show up at 5 PM the following day, and then show up three days later—informing you over the phone every single day that he is trying his best. Like an alcoholic who is not ready to attend AA yet.
I sometimes wonder whether this affable but annoying temperament has anything to do with the weather.
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