Things I miss about Mangalore
Those who travel a lot don’t seem to realize that they are swinging between tiny air pockets called time. A sunset in one city and a sunrise in another sound perfect to me. But turns out that isn’t the case for most high-flying individuals in practical terms. Maybe the novelty wears off soon and you just want to head back home as soon as possible. Or maybe you are that bird who didn’t sign up for flying. Either way, it’s interesting how the mobile and the stationary are both caught up in the middle.
I am somewhere in the middle now.
This week, I complete five months of sojourn in Gurgaon without any interruptions. I haven’t had a home in a while now. Prior, I was in Mangalore for exactly three years. If you’ve followed my rants blog, you must be familiar with my pre-pandemic desire to move to a place that isn’t a big city. We ultimately moved in the middle of the pandemic and for all the troubles caused, the city didn’t disappoint at all. Hands down, Mangalore is one of the sweetest cities in the country. Unlike Gurgaon, extreme weather doesn’t dictate your mood there. If you are sorted work-wise, you get to actually live a lot more, compared to metros.
The unspoken luxury of time and pace.
Obviously, these viewpoints are starkly personal because everybody’s idea of what a city is supposed to offer is different. If you are used to getting your groceries delivered to your doorstep within 15 minutes, you are going to miss Blinkit in Mangalore. Fortunately, smaller cities make up for it by offering you better fruits and vegetables, cleaner air and water, fresher seafood, and so on. At least that’s what Mangalore does.
Similarly, Gurgaon is best suited for those who are driven by ambition/success and won’t take “no” for an answer. Mangalore is perfectly fine with “maybe” too. To each their own city to stay and crib. At the end of the day, no city is turning into a village in India. It’s always the other way around.
That said, gratitude doesn’t come naturally to me. I’ve got to go through churns of bereavement to accept that good things did happen in the past. Which brings us to the main subject of this much-delayed blogpost.
Let me list out a few things that I miss about Kudla:
People: There are some places where you can just strike a conversation with a person sitting/walking/standing next to you. Mumbai is one of them. Mangalore too falls in that category. In my experience, Mangaloreans are the most helpful folks I’ve seen so far. And that’s rich coming from someone who grew up in Bombay, surrounded by the most cooperative people.
Dogs: I had made quite a lot of friends with four legs and wagging tails in and around Kavoor.
Goli baje: Once you have those crispy, hot goli bajes with coconut chutney and filter kaapi at Woodlands, there is no going back. You are marked for life.
Beach: Before shifting my ass to Mangalore, I thought I’d be spending a lot of time at the beach—considering the fact that sea was barely 5 km away—but truth be told, I barely got to visit. Now, when I think about it, I should have spent more time listening to the sea waves, leaving footprints and names on the sand.
Driving: I overcame my fear of cars in Mangalore and I am grateful to the nice motorists who didn’t honk like maniacs whenever my third-hand car stalled in the middle of the traffic. Oh, yes, I miss driving. That was stressful but fun.
Quizzes: To be frank, what I enjoyed the most about attending and hosting quizzes was I could meet new people of all age categories, once a month or so. Winning was never a priority. Just kidding. I was super-competitive.
Seafood: I miss consuming my delicious and nutritious ancestors, marinated and cooked in the most divine of spices. OK, that didn’t come out right.
Plants: I tended to 62 plants at our apartment. Yes, you read that right. I have a strong feeling that they are used to going through photosynthesis without me.
Culture: When you live in a place like Mangalore, you get to experience plays and cultural programs that bring you closer to your roots. Although my Bombaiya Tulu can be an abomination—with irregular pronunciations and broken proverbs—I often felt better knowing that I could take a break from Netflix and attend Buta-Kola, or such ancient practices, for a change.
Village: If it were to me, I’d avoid visiting our village completely—the eternal “when are you planning to become a father?” question dulls my skull out—but my amma is extremely attached to her birthplace. So, by extension, I used to drive 1.5 hours down to our village near Manipal, and spend one or two or three days there.
Ranga: It’s been a while since he passed away but I do watch dreams where he is well and happening lazy as always. This was a dog who was born in Gurgaon and traveled over 2000 km south with us. Quite a journey, he had. I don’t know whether I miss him or I miss him in Mangalore.