A Walk, A Pause
A piece inspired by a quiet walk and a moment that defined Bangalore for me.
This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. Each of us examined the concept of ‘BANGALORE’ through our unique perspective, distilled into roughly 500 words. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.
A pandemic has struck. The city’s life, its bustling crowds, gone quiet.
I shut my laptop and step onto the road. A few friends who live nearby join me. We walk a familiar route past the playground where I used to run in the mornings. One of us doubts whether we should continue. The sun is about to set; we still have time.
A few steps later, the road is carpeted with pinkish red flowers. “Basant Rani!!” someone says. We walk on. Office talks fade into wondering what life would look like after the lockdown. We drift along with the cool breeze, clueless and unsure.
We pass a vast estate, shaded by towering old trees. A water tank, tall among a group of distant homes. Big banyan trees surround a Hanuman temple. A group of monkeys stare at us, expecting food. All eyes on the road.
At a turn near the temple — A vast grassland opens up, no houses, just fields and a tea shop. “Is this even Bangalore?” someone asks.
At a crossroad: one side, a clean highway; the other, a muddy path. We choose the mud. In the distance, a lone dome rises. One of us wants to turn back, “It’s getting dark,” he says. But a few yards ahead — A lake, majestic and alive. We walk to its neck. Trucks are parked nearby, part of some construction. The place hasn’t seen many visitors perhaps, the trucks and dust spoil the scene – only slightly.
The sun sets. With creeping regret, a question pops up – “How did we miss this place?”. After shuttling between office and room for months, we had stepped out.
An aimless walk turned into a discovery of a lake.
Raindrops begin to fall, soft at first then heavier. The lake ripples.
For a few seconds I stand in awe and let the moment sink in. Then thunder cracks and we rush to the dome. The rain takes control. We wait there for maybe an hour. When an auto comes by, we jump to get its attention. It rides us back to our cocoon.
Back in my room, hundreds of kilometres from home, I change out of my drenched clothes and wonder – “If I hadn’t stepped out, I would have missed out a lot”.
This city demands patience. Not much happens each day, but once in a while, it offers a moment that makes the wait worth it.
I still chase that moment, when rain hit my face and I stood, lost, looking at the lake. Maybe we all are chasing it. A stillness — the kind that sneaks up on you during a walk, beside a lake, just as the rain begins to fall.
Flash essays by Bangalore Substack Writers Group: -
Looking Down over Bengaluru by Vaibhav Gupta, Thorough and Unkempt
Blossom Book House, Bangalore by Rahul Singh, Mehfil
A Walk, A Pause by Mihir Chate, Mihir Chate
Bookless in Bangalore by Vikram Chandrashekar Vikram’s Substack
Bangalore: A personal lore by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana
Bangalore,once by Avinash Shenoy, Off the walls
Bangalore Down the lane of History by Aryan Kavan Gowda, Wonderings of a Wanderer
Nagar Life by Nidhishree Venugopal, General in her Labyrinth
Belonging by Shruthi Iyer, Shruthi Iyer
The Street Teaches You by Karthik, Reading This World
The Wild Heart of Bangalore by Devayani Khare, Geosophy
A Love Letter to Bangalore by Priyanka Sacheti, A Home for Homeless Thoughts
Movie Dates, Bangalore and Them by Amit Charles, AC Notes
Between Cities by Richa Vadini Singh, Here’s What I Think
A Haven? Awake in Bangalore, by Lavina G, The Nexus Terrain
My love affair with blue skies by Sailee Rane, Sunny climate stormy climate
A City That Builds Belonging by Sathish Seshadri, Strategy & Sustainability
There and Back Again by Ayush, Ayush's Substack