A Traveler's Heart

I was born in Madras, India. It’s called Chennai now but I always will call it Madras. That’s not home to me though. Bangalore (now called Bengaluru) is home. I know that sounds weird. My childhood was split growing up in Jeddah and Al-Khobar in Saudi Arabia with two-month vacations every year to Bangalore and Madras. 

I never liked Madras. It was too hot, too conservative for me. I didn’t know the language, the auto drivers refused to speak English or Hindi and my cousins lived more than an hour away. I felt stifled in Madras and would count the days when we could go visit Bangalore.

Russell Market in Shivajinagar, Bangalore - a city icon

Bangalore is freedom to me. Just the name is enough to bring images of big beautiful trees, the cool breeze hitting your face in the Auto rickshaw, the smell of roasting corn and the promise of romping times with cousins.

Twirling among trees - near Bangalore

It's funny how you change. I still love Bangalore with all my heart. But living in California for the past eight years is making me love this place just as much, sometimes even more. The Bay Area is home to me now.

Is it possible to have more than one place to call home? Is this how a traveler’s heart feels? Feeling utterly Blessed to be where it is and finding things and people to love?

Beautiful Golden Gate Bridge - view from Marin headlands