I have been bad at goodbyes, no matter how closely I cherish them. You write your messages, hug your farewells, get your papers in order, but somehow it still drains you empty on your last night.
Leaving Bangalore was bittersweet. I always say this to my friends, that if Bhubaneswar was a long drawn out relationship, Bangalore was a brief, heavy and a passionate affair to remember. Cities make a home in you, more than you make a place in them. It ruins you just like any other lover.
This small, Tibetan paratha shack near our place in Bangalore, was a life saver when my roommate and I craved some North Indian food. I have stolen many memories here. Some to keep, some to write about, and saved just enough to keep reliving a city that was at once, both brutal and kind!