4 min readJul 22, 2026 05:53 PM IST
First published on: Jul 22, 2026 at 05:53 PM IST
Which city do I belong to? The green strip of land that gave me roots or the cities that nurtured me to become the person I am today? Having grown up and studied till post-graduation in Thiruvananthapuram, and having worked in Chennai and Bangalore for years before landing in Delhi in 2015, I fail to find an answer.
Year 2004. The first full-time job was a dream come true, but the agonising fallout was leaving home, comfort and dear ones — my habitat. Uprooting oneself from verdant tranquillity to a fast-paced city where only the fittest survive was not an easy task. If rain was what I missed the most, food and language were daily barriers.
Still, I would call it my golden age with “24-carat” friends who made Chennai my second home. If late-night movies, long walks on Marina Beach and joyful moments with friends seemed pure blessings, caring senior colleagues who held me through my first steps at work were a bonus. The learning began — at work and in life.
In July 2007, I migrated to Bengaluru. More cosmopolitan, the city sprang a lot of surprises. I swiftly adapted to it, though Kannada was a hard nut to crack. Colleagues soon became the best of friends and every “closed holiday” became an occasion to celebrate with a picnic. A closed holiday in a newspaper meant all of us had a day off together — which happened four times a year then.
Being independent was something I learned in Bengaluru when I left the paying guest accommodation and started living alone in a one BHK. Overcoming each struggle gave me a newfound confidence. I started travelling more, writing more, working harder and earning more. I made a second home in Bengaluru. Owning a flat came with riders, but the sheer pride of being an independent woman sank in then.
After eight years and making umpteen memories and friends, I boarded the Rajdhani in June 2015. The most hostile weather welcomed me in Delhi, and it percolated into everything. Struggles of life unfolded in never-before-seen proportions — that of the ubiquitous cycle rickshaw wallahs were the initial frames. It took a few months and several conversations to convince myself that I was not helping alleviate any of their miseries by not taking a ride in a cycle rickshaw.
In Delhi, your humility can be taken as weakness. The city toughens you up, but it also gives you moments that melt your heart. It also gives you much-needed anonymity. If Bengaluru made me independent, Delhi gave me wings. You can’t tame this city; perhaps you may have to bring out a bit of your untamed side to survive here, yet its charm is that it allows your most fearless and unapologetic version to thrive.
I may miss the vast blue skies with fluffy clouds that adorn them any time of the year in Bangalore or Thiruvananthapuram. I may feel tortured at seeing an AQI of 40 in Thiruvananthapuram when I battle 600 in Noida. I may miss the jasmine-scented evenings and masala dosas of Chennai. But then comes a surprise summer shower – when I get to see amaltas against the black tar of a road, painted by raindrops and the drooping frangipanis drained of all their fragrance, I’m convinced. Dilli has my dil.
The writer is associate editor, The Indian Express. yamini.nair@expressindia.com
In Delhi, your humility can be taken as weakness. The city toughens you up, but it also gives you moments that melt your heart. 
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