now: Feeling lost in Bangalore; then: living in the streets of my childhood ❤️

I was walking back from the grocery store, just another weekend in Bangalore, when I stumbled upon a group of kids playing football in an empty lot near my apartment. And suddenly, out of nowhere, it hit me, a wave of nostalgia so strong I had to stop for a second and watch them.

I used to be one of those kids, back in Mumbai. We played football in the narrow, dusty streets, between cars parked too close together and potholes big enough to twist your ankle if you weren't careful. We didn't have a proper football, not like the kids here. It was usually an old, half-flat one that had been kicked around for years, but that didn’t matter.

We played till it got dark, till the streetlights flickered on and parents started shouting from balconies to come inside.

There was something pure about those games. No expectations, no worries about deadlines or meetings or the next sprint your manager expects you to finish on a weekend. Just running, kicking, trying to score. Those were simpler times, no doubt.

It’s crazy, but I miss the chaos of those Mumbai streets. The constant honking and the street vendors yelling.

We didn’t have empty lots or green fields, but we made do. The road was our playground. The concrete and dust, our turf. You’d get bruised and scraped all over, but none of us cared.

Now? I can barely remember the last time I played football, or even just relaxed without thinking about work. My manager’s always breathing down my neck. “Just one more feature,” they say.

And you give in because that’s what you do. You do the work, because bills don’t pay themselves, right?

But standing there today, watching those kids, I felt this urge to join them, to forget about Jira tickets and pull requests, about the endless emails and meetings that lead to nowhere. To just be a kid again, if only for a moment. But of course, I didn’t. I stood there for a few minutes, smiled to myself, and walked away.

Bangalore’s a different place. But it doesn’t have the same soul, you know? The chaos of Mumbai had this way of making you feel alive, like anything could happen. Here, everything’s too orderly, too polished, too...expected.

I guess that's life though. You grow up, move cities, and lose touch with the little things that once made you happy. And then, out of nowhere, you see a group of kids playing football, and for a second, you’re reminded of what it was like to just be.