‘The beauty of Namma Bengaluru lies in its inclusiveness and how it embraces everyone who comes into its fold’

On a crisp winter morning, this bunch of true-blue Bengalureans came together to commemorate the moment by reflecting on a city that has shaped each of their lives.
Theatre person and actor B Suresh, who was among the first to arrive, pulled out a photograph on his phone. “This is the original black-and-white town-planning image of Basavangudi. See how thoughtfully it’s laid out, the rest of the area grew around it,” he shared. Actor-director Sindhu Murthy, a third-generation Bengalurean, echoed his sentiment. “South Bengaluru is still my favourite. I sometimes drive through Malleswaram, Jayanagar and Basavangudi just to soak in the old-world charm,” she tells us. As Samyuktha Hornad and her mother Sudha Belawadi walked in, a friend greeted them with news of pickle-making plans using nellikai (gooseberry) plucked from their garden. Prabhu Mundkur, Ankita Amar, Vijay Suriya and danseuse Chandana Ananthakrishna followed, each with fond memories of the city they have lived in and loved.

Rajinikanth was the conductor on the bus I took to school every day: B Suresh
“I’m a pucca South Bengaluru boy and have lived here since 1969. My father chose this part of the city so my mother and I would be among familiar languages and people. I studied at Sharadha Sthree Samaj School and took the 10A bus every morning, it cost 25 paise. The conductor was Shivaji Rao Gaekwad, who later became Rajinikanth. Once the bus filled up, he’d make me sit on the engine box, it was unbearably hot by the end of the ride. SLV, where we’re sitting today, was once the backyard of my teacher’s home, with sapota and jackfruit trees. Mahila Seva Samaj was started by Parvathiamma, one of the city’s earliest highly educated women. From women in nine-yard saris visiting mathas to women serving as High Court judges, the city has always made space for everyone. Even in the 1960s, we had cycle rallies exclusively for women. Bengaluru’s charm lies in its inclusivity, it makes everyone feel at home.”

We enjoyed the 5 pm stenographers’ rain of old Bengaluru: Sudha Belawadi
“The Bengaluru I grew up in had tree-lined avenues, orchards, grand old homes and long chats with neighbours. We cycled along Nanda Road just to admire the canopy. I studied at Mahila Seva Samaj and often walked home from Chamrajpet to enjoy the five o’clock ‘stenographers’ rain’, named for its punctual arrival at office closing time. On summer nights, we slept on the terrace. My ajji fed us soppina huli and kai tuttu with aralu sandige. Mornings began with parrots chattering in the tree beside our house. We felt we belonged to the city — and the city belonged to us.”

Our homes, hearts and compounds were always open: Samyuktha Hornad
“Our house stood behind my ajji’s, with joint families living across three large compounds. There were regular power cuts and that meant time for music, learning shlokas and eating kai tuttu. Food was always ready, and jamkhanas were laid out for guests who walked in unannounced. Our garden had fruit trees, and we waited to watch children steal from them. When pickle season arrived, bottles of homemade pickles went to every house. There were no barriers or social media, just open homes, hearts and conversations.”

I witnessed the city’s shift from government offices to private enterprise: Ankita Amar
“I grew up hearing stories of old Bengaluru from my parents, both bank employees. We saw postmen deliver letters and telegrams, which hardly happens today. My parents were movie buffs, and Bengaluru being the hub of cinema, they watched the magic of Dr Rajkumar, Vishnuvardhan and Shankar Nag unfold, probably igniting our love for films. The day of Dr Raj’s demise is etched in my memory, I saw how deeply the city loved him. I also watched mindsets change. Families that once saw government jobs as the only security embraced private careers. Bengaluru has always offered opportunity and the freedom to build a livelihood.”

Bengaluru supports life across income brackets: Chandana Ananthakrishna
“Growing up in Tumkur, Bengaluru felt magical. My earliest memory is the pastry my father brought home after his visits. Later, I came here for dance performances. Once I moved, I fell in love with neighbourhoods like Jayanagar and Chamrajpet, with their tiny coffee outlets and street hotels. What stands out is how the city supports people across classes — you can still find a plate of idli for `10, shop well within your means, and rely on street vendors. Be it arts, music, dance or theatre, Bengaluru is a canvas for all.”

From local roots to a city that embraces all: Vijay Suriya
“When I was kid, it took barely 10 minutes to get from Jayanagar to Gandhi Bazaar, as opposed to more than half an hour today. Nanda Road, with its green canopy, stayed cool even in summer. I’ve watched old homes make way for high-rises and people from across regions arrive. The city has grown more inclusive and festive, teaching us the spirit of live and let live. I only hope we retain our authenticity as we grow.”

We could see Madiwala Lake all the way from near our place in BTM Layout: Sindhu Murthy
“I’m a third-generation Bengalurean. When my parents built a home in BTM Layout, it was considered a forest. We could see Madiwala Lake from a few lanes away. My parents would hand over the keys of our house to the Shetty angadi (shop) owner when they went to work. I returned from school at 3 pm and stayed alone until 5 pm, never feeling unsafe because everyone looked out for one another. Today, BTM is unrecognisable. Traffic, garbage and apathy have taken over. I wish we took up ownership of our surroundings instead of treating the city as separate from ourselves.”

I came as a migrant and now it’s home: Prabhu Mundkur
“Growing up in Udupi, Bengaluru was the city of dreams. I moved here for work and it gave me the life I have today. I’ve lived on Chord Road long enough to see it change from a quiet stretch to a busy artery. Mahalakshmi Layout once lay under fog till 8.30 am — we wore sweaters most of the year. I may be a migrant, but this city has given me enough to call it home. My only concern is its fading aesthetics. I wish we were more responsible as citizens.”

Bengaluru decoded

• Who is the quintessential Bengalurean?

“One who speaks at least three languages besides Kannada and makes everyone feel included,” says B Suresha.

• The Bengaluru of the future?

“A city with more opportunities, a cultural melting pot, one that celebrates local and global food, its sabhas, katcheris and nightlife,” says Vijay Suriya.

• Advice to those who have made Bengaluru home:

“Don’t treat it as a temporary arrangement. Show the city the same courtesy you would back home, be mindful of garbage, neighbours and shared spaces,” says Sudha Belawadi.