I’ve barely scratched the surface—haven’t even broken through the atmosphere when it comes to India. In the short time I was there, I witnessed so much, yet it feels like only a whisper of what she has to offer. She calls me back perpetually; her scents, sights, and sounds permanently engraved into the back of my mind.

I didn’t visit the city of Bengaluru—I brushed against her. The city moved like a conversation I couldn’t fully understand but felt deep in my chest. Amid the haze of incense and the honk of tuktuks, I wandered through streets layered with contrast: tech and tradition, rush and stillness, concrete and color.
The faces, the textures, the everyday rituals unfolding in plain sight—everything felt sacred in its own way. I didn’t come looking for answers. I came with open eyes. And Bengaluru gave me moments I’ll never forget, even if I still don’t fully understand them.