Chasing Dreams, Paying Dues
Most of us didn’t grow up in Bangalore. We came in search of jobs, armed with a suitcase, dreams, and perhaps a soft spot for good weather and filter coffee. The city welcomed us with open arms—well, mostly. In our pursuit of a better life, we became part of this city’s buzzing economy. Every year, Karnataka ranks right at the top for direct tax contributions, and Bangalore is the undisputed engine behind those numbers. We pour money into the system through GST on every meal out and through the chunk of salary that disappears before it hits the bank account.
But then comes the inevitable punchline: For all that spending and sacrificing, what do we get back? The city’s infrastructure woes play out like a tragicomedy. Pothole-ridden roads, mysterious disappearances of civic funds, garbage woes, endless construction sites that never seem to finish—sometimes, the only thing that’s truly world-class is our collective sense of resignation.
Work Hard, Play a Little
To Bangalore’s credit, life for the young and restless can be intoxicating. There are hip pubs, quirky coffee shops, soothing jazz bars, awesome South Indian breakfasts, plays, concerts, and enough food festivals to keep a millennial’s calendar full year-round. But if you’re looking for fresh air or the simple joy of lying on some grass, options quickly dwindle.
When it comes to public green spaces for connecting with nature, the city offers precious little beyond Cubbon Park and Lalbagh, both legacy gifts from colonial times. While there are now parks like Freedom Park, M N Krishna Rao Park, JP Park, and Bannerghatta National Park, these are limited in number and generally overshadowed by commercial and residential sprawl. You will not find a lot of youth making use of these spaces, because they are unofficially reserved for uncles and young parents who can’t use strollers 0n the broken pavements. Ever tried visiting Nandi Hills on a weekend? All this only points to how starved we are as a people of a connect with nature. No wonder, when we really find a pristine place, we know nothing but how to ruin it.
The Real Estate Sink Hole
Let’s talk about the elephant (or should I say, luxury apartment) in the room: real estate. Everyone is buying, everyone is selling, and fear of missing out drives us to invest chunks of our savings into homes we hope will make us rich… someday. The reality? If you didn’t start the race early, it’s mostly a game of catch-up. The ones who really win are those with enough capital to gobble up prime plots before the “next big boom.” The rest fight over flats in far-flung suburbs, betting on future appreciation that may or may not materialize. And let’s not even start on amenities. Many developers don’t care if there’s a proper access road or regular water supply. Why bother, when desperate buyers will queue up anyway?
Real estate has become both a rite of passage and a trap. Investment in property dominates financial life, premised on value appreciation that has consistently favored those with pre-existing capital. While values have grown overall, those forced to stretch through loans in search of upward mobility often find disappointment when factoring in the opportunity costs and eroding quality of life.
Developers rarely collaborate to improve public infrastructure alongside their projects. Housing ventures frequently spring up in areas with patchy access roads, water scarcity, and poor civic amenities, simply because demand remains insatiable—customers continue purchasing regardless of infrastructure readiness.
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Growth, but at What Cost?
Every year, more people join the city—almost as if we add a new “Seattle” on the map. Yet, this horizontal growth doesn’t translate into easier lives for the ones already here. If you made the “wise” decision to buy in the north, commuting south might make you question your life choices. Want to rely on public transport? Good luck. Urban planning is always playing catch-up, and daily commutes test the limits of patience and lungs alike. Politicians should be drafting sustainable plans to connect the city for mass movement of citizens. But instead they are pouring in money into their pet urban projects or indulging in vote bank politics outside Bangalore.
And despite all of this missing, we lap up new projects far away from our work place hoping to cash in on the real estate boom. This FOMO that Bangaloreans act on is also the reason why our elected representatives have no accountability.
Why Do We Stay? Enter Stockholm Syndrome
So, why do we stick around? Is it hope, inertia, stubbornness—or something deeper? Over time, we convince ourselves that this chaos is lovable, our suffering meaningful. We boast about the weather (if it hasn’t rained out the city), the cafés, the “vibe.” We joke about traffic but never quite imagine leaving. Bangalore becomes home because, somewhere along the way, we fall for the city’s quirks—and get too invested to consider an exit. It’s Stockholm syndrome, urban edition. Has any government spoken about developing tier 2 cities, or applying the lessons from tier 1 cities when developing the rest of the State? So where will we go?
There is no future growth story outside Bangalore and that is why we convince ourselves that it is better to stay back. Our politicians are myopic and unprepared to cater to a rising economy. And let us not even go down the road of why people arrive in truckloads from the Communist states of India!
Between Hope and Habit
Bangaloreans log thousands of civic complaints hoping for a fix. We rally for lakes, trees, and cleaner air. But sometimes, it all feels like shouting into the void. Until something changes—until we stop settling, stop justifying, and demand a fair return on all we put in—Bangalore will keep testing the boundaries of our loyalty and optimism.
But hey, as long as there’s filter coffee and a gig to get to, where else would we rather be?
While you hear a lot of Bangaloreans complain over a plate of idlis or a glass of the city’s famous craft beer, the conversation never steers towards “Why are we still here?” The only people asking “Why are YOU still here” are the language warriors and regionalists – as if throwing out a bunch of people is going to bring back the city’s lost glory.
Share your own Bangalore tales in the comments. What keeps you here? What drives you mad? Let’s talk.
