In Remembrance Of That Fateful Day

It is scary, humbling, happy and hurtful all at the same time to know that the very street you were on in the evening has been bombed, just a few hours later.

Neither the OH nor I have ever been to Brigade Street-Church Road in the night-time during the Christmas-New Year holidays, when it is famously beautifully lit up. Neither of us are too keen on wrestling with the crowds that way. What we usually do instead is drive below the canopy of lights on the adjacent streets, slowly, admiring the decorations in the shop windows, imagining what the area would look like in the nights. That is precisely what we did just before this New Year’s eve as well. Only to come home to hear the news of the bombs on Church Street an hour or two after we left the place.

Church Street is one of my most favourite places in Bangalore, one that has provided us many hours of unadulterated pleasure. After all, it is the place where Blossoms, that paradise which Bangalorean bookworms haunt, is. Plus, the many eateries and the colours and liveliness that punctuate the street at all times has always fascinated me. The OH and I have walked the length and breadth of the road several times over, taking in the sights and sounds around us, stopping for a cup of coffee or a glass of lemon juice at India Coffee House at times or a bowl of hot lemon-coriander soup at 3/4 Chinese, or raiding Blossoms. At other times, we have tried to capture little moments on the street on our cameras, to the best of our abilities.

Our last, very fateful, trip to the place just made us realise how precious life is, how precious each day is. I started hugging the OH and Bubboo a little more tightly and a little longer after.

Maybe, I should go ahead and do that photo feature on Church Street that I always wanted to do on my blog, but never got around to doing.

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