I've lived in the North for almost all my life, but under some rather unexpected circumstances, I ended up living in Kudla.
Of course, things weren't as rosy as the title might suggest. There was no Instamart or Blinkit when I first moved here, everything shut by 9–10 PM, auto drivers could charge you whatever they pleased, and getting anything delivered from Amazon meant waiting at least a week.
Kudla was nothing like the North, except for the occasional murder that made me feel right at home. /s
Jokes aside, I miss Tulunadu so much.
I miss the rains, the thunder, the greenery, the serenity, the ancient history, the filter coffee, and those scenic roads. Most of all, I miss the peace and tranquillity I never knew I needed until I experienced them here.
I now live in one of India's southern capitals, but a part of me still longs for Tulunadu. Someday, I want to buy a home there, get a vehicle of my own, and explore every corner of the region. I want to document its places, stories, traditions, and history, preserving whatever I can along the way.
I don't want Tulunadu to become another land of glass skyscrapers and concrete jungles. Its history is far too vast, its culture far too rich, and its soul far too precious to be buried beneath the skyline.
Maybe it's strange to feel this attached to a place I haven't spent most of my life in. But sometimes, a place just feels right.
And I think Tulunadu might be that place for me.