Let me tell you something about myself first, because context matters: I have never been the person who finds a new city intimidating. Quite the opposite. A new place is an invitation — to explore, to taste, to show up at things without knowing anyone, to find the bookshop nobody talks about and the restaurant that has no Instagram presence and the community event that looks interesting on a Wednesday evening flyer. This is just how I’m wired. New towns don’t unsettle me; they delight me.
So, when we moved to Bengaluru as a family of three — and over the past year quietly, joyfully became a family of four when Haseena came into our lives. I embraced the move to Bangalore just as I did to Pune, with an open mind and all set to welcome the things that the city had to offer.
Bengaluru, for the record, obliges. It is a city that rewards the curious. It has layers — the old and the new, the chaotic and the considered, the kind of Friday evening energy that makes you feel like you’re perpetually arriving at a party that’s already well underway. Finding my ground here was never the challenge. That part, honestly, came naturally.
What I was navigating was something different. Something quieter and more internal, less about the city and more about this particular chapter of life. Because the truth is, being in your forties is nothing like I imagined it would be in my twenties or thirties. It’s better — but it’s also different in ways that take some getting used to.
I had found something precious in Pune: my home, my family, plus a sense of liberation, a real freedom, a life shaped very much on my own terms with a partner who made space for exactly that. That version of life had been so good. And now it was evolving — just moving into the next thing.
What I’ve learnt about myself in this decade: I am done with drama. Mine, and especially other peoples. I don’t engage with it anymore — not because I’m cold, but because I have too much that’s genuinely good to spend time on what isn’t. No FOMO, no YOLO, none of those frantic acronyms that make life sound like something you’re always at risk of missing out on. I’m not missing out on anything. I’m fully here, living exactly as I want to live.
Aprisio and the joy of meeting new people
Along the way, made some friends, met some people with common interests and one turned to the other, and that is how I discovered Aprisio.✦
In your 40s, you are no longer chasing the flashy lights, or new pubs to go hang out and party in. Heck, I dont think i ever did that. You get what I mean~ There’s enough buzz for those in their 20s and 30s but cut to 40s-50s and there is a bit of silence, and the noise/activity space is buzzing once you cross 60s. And so the community is the right place for many of us in the “I don’t know what to do, kinda feeling lost, looking to connect with people my age” space.
So, anyways thanks to the community and the other fun activities the city has queued up, life has been good.. Cant complain.. This weekend was busy, saturday was at Double up [Hilton bangalore, Manyata Tech park] sipping on cocktails made with ingredient from Bihar by Kiran and last evening was at an event learning about a different kind of drink, the Kombucha… Both days, I connected with a few who’d come, was deep in a conversation about fermentation and whether sourdough was genuinely worth the effort (it is, apparently — though I remain unconvinced).
Nobody asked me what I did for work. Nobody treated me like a newcomer to be politely managed. They just… talked to me, the way you talk to someone you’re interested in. I went home that evening feeling something I yearn for in this phase of life- being seen and heard…
I’ve been to talks and cultural events that i came upon on Instagram or Bookmyshow and come away with thoughts still rattling around in my head days later. I’ve cooked elaborate meals with people I barely knew, in a kitchen full of mild chaos, and laughed hard over things we all had in common…
Being a woman in her 40s
“The forties aren’t about finding yourself. That work is done. They’re about choosing, very deliberately, what — and who — gets your energy.”
I want to say something about being a woman in her forties doing this, because I think it’s worth naming. There’s a quiet cultural assumption — rarely stated but somehow everywhere — that by this point in your life, your social world is sealed. Your people are your people. The idea of walking into a new space and genuinely expanding your world is treated, sometimes, as a young person’s game.
I find that idea mildly ridiculous. The forties, in my experience, are when you finally have the self-knowledge to choose well. You know what bores you. You know what lights you up. You know within about twenty minutes of meeting someone whether they’re your kind of person. That’s not narrowness — that’s efficiency.
I have a few close friend, who’ve become my support system over the years — a real one, the kind you message without a reason — who I met there. I have a monthly once routine of meeting a few from the bookclub am a part of, most of them are women.. Sometimes we continue the day with a lunch or coffee.
I came to Bengaluru already whole. That’s the thing I want to be clear about. I wasn’t looking to be rescued or rebuilt or rediscovered. I arrived curious and ready, the way I always arrive in a new place. Plus Bangalore is a city am quite familiar with- have visited it numerous times in my 20s & 30s, but then like i tell people now “visiting is very different from living in a city/town”
Life with a partner I love, a city I’m growing into, Haseena now padding around, chewing on everything she can find… makes the whole thing feel complete — it is genuinely, quietly, remarkably good. No drama. No noise. Just a full life, lived on my own terms
Here’s to all that lies ahead….
