MY CITY, MY PRIDE -1

Had been to Bangalore at my sister's place a year back. Gigantic growth in infrastructure, ongoing metro work & tremendous traffic on roads. So I was impressed for few hours, was jealous about the cultivated greenery too.

Faceless crowd & rush made me only jittery. While returning, met an old Tripuri friend at Bangalore Airport, my mood changed & got elevated when I landed in Agartala, which is eternally slow or dull, but it's the feeling that people know each other & common thread of familiarity binds us together.

A home to 0.43 million people showcasing a peaceful blend of century-old cultures of diverse Twiprasa and Bengali communities. Place with limited opportunities but unlimited warmth and happiness. This remote hilly land has already won the crown of the ‘most literate state’ in India, besides holding another national record of the highest ever voter turn-out percentage in exercising their democratic rights.

But sometimes I don't understand why people who have migrated to other cities or foreign countries are deriving pleasure by posting pics of Agartala that ruin the very dignity of their own place. Development is a process. And it will take time to build metros and bridges. We the residents don't complain about it. But I am curious to know the reason why people who have left my city are always interested to paint my city black? Guilt of leaving Agartala or desertification of innate family values of unconditional bond of parental love or both.

Please don't think I am biased. I love my city, my Agartala to core of it. I don't feel guilty as it may not have awesome weather and architectural monuments or marvels of technology.I wonder is it so abnormal not to dream big and climb the ladder of professional success. Or a simple yet serene life in a small city can be equally fruitful? 

I always envy people who migrate to other cities or countries to chase their dreams & start loving the new ones. They connect with new friends with effortless ease & explore new experiences.  And here I seat in my illusionary castle remembering the slices of memories which we had shared together. Colourful rainbows of old friends only add grey twilight and turns into purple haze. I fear one day this city will turn to a "city of pensioners".