The City I Remember - Of Concerts, Curtain Calls, and Cafés that Never Changed

Bengaluru is a city of many hearts, alive in sudden rain showers, voices that mingle across languages, and a rhythm that lingers in unhurried metro rides, the cool evening breeze, and the lush green trees that have watched generations grow. This blog gathers these moments to celebrate the Bengaluru that has always felt like home.

The City I Remember -
Of Concerts, Curtain Calls, and Cafés that Never Changed
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I can still find traces of an old city in the cracks of a new one. Times have changed, and everything that the city once was is fading away, but we still find fondness in remembrance. To many Bengalureans, nostalgia is sweeter than love, ebbing and flowing in its weather; the memories of the past still linger in some corners, and the orange-hued sunsets that make the entire city gleam.
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A gulmohar stubbornly flowering through concrete.
A thatte idli joint where time moves at its own pace.
Old roots beneath new ones, the city is layered like a palimpsest.
But to understand the real Bengaluru memory, you have to listen to it.
Because this city once pulsed with concerts and curtain calls.
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Concerts were big in the city. The buzz was electric, and for a day or two, the newspapers would write, “Bangalore a mecca for Rock music in India?” At Palace Grounds, dreams were tuned, tested, and turned up to full volume. People flew in from everywhere: some for their first concert, some for the one they had waited their whole lives to see. The memories belonged not just to the musicians but to the ones drenched in sweat, standing in endless lines, wearing black tees.
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If music was the city’s heartbeat, theatre was its pause. For theatre shows, Chowdiah Memorial Hall and Ranga Shankara were the place to be; for classical music, the Bangalore Gayana Samaj was home. City festivals took the city by storm, too. Jazz at UB City amphitheatre, gallery trails at Karnataka Chitrakala Parishad, and so much more! It wasn’t only in music and art that people found their rhythm, but also in cultural festivals like Karaga and Kadlekai Parishe, which brought people together.
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Ranga Shankara itself was a dream made solid, born from Shankar Nag and Arundathi Nag, for a vision of a space where theatre in every language could breathe freely. As the stage lights brightened across the city, artists like Ananth Nag, Girish Karnad, B.V. Karanth, and Prakash Belavadi emerged as cultural touchstones.
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And in between all this, there were the cafés – The constants that have stayed with us, unchanged to this day. The tangible memories remain in the food, flavour, and festivals. Late-night ice cream before the era of “iconic” dessert chains meant Amrith, Lakeview, or Richie Rich. They still serve unique flavours – Manoranjini, Elvis Bley, Triveni, Rajbhog. 
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The Thindi culture isn’t recent; it’s always existed. Sunday breakfast, while discussing the state of affairs, comes naturally to us. First dates unfolded at Casa Piccola or Pavithra Paradise. Green Onion was beloved not just for its Chinese food but as the perfect pre-booze pit stop. And Kabab Korner - etched permanently into rainy-night nostalgia, had its own style: a plank balanced on the car windows as a table, the city huddled around plates of the best chilli chicken.
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The intangible was everything else: the way it held you, the way it remembered you, the way it never let go. Because at its core, Bengaluru has always been a place where concerts rang loud, curtains fell, and cafés stitched our days together.

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If this reminds you of your own sweet Bengaluru,  a café evening, a concert night, a fleeting moment you still hold close,  send us that memory.

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