The charms of Bangalore and Poona were weighed by our parents when they were making their retirement plans — and everyone had a story to tell. Eventually, there was a toss-up between the two cities: Bangalore scored for its climate and its greenery, but lost out on language (none of us knew Kannada) and proximity to the rest of the family, which was concentrated around Bombay (now Mumbai) and Goa.

I was in my early teens at the time and the discussions and the stories didn’t touch me. Climate, location and greenery were just about the last things I found attractive. In any case, as far as I was concerned, having lived the major portion of my life until then in the capital of the country, I could not imagine settling for anything other than the limitless opportunities that Delhi presented.

Years later, after my parents settled in Pune and I went with them, my first job took me to Bangalore. I was apprehensive about leaving home, but more about how I would manage in a hostel than about the place. However, within a week or less, I had settled down happily with new friends and loads of information about places to go and things to do — and I fell in love with the city.

Of course, we did the craziest things there. (That’s what we’re meant to do at that stage of our lives, isn’t it?) What I recall best, more than anything I did on the job, was how we went down the road dressed in the weirdest outfits imaginable (somebody’s kurta and shoes mismatched with somebody else’s skirt and hat) just to see if we had the courage to do it. It helped that we did most of this at night, when we could get a wonderful cup of filter coffee and Bangalore’s signature Japanese cakes at the petrol station nearby — and we hoped that no one we knew would be around to laugh out loud at our ridiculous attire.

Early dinner

How we got out at night was part of the adventure: The rule that we were to be back in the hostel by 6:30 in the evening (or some such unreasonably early hour) was followed meticulously, and all of us were in by then. We also went by the book and had an early dinner.

And then we got our second wind and set out to be daring ...

Of course, we got into several scrapes — but we were usually let off with a mild admonition to be better behaved ... The people of the city seemed, to us, to be even-tempered and humorous. We were not attacked with sticks or herded back in disgrace to face hostel authorities.

These escapades, and many hours of walking around on my own, were repeated in Poona as well, with my next job. I never worried about lonely roads and who was hiding in the shadow of the trees in Cubbon Park or Empress Gardens or anywhere else.

Bangalore and Poona were safe cities — and so welcome after the many unsavoury encounters I’d had on the streets of Delhi. In time, of course, the names of Bangalore and Poona changed to Bengaluru and Pune, but they were still prized as safe havens and “pensioner friendly”. So, when we looked at places in the southern peninsula with a view to settle down, they were on the top of our list, along with Hyderabad, the laid back city with its unique ‘Nawabi’ culture.

All three figure on the list of the best cities in India, but like most other places, they are no longer quite as safe as they once were. We read about assaults, road rage attacks and violence ...

And I wonder: Where are those feel-good stories that we lived when we were younger?

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.