05-05-2025
Bengaluru man's emotional post on Jayanagar's lost soul sparks citywide nostalgia. Netizens pour out their pain
In a city constantly rebranding itself as India's Silicon Valley, what gets lost in the buzz of cafes, start-ups, and soaring skylines? Sometimes, it's the soul of a neighbourhood. That's exactly what one
Bengaluru
resident sought to capture in a heartfelt, no-frills post that is now echoing across the city like a collective sigh.
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On May 2, Rohith Simha, a long-time resident of Jayanagar, took to X (formerly Twitter) to share his grief—not over a person or an event, but a place. A place he once called peaceful, orderly, and deeply personal. 'Once a calm and peaceful residential area,
Jayanagar
has turned into a busy, noisy, and dusty commercial hub,' he wrote. 'Forefathers did everything to ensure quality of life, but subsequent generations went behind money and sold it to real estate, who further made those not willing also to sell.'
What might have been another passing tweet turned viral for one reason: it wasn't just about Jayanagar. It was a mirror. And everyone saw their neighbourhood in it.
— rohith_simha (@rohith_simha)
'We're All Watching Our Homes Disappear'
Simha's post struck a deep, emotional chord with hundreds of residents and social media users, sparking a flurry of responses from those who grew up in other iconic Bengaluru localities—Vijayanagara, RPC Layout, Chandra Layout. The grief was collective, and so was the helplessness.
'Every second plot now has a multi-storied paying guest structure violating every norm while BBMP looks the other way,' one user lamented, calling Bengaluru the 'PG capital of the world.'
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— IndiaUnfolding (@IndiaUnfolding)
Another recalled how massive homes that once housed families and flowering gardens have turned into guest accommodations with overloaded sewage and water systems, crumbling under the weight of sudden densification. 'People are getting old and not able to adjust with this type of commercial activity,' the comment read, painting a poignant picture of ageing residents stuck in rapidly changing surroundings.
For many, Jayanagar's quiet lanes and flowering trees were not just aesthetic—it was a way of life. A deliberate one. The kind where neighbours greeted each other by name, the air smelled of jasmine, and the silence after dusk wasn't interrupted by honks and halogen signage. That Bangalore, they say, is now a memory.
The Disappearing Homes of Generations
Many commenters were particularly struck by Simha's note on
inherited homes
. 'Houses with courtyards are being demolished or modified for more floors,' one user wrote. 'Generations that inherited these homes are going to court to sell them, and open spaces are vanishing.'
What was once a carefully planned, community-centric neighbourhood has now become a developer's dream and a planner's nightmare. The cultural and architectural ethos that defined old Bengaluru is being replaced, floor by floor, with the glass and concrete symbols of unchecked growth.
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'Jayanagar is the next Chickpete in the making,' one user declared, ominously predicting that the area would be fully commercialised within the next decade. And many agree. Others placed blame on a systemic failure—'In the name of development, total commercialisation has taken place. Our country isn't planned like Europe or China. It will take three more generations to reverse this.'
— IAM_RShariff (@IAM_RShariff)
A City in Reflection
Rohith Simha's emotional tweet has done more than spark
nostalgia
. It has exposed a silent but shared grief—a feeling of being exiled within your own city. It has forced a city of nine million to ask: what are we really building? And at what cost?
Whether Jayanagar becomes another commercial corridor or finds a way to preserve its roots remains to be seen. But what's clear now is that amid the race for space and profit, the people of Bengaluru haven't forgotten the homes they once knew. And perhaps, they never will.
