Bangalore rocks, people.

I love the place. It's got pretty babes, Pecos, and my home out here has already turned into a place full of memories.

But ladies and ledas, me be from Pune, thankoo very much.

Home, no matter how you cut it, is home.

And true to form, it's the small memories that bite the most.

Forgive the senti-giri. It's nearing midnight in office and I'm the only warrior left on the floor. And no matter how many plaques and certificates you get, the stare of complete bemusement that the security guy gives you when he walks by to close the lights kinda puts everything in perspective.

"Now there", you can hear him thinking,"there sits a guy who's got 'Status: Single' written all over him"

Of course, he's thinking this in Kannada, but language is communication, no?

And then you remember those times back in Pune when midnight was a lot more fun than it is now.

OK, not that much fun, you little pervert, but fun anyhow.

And the image that comes to mind is Binoy's living room at midnight, with dinner done (bless you Aunty), and a Champion's League game to follow. But I jump ahead of myself.

Binoy Oommen, people, is the oldest BBKTK I have. Although for the first couple of years, he was anything but. More like a BBKTNK, if you know what I mean.

But to cut a long story short, over the years, bhaisaab is the closest buddy I've had.

And although the buddyness is based on a lot many things, one of the most important ingredients happens to be a complete agreement over one thing.

Laziness is to the good.

We'd evolved this system where we would spend entire days lounging over at either his place or mine, until the respective mother grew exasperated and dropped broad hints about how there was indeed, a world outside. At the precise point when the hints stopped and the broom came out, we'd head out over, sit on the bike and go over to the other home.

Process repeat.

A typical day would consist principally of one thing, around which all other (shudder) activities (no seriously... there's something repugnant about that word, no?... say it out aloud.... activity.... yuck) were scheduled.

Sleep.

So we'd get up by around 11, and watch T.V until we were too hungry to ignore the hunger.

And if we were at Binoy's place, that would mean a trip to Mal Tup. For those not in the know, kindly ignore, and remain puzzled while those in the know draw in breath reverently.

Saliva over-production types se hai, no?

And then sleep.

In the evening, we'd go out for a game of football, or maybe tennis, or maybe a swim. Not because we wanted to and all, but dinner's got to be done justice to, no?

And then the resident sorcerer at the man's place would conjure up chicken curry, beef cutlets, hot rice and the most incredible dal fry, ghee and (sigh!) pickles.

And then two extremely indolent buggers would settle back on the sofas and watch TV.

You know, Champions League matches begin at around 1.30 or so, India time. And while at Binoy's place, I've never seen one.

Fast asleep, every time.

No re, you idiot.

That's a good thing.