Finding Your People in Gurgaon

 In a city full of people chasing something, the best thing you can find is someone who makes the chase feel a little less lonely.

Walk into any college cafeteria or office building in Gurgaon and you’ll hear it: someone arguing that their hometown has the best street food, someone else explaining a festival to a friend who’s never heard of it, three different languages at one table. Everyone here came from somewhere else. Some came for college, some for a job, some just for a shot at a different life. And somewhere in the middle of all that, friendships start happening.

It doesn’t feel easy at the start, though.

For some people, moving here is the first taste of independence. For others, it’s the first time living away from family, and it hits harder than they expected. Some of us already knowing a couple of people. Others walk into a new classroom and just hope someone talks to them. In the beginning, all the differences feel loud. You wonder if you’ll fit in, if anyone will get your jokes, if there’s even one person here who likes the same things you do.

For me, the answer came during a college icebreaker session, the kind of activity everyone pretends to be thrilled about. I wasn’t expecting much. But somewhere between the awkward introductions, we started talking about songs, and we just didn’t stop. It was random and completely unplanned, and it turned into the friendship I’m most grateful for here.

That’s the thing: you don’t need the same story as someone to end up in theirs. Sometimes it’s just one conversation that runs longer than either of you planned.

Honestly, nobody has figured out how friendship works. The person you wrote off as “not my type of people” can turn into your ride or die. It can start with a song, or with complaining about the mess food. Small stuff like that makes a new city a lot more fun, and a lot easier to live in.

Even deciding where to meet becomes part of the friendship. Café or mall? Which food place? Who’s too far, and is anyone actually willing to travel that long in Gurgaon traffic? It sounds boring, but those little negotiations turn into memories, and the memories slowly turn strangers into familiar faces.

Your closest friend doesn’t have to be from your city or your school. They might have grown up on the other side of the country. It’s strange to look back and realise that someone who wasn’t in your life a year ago is now the person you can’t imagine getting through the week without. I owe Gurgaon for that. It gave me my survival kit.

Of course, it isn’t all smooth. People have different opinions, habits, boundaries, and expectations, and there will be misunderstandings and days when you just can’t see eye to eye. But being close to someone doesn’t mean agreeing on everything. It means respecting them even when you see things differently.

College, work, convenience, or plain circumstance might be what puts us in the same city. What keeps us together is the shared experiences, the understanding, and the jokes that still make you laugh months later. Finding good friends is a bit like finding yourself, because you’re really looking for the people you don’t have to pretend around.

In a city full of different stories, the best thing I found here wasn’t a new place or a new opportunity.

It was the people who made me glad I came.

-Dhiya

Gurgaon Before the Glass Towers: The City We Almost Forgot

Before Cyber City, there were village lanes. Before luxury high-rises, there were agricultural fields. And before Gurgaon became a symbol of corporate India, it had a life of its own. Imagine a Gurgaon without endless skyscrapers, traffic jams and glowing office buildings, where fields stretched across the landscape, narrow roads connected village homes, and local markets were places where people knew their shopkeepers by name. This was a very different Gurgaon from the one we recognise today.

The area that is now Gurugram has deep roots in rural Haryana. Long before large corporations and modern residential developments arrived, its villages, traditional communities and agricultural economy shaped everyday life. Gurgaon did not begin with its office parks; it grew around communities that had existed for generations. Its transformation accelerated as Delhi expanded and businesses began looking beyond the capital for space to grow. Improved connectivity, real estate development and the growth of the private sector gradually turned Gurgaon into a major corporate and residential destination. The arrival of modern business districts brought new employment opportunities, infrastructure and people from across India, transforming not just the city’s skyline but also the way people worked, travelled, lived and imagined their futures.

Yet, beneath the glass façades and high-rise buildings, traces of the older Gurgaon still remain. Traditional markets, village neighbourhoods and local eateries preserve parts of the city’s earlier identity. The language, food, customs and everyday lives of its long-time residents tell a story that cannot be captured in a photograph of a skyscraper. There is an interesting contrast at the heart of modern Gurgaon: one side is defined by corporate offices, gated communities and global brands, while the other continues to be shaped by village traditions, family-run businesses, local markets and neighbourhood relationships. Neither tells the whole story on its own. To understand Gurgaon, we must look at both the city it was and the city it is becoming.

As Gurgaon continues to expand, it becomes easy to overlook the people and places that existed long before redevelopment. Documenting local histories, preserving heritage and listening to long-time residents can help us understand what urban growth means beyond economic statistics and impressive skylines. The question is not whether Gurgaon should change, because cities inevitably do. The real question is whether, while building its future, Gurgaon can retain a connection to its past. After all, before Gurgaon became a skyline, it was someone’s home.

-Kimaya

Chai Tapri;Where Every Chai Comes with a Conversation

In a city known for its bougie cafés, towering skyscrapers, corporate life, and hustle culture, I find that chai tapris have the best conversations.

Imagine walking into a random chai tapri at six in the morning. Before your chai even reaches you, you would have heard six different political opinions, starting with the Mosquito Janata Party, and seven different recommendations on how to fix the country's economy. By the time you finish your chai, you've been pulled into a conversation, and by the end of it, you either feel educated or face an existential crisis.

Now imagine the evening. You've just come down from your demanding corporate job, sometime around four or later, and all you want is a cup of chai, perhaps a biscuit, and a moment to think about your life choices. But before you can even finish your chai, you're pulled into another conversation. Someone is ranting about how ridiculous their boss is, someone else is explaining how they had to skip lunch to finish a pile of work the size of a skyscraper in Sector 37, and another person is talking about quitting their job to build a startup, which everyone knows isn't happening anytime soon.

By the time I get into the lift and head back to my demanding job, I have even more life choices to ponder.

But somewhere between all the existential crises and endless pondering, it is the beauty of human connection that keeps me going.

Chai tapris are places where people aren't scrolling through Instagram, Facebook, or the latest obsession, Substack. Instead, they're there for fifteen minutes of human interaction, a little break from the world, and perhaps a cup of chai. So they start talking about random things: politics, religion, work, life, and everything in between. Somehow, people join in, adding their opinions and stories without turning every conversation into an argument or a formal debate.

Slowly, these conversations become an accepted part of your day. You find yourself returning to the same tapri, again and again. The people who once seemed like complete strangers start becoming familiar faces. You recognise them, exchange a few words, hear about their lives, and share a little of your own.

Before you know it, these people are no longer random strangers. They have become a small but meaningful part of your everyday story.

And honestly, isn't that beautiful?

-Rithvika

The Unexpected quiet side of Gurgaon

When you think of Gurgaon you think about the tall glass buildings reaching for the sky, endless construction, crowded roads and a life where everyone always seems to be in a rush. The infamous hustle culture and everyone just trying to make their name in the big city. It’s a city where time seems to be moving faster and where things need to happen right now. 

But somewhere beyond all that noise, there is also a city that is calm and quiet, there is another side that doesn’t demand your attention. The one that gives comfort and reassurance to those who need it but we rarely stop to search for it due to the busy courses of our lives. The small green patches in the parks, the quiet roads between the buildings, that one terrace with the best wind and an even better view and the small moments where the city seems to pause just long enough for you to be able to catch your breath. 

Places such as the Aravalli Biodiversity Park opens up a new perspective to Gurgaon, with its nature trails and long stretches of greenery that helps you disconnect from the busy life and connect with the peace within yourself. One thing that most people tend to forget living in a happening city like Gurgaon is that you don’t always have to be productive. It is very important to let go of your phone and your responsibilities for just sometime and take a walk in the most serene places of the city like the Leisure Valley Park. It offers you a place to walk, sit and just enjoy some time to yourself away from your commitments. If you look beyond the sky scrapers, Gurgaon also has the room for a slower kind of life, where you don’t always have to worry about meeting your deadlines. It is very important to take a step back and enjoy life, to feel the nature and the beauty that the city has to offer. Sitting and listening to music, or sketching down the greenery in the book that once used to be your treasured possession but which was slowly forgotten because of the fast paced life. The Sultanpur National Park lying a little outside Central Gurgaon is the perfect place for people who love birdwatching or just for those who enjoy discovering the beauty of the other side. 

These places may not change the way the city moves but it can definitely change the way that you experience it. We always look at what the city is offering in terms of jobs, lifestyle and entertainment but it is also equally important to notice what it offers us when we aren’t  asking for it. The quiet side of Gurgaon is not hidden, it is just the effort we put into discovering that side of the city. It is a reminder that in a city that never seems to slow down, we can choose to slow down ourselves. -Dhiya

The Colour of Home

I went in for the Wi-Fi. I stayed because of a seven-year-old with a croissant.

It was a Saturday, and I had claimed the corner table, like usual, with the confidence of someone who had a deadline and no plan. Two tables away, a mother and her daughter sat down with the kind of seriousness usually reserved for board meetings. The girl had a small notebook. The mother had her phone face down on the table.

“Okay,” the girl said. “Today I’m the interviewer.”

“And I’m?”

“The person being interviewed. Obviously.”

I pretended to type. I did not type.

The first question was, “What is your favourite colour and why?” The mother said yellow, because it reminded her of the kitchen in her old house. The girl wrote this down very slowly, tongue between her teeth, and then asked, “Why did you leave the house?” The mother paused, then said, “We moved for work, beta. Papa’s job, and then mine.” The girl nodded like a tiny journalist who had heard this excuse before. “Do you miss it?” “Sometimes. Mostly the yellow kitchen.”

The questions got better. “What are you scared of?” The mother said, “Being late for you.” The girl stopped writing. She looked up, then reached across and patted her mother’s hand twice, the way adults pat children, and said, “That’s okay. I’m patient.” The mother laughed so suddenly she had to cover her mouth. So did I, into my laptop, which was unfortunate for the person on my video call who had just asked me something about quarterly numbers.

The interview ended, as all good interviews do, with a snack negotiation. The girl wanted a second croissant. The mother said one was enough. The girl said, “Journalists need energy.” The mother, clearly defeated by excellent logic, went to the counter.

While she was gone, the girl turned to me. Children always notice when you’re watching. “Are you working?” she asked.

“Trying to,” I said.

“You should take a break. My mom says people who stare at screens forget to blink.”

I blinked, deliberately, and she looked satisfied.

When they left, the girl waved with her whole arm, and her mother mouthed a sorry that I waved off. The table was left with crumbs and one torn page from the notebook. I didn’t read it.

I closed my laptop. The deadline could wait for my evening shift.

Outside, I stood by the traffic and did something I hadn’t done in months. I called my mother in Bangalore, at an hour when I’d usually text.

“Is something wrong?” she said, the way she always does when I call without a reason.

“No. I just wanted to ask you something. What’s your favourite colour?”

A long pause. The kind where I could hear the television in the background being muted.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“It’s an interview.”

She laughed, and then she went quiet, and then she said, “Pink. The pink flowers that used to fall in front of our house in Bangalore. I used to sweep them up every morning and wish they’d stay. Why did I never tell you that?” 

“I don’t know,” I said. “Tell me now.”

So she did, and I walked all the way home without noticing the traffic.

- Miriam

Spotify Presents: Gurgaon ki Dhun

There are songs that remind me of a person, a particular summer, or a late night conversation. And then there are songs that remind me of the cities I've been to. Like the song Aaj Kal Zindagi from Wake Up Sid reminds me of the time I spent in Chennai for my internship. Patakha Guddi was the song I played on loop during my solo trip to Kashmir. Desi Girl from Dostana takes me back to Kolkata, to the time I was blasting it in my friend’s room.  But Gurgaon is a place that can't be reduced to one single song.

It has dusty roads and shiny buildings, crowded markets and empty highways, chai at a tapri and overpriced coffee in an aesthetic cafe. So naturally, its playlist cannot belong to just one genre either. So here are some songs that take me back to Gurgaon.

Ilahi from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani.

This is for the Gurgaon that you see from a car window.

The song makes me think of driving down the expressway with the city changing around you. Tall buildings disappear behind you, open roads appear, and for a few minutes you forget how much traffic you complained about five minutes ago.

There is something about Gurgaon that makes you want to keep moving. Maybe it is the constant construction, the new cafés, the new offices, or simply the feeling that the city is never finished becoming something else.

Kho Gaye Hum Kahan from Baar Baar Dekho.

This is Gurgaon after 10 p.m.

The office crowd has gone home, but the city is still awake. Friends are sitting in cars outside cafe's, scrolling through their phones, talking about jobs, relationships, money and what they are supposed to be doing with their lives.

The song captures the quieter side of a city that is usually associated with ambition. Everyone here seems to be running towards something, but sometimes you wonder if anyone knows exactly where they are going.

Party On My Mind from Race 2.

This song is probably the most obvious Gurgaon choice. It reminds me of Friday nights when the city seems to switch personalities. Office clothes turn into party outfits and the traffic we despise somehow becomes part of the plan. Everyone heads towards a club, a rooftop or some late night food spot. The song feels like Gurgaon after dark,young, restless and plans that always turn into “one more place.”

And finally, there is Safarnama from Tamasha.

Not because Gurgaon feels peaceful, it absolutely does not, but because it reminds me of watching the city go by without really knowing what comes next.

Maybe that is what I like about Gurgaon. It is difficult to put into one song because it refuses to be one thing. It is loud and quiet, old and new, exhausting and exciting. It can frustrate you in the afternoon and make you want to go out again by evening.

So if someone asked me what Gurgaon sounds like, I wouldn't give them one song.

I'd give them a playlist.

-Pranaya

The Autorickshaw Story

Dear Gurgaon,

The auto-waala didn’t ask where I was going. He asked where I was from.

“Chennai,” I said, climbing in, and he laughed like I’d told him a joke. “Then you’ve seen a real city. Let’s see if I can change your mind about this one.”

He had assumed I wasn’t quite fitting in yet. I did look confused when I got into the auto. I thought to myself, “Rude. Also, kind of fair, actually.”

His name was Ramesh, and he’d been driving these roads for 22 years. He came here from a village near Rewari with one bag and a cousin’s phone number. He said the cousin’s number was wrong, but he found his way anyway. I got in with the usual plan of saying a destination and looking at Instagram. But he asked how long I’d been in the city, and somehow that was the end of the phone.

I always thought of you as a young city, all glass and office lights and people who say “let’s go to viral spots.” Ramesh didn’t see you that way. He remembered when the stretch where the malls stand now was nothing but mustard fields, and said it vanished so slowly that one day he simply looked up and the fields were gone. Listening to him, I realised you have a past most of us never ask about. He said it quietly, the way you’d talk about a relative’s old house. He wasn’t complaining, just remembering what once was.

I went and looked the city up properly after the ride, because I can’t leave a good story alone. Your name is said to come from Guru Dronacharya, the teacher of the Pandavas and Kauravas, who according to legend was gifted this land in return for his teaching. You were officially renamed Gurugram in 2016, but every driver I’ve met still says Gurgaon. Ramesh said the new name is “for the papers” and the old one is “for the people.”

What got me was how he talked about Gurgaon. Proud, a little confused, and still so fond. Like the city had grown up too fast and he was still catching up. When I asked what he’d miss if he ever left, he thought for a full minute and said, “the evenings.”

The ride was short. As I got off, he told me to keep my bag in front of me and to eat something proper before sunset, “because the city looks nicer on a full stomach.” I paid, said thank you, and stood there for a bit while the sky did its evening thing over the towers.

He was right. It did look nicer.

I came in thinking you were a place to get through, a place to work in. I’m leaving thinking you’re a place with people who have been carrying you around long before the rest of us showed up.

So thanks, Gurgaon. And thanks, Ramesh.

Love,
Natasha

Dear Gurgaon, you have a past too!

Dear Gurgaon,

Coming from a Maharashtrian family, all I had ever heard about were Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, Shri Tulja Bhavani Temple, Ganesh Chaturthi, and the Mahabharat, which has always fascinated me. Yet, despite growing up in Gurgaon, I never truly realised that the city's name was rooted in the story of Guru Dronacharya. Yes, the great teacher himself!

According to legend, a piece of land was gifted to Guru Dronacharya by the eldest of the Pandavas as gurudakshina, an offering of gratitude to their teacher for imparting the knowledge of warfare and the lessons of life to both the Pandavas and the Kauravas. Since Guru Dronacharya lived here, the place came to be known as Guru Ka Gaon, which eventually evolved into Gurugram and, later, Gurgaon.

Although the city's official name is now Gurugram, many people still affectionately call it Gurgaon, much like how Bangaloreans continue to use the name Bangalore instead of Bengaluru.

Amidst the fancy skyscrapers, bustling streets, and corporate offices, Gurgaon is home to several historic sites associated with the legends of the Mahabharat. Take Khandsa village in Sector 37, for instance, which locals believe to be the place where Ekalavya cut off his thumb and offered it to Dronacharya as gurudakshina. Then there's the Dronacharya Temple, one of the rare temples in India dedicated to the great teacher himself, and Bhima Kund, a pond believed to be associated with Guru Dronacharya. I guess it was a time when stalking culture was allowed!

And finally, the most famous of them all: Sheetla Mata Temple, which attracts thousands of devotees every year. The temple is associated with Kripi, also known as Kriparani or Kripa in some local retellings, the wife of Guru Dronacharya. According to local traditions, she devoted her life to caring for children suffering from smallpox. After her death, a temple was established in her memory, and to this day, Sheetla Mata remains one of the most revered goddesses in the region.

Isn't that beautiful?

A city known for its towering skyscrapers, hustle culture, chai tapris, and breathtaking skies has a past that stretches far beyond its modern identity. Beneath all the urban chaos lies a world of legends, faith, and history that connects Gurgaon to one of India's greatest epics.

Perhaps that's what makes this city so special. It's not just a place where people come to build careers, chase dreams, or survive the daily traffic. It's also a place where stories from thousands of years ago continue to live on through temples, traditions, and the beliefs of its people.

So, the next time you pass through Gurgaon remember that it's a city where the ancient and the modern coexist, where mythology meets everyday life, and where every corner might have a story waiting to be discovered.

-Rithvika

Finding home away from home!

At 18, moving to Gurgaon to call it home after living all my life in Chennai was nothing less than a scary experience. As I was boarding my flight to Delhi so many thoughts ran through my head, “will I be able to make friends in a new city?”, “can I handle things without my family?”, “will I be treated differently by people because I am from the south”. But when I entered Gurgaon for the first time, I was amazed by the tall beautiful buildings that decorated the roads. As an aspiring entrepreneur and business student I was completely in awe looking at all the companies I had only dreamed of, ranging from BMW to Deloitte, all just right in front of my eyes as I travelled along the city to my hostel. 

For someone obsessed with cars, Gurgaon is like a dreamland, with expensive supercars strutting down the road as if it were a normal affair. They say that you are the product of the people you surround yourself with, and Gurgaon is filled with great minds and successful individuals. Slowly my mindset started shifting in order to think the way they do and reach the levels that they did. Once my classes started, I realised that there were a lot of local students and I was beyond nervous to see how they would treat me. But contrary to my assumptions, the people were as amazing as the city, very sweet and friendly. More than half of my closest friends are natives to the place and I am really glad that I found them. 

But one thing that Gurgaon can never replace in my heart is the food. Don’t get me wrong, Gurgaon has amazing food spots, whether you go to Galleria or 32nd Avenue, it not only gives you delicious meals but also a great ambience to enjoy the meal in. But my mother’s crispy dosa will always hold a special place in my heart and nothing can ever compare to it. Something that made me fall deeper in love with the city was it’s weather. Having lived in the South, I had only known what summers were but Gurgaon showed me what a real winter feels like. And let me tell you it is definitely not like putting only the AC, with the fan turned off  while sleeping during the Chennai winters. It took me by shock but as a person who loves eating ice cream when it is freezing, I loved it. 

Now, after spending 3 years in Gurgaon I can finally say that my heart belongs to the city. It has moulded me into the individual I am today, helping me face the real world in the big city. All my fears of people, goals, and life in general were removed and the city welcomed me with open hands. Gurgaon has my heart and it can never be forgotten.

-Dhiya

Gurgaon: A City of Contradictions

The first thing you notice about Gurgaon is that it does not look like it is trying to impress you. It just does.

One minute, you are stuck behind an auto on a dusty road. The next, you are staring up at glass towers that look like they belong in Singapore. And only a few kilometres away, someone at a small tapri will be selling chai surrounded by people from diverse backgrounds. Old uncles would be sipping piping hot chai while gossiping about current affairs, all while a corporate employee in a perfectly ironed shirt is rushing past with a laptop bag and a coffee in one hand and attending a call from another.

Welcome to Gurgaon.

Or, as the government would like us to call it, Gurugram.

But honestly, ask anyone who lives here what they call it, and chances are they will still say “Gurgaon.”

Gurgaon is a city of extremes. One Google search will tell you that it is a major financial, industrial, and technology hub located in North India. But what it won’t tell you is that it took just a few decades to transform from a relatively small town to what it is today. Its skyline is packed with offices, luxury apartments, malls and business districts, with DLF Cyber City located in the heart of the place.

But the number of buildings is not the impressive part.

You fall in love with the city at the crack of dawn, looking at the purple-pink skies. Then at 9 a.m., when the roads are packed with people heading to work. You feel the city fever when it comes alive at 7 p.m., when corporate hustlers become cafe goers, and Cyber Hub starts filling up with groups of friends deciding where to eat. And then you come across a completely different Gurgaon at 2 a.m., because this is a city that seems to have forgotten that it is supposed to sleep at one point.

There are different layers to this city. And as you peel through the layers, you’ll find out that each one is as thrilling as the last.

There is a strange feeling in watching Gurgaon transition from day to night. During the day, everything feels like a race, with all the meetings, traffic, deadlines, deliveries, calls. But as the sun goes down, the city seems to change its personality. Office buildings light up, restaurants get louder, and suddenly everyone seems to have somewhere to be.

Perhaps that is the beauty of Gurgaon. No matter how long you have lived here, there is always another layer waiting to be discovered .

-Garima