I am writing this from Bellagio, a town on the shores of Lake Como in Italy. It somehow reminds me of my home in Uttar Pradesh — a home which exists only in old family albums and the collective memories of our nuclear family. If you stayed on rent during your childhood, you might relate. Such people always struggle with the concept of “home”.

The alley on which my current quarters are — Salita Serbelloni — is quite like one of the gullies in our mohalla back in UP. “Salita” is Italian for “climb” — pretty basic. But, Gurgaon real estate developers will borrow such words to sell you expensive apartments in Wazirabad. Funnily, addresses in India tell you about our complex history, with our cities, streets, and lanes sometimes named after a Mughal general or an European coloniser or a Mahabharata character.

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Salita Serbelloni snakes through pastel, 18th-century houses, artisanal boutiques, and cafes; its unique stones are known to be very fertile for farming Instagram impressions. Luckily, there are enough stairs to deter casual tourists with three trolley bags. Hence, I didn’t have much trouble booking an apartment here. It’s like old Banaras, but with better garbage collection.........

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