“I was born in Chennai, but growing up, home kept changing.
Because of my dad’s work, I studied in nine different schools and lived across seven cities, picking up close to five languages along the way. I was never a nomad by choice, but life shaped me into one. Hi, I’m Rohit.
Growing up this way gave me two very different gifts. One was people. Everywhere I went, I found kindness, friendships, and warmth. The other was the constant act of letting go. I never had the luxury of growing up with the same group of friends year after year. Every phase came with its own people and then another move, another goodbye, another restart.
For the longest time, I thought this was just how life was meant to be.
Covid changed something in me. Being forced to slow down created a deep longing to reconnect with people who once mattered so much. I reached out to childhood friends, old classmates, and people I had not spoken to in years. What surprised me was how easily those bonds came back. It felt like time had paused and waited for us to return.
If there is one constant in my life, it has always been people. Every milestone, every lesson, every version of who I am today exists because of them. My identity has never been defined by the cities I lived in or the roles I took up professionally. It has always been defined by the people I met and grew with.
One moment from 2010 changed how I look at life, even if I did not realise it immediately.
I was observing a few cricketers at a practice when I was hit badly on my shin by a ball. Around that time, a recently risen international cricketer noticed what had happened. On his way back, he overtook our vehicle, stepped out, and personally checked if I was okay. There were no cameras, no crowds, and no obligation for him to do that. But he did.
That moment stayed with me. It showed me what humility and genuine care can look like when no one is watching. Over the years, I have seen him become one of the most misunderstood public figures, often judged through narratives that do not reflect who he truly is. Yet he continues to live by a belief that quietly shaped me too. Love to all, more to life.
That line became my personal motto. Religion, caste, and labels have never mattered to me as much as intent, emotion, and kindness. Some people resonate with that outlook, some do not. I have learnt to be at peace with that. For me, people will always matter more than the boxes they are placed into.
Every city I have lived in gave me something. Pondicherry taught me innocent mischief. Coimbatore gave me comfort and calm. Hyderabad strengthened me mentally. Mumbai gave me pace and heartbeat. Milan and Düsseldorf showed me a different way of living, with less shame and more celebration.
But Madras gave me something I did not even know I was searching for.
It gave me the feeling of coming home.
When I moved back to Chennai in 2023 for work in product marketing, it felt like meeting an old love unexpectedly. Familiar, yet changed. The Madras I once knew had evolved, and this newer version welcomed me back quietly, without fuss.
Chennai refuses to be one thing. It gives you peaceful beaches and strong life lessons in the same breath. It has some of the most knowledgeable sporting crowds and some of the most passionate cinema fans who treat first day first shows like festivals. When celebrations arrive, the entire city participates with a shared emotion that is hard to put into words. And yes, the Thala versus Thalapathy debate is never ending. I know where I stand.
For me, Chennai lives in small rituals. First day first shows at Rohini. Popcorn at Sathyam. A matcha at Eventide. Jug Head stops at Fruit Shop on Greams road. A pint at Watson’s. Watching matches at Chepauk. Weekend leather ball cricket. Weekday pickleball with colleagues. Shawarma at Al Arabian. Late night rides on ECR just to clear my head.
One of the things I love most about Chennai is how it balances scale with simplicity. No matter how far you travel within the city, you somehow find your way back home within an hour. I often joke with my friends in Mumbai that the best thing about Mumbai is that it has flights and trains to Chennai.
Chennai does not make loud promises of happiness. It quietly gives you contentment, and that feeling stays.
Vandhaarai Vaazha Vaikkum Chennai.
Love to all. More to life.”