One familiar diaspora habit is defending home in rooms where nobody even asked for the comparison.
People from Bathinda keep explaining why the food mattered, why the mood was different, why the roads felt a certain way, or why local humor refuses to flatten properly.
It is not always nostalgia.
Sometimes it is maintenance.
A way of keeping the city textured and alive while living elsewhere.
Distance does not erase attachment. It often sharpens it.
What part of Bathinda do you still end up defending automatically?
