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The Culture of Calm: A Late-Night Love Letter to Rajkot | A Little Culture with Anil – Episode 3

There’s a version of me that only existed in Rajkot—part engineering student, part accidental rule-breaker, part midnight foodie. I spent about three years there for college, and even though it wasn’t dramatic or life-changing in a movie kind of way, it quietly shaped me. Rajkot didn’t shout culture at me—it sort of whispered it in the spaces between naps, snacks, and streetlights.

At first, I was living in a PG with two other guys. One was doing Bachelor of Pharmacy, and the other was also in engineering. We got along well, until we didn’t—not with each other, but with the building management. See, we had this brilliant idea to play cricket in the parking area (as one does when you’re bored and 20), and apparently that’s not considered “respectful tenant behavior.” Long story short—we were told to leave. Not our proudest moment, but kind of iconic in hindsight.

So, the pharmacy guy and I shifted to a new place, and two more engineering students joined us there. Both of them were in the same class, and way more academically focused than I ever managed to be. I skipped classes with alarming confidence. These guys? Always studying, always solving something. But the setup worked. We all had different college timings, the bathroom situation was calm, and no one messed with anyone’s shampoo. For PG life, that’s pretty much a dream.

Now, about Rajkot.

This city runs on its own logic—one that tells you to stop everything between 1 PM and 4 PM. Shops close. The streets go eerily quiet. It’s not laziness, it’s intentional. People go home for lunch. They rest. The sun might be in attack mode, but the people? They’re chilling. No tiffins, no stress—just sabzi, roti, and maybe a nap if you’ve earned it (or even if you haven’t).

I tried going shopping once around 2 PM in peak summer. Bad idea. Felt like walking into a live oven while wearing disappointment.

Of course, with malls and supermarkets coming up, some shops have started staying open all day. Newer generation, new rules. Hustle culture is creeping in, but I kind of miss the old pause button that Rajkot used to hit every afternoon.

But where the city really comes alive is after dark.

We’d head out at 2 AM—yes, AM—on pure impulse. For fafda, gathiya, jalebi, and those golden fries that were just perfectly wrong in the best way. We’d sit on pavements, plates in hand, half-tired, fully happy. Talking about nothing and everything. Ranking snacks. Debating which stall made the crispiest gathiya like it was a matter of national importance.

There’s something about late-night food in a quiet city that hits differently. No distractions, no deadlines. Just food and friends and the occasional stray dog watching you like it wants your jalebi.

Rajkot taught me that culture doesn’t always arrive in costumes and festivals. Sometimes it looks like a closed shop in the afternoon and an open food cart at 2 AM. It looks like slow days and oily nights. And it somehow manages to feel like home, even when you're technically just a guest.

Rajkot. Where the sun naps, the people snack, and the best conversations happen on a sidewalk with something fried in your hand.

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