The Great Bengaluru Food Illusion

Bengaluru has been silently suffering from a phenomenon that’s as troubling as the city’s notorious traffic. It is none other than the infamously trending Instagram-worthy restaurant recommendations. You know them well. They subtly turn up on your feed: the same pastel colors, impossibly lush greenery, neon signs with questionable puns, and themes so meticulously crafted one could mistake it for a movie set! Every single corner is designed for a picture, every frame just screams “click me" with its perfect lighting, curated props, and artfully disheveled decor. The only crucial ingredient often missing from this perfectly plated experience? Good food.

And yet, people flock here. They line up like they found an oasis in the middle of a desert, just to snag a table. We're talking places like Oia, Big Brewsky, Magnolia, Subko Coffee - names that dominate your daily social media scroll. The hype is dangerously real. Why? Because the internet says so, apparently.

You'll see it everywhere. Pictures of aesthetically pleasing mocktails that taste like flavored sugar water. Platters of ‘artisan’ fusion food that look like abstract art but leave your taste buds utterly disappointed. Yet, the likes pour in. People are literally queuing, sometimes for hours, for the chance to dine here. And then there’s the subtle art of the ‘faux diner’. These are the folks who, perhaps, can't quite afford the bill, but will stand outside, snap a few strategic clicks with the restaurant's signature backdrop, tag the place, and curate an online illusion that they, too, are having the time of their lives inside.

But seriously, why?

Why do we do this? Because we desperately want others to see us having the time of our lives, partying in trendy, happening places. Because we see everyone else doing it and putting it online, creating a self-perpetuating cycle of FOMO. Because, deep down, we think if we don't partake, others will assume we're not ‘making it’. That our lives aren't as fabulous as theirs.

Again, why does any of that matter? Why do we care so much about what others think?

Because beneath all the filters and carefully crafted captions, we're still just social animals wired for external validation. We crave to be liked. We want others to like us, to approve of our choices, to acknowledge our existence in this crowded, performative digital world. Even if it means pretending that bland pasta tasted like pure joy, or that the perfectly symmetrical matcha latte justified an hour's wait and a hefty 400-rupee dent in your wallet.

In Bengaluru, it seems, the most satisfying meal isn't on the plate, but in the likes now. Because let's be honest, that perfectly good filter coffee from your humble steel tumbler just isn't making it onto anyone's feed when an artisanal beanery exists, ready to burn a hole in your wallet and star on your Instagram.