Back to Bombay...

Back to Bombay after three months of being away (I like Bombay better than Mumbai). I thought it would feel better. It didnt. The mosit humidity stung my senses harder than the burning desert heat I had left behind. It was dark and it was wet when I landed. The check-in luggage had not come in. My bags were still in Paris, and I was forced to leave the airport with a bitter taste of some strange insecurity still tingling on my toungue.

The rickshaw ride back home was the ride that made reality sink into my surreal perception of life. I was back in India now. The muck and the dirty roads, the drivers who would drive like barbarians, the slums, open garbage cans, all seemed to shoot into my eyes like the afternoon sunlight, and my eyes defenceless, with transparent eyelids.

I hadnt told anyone at home that I would be touching base, and Sheril, my real close buddy received me at the airport. The surprise that I gave my family in the wee hours of 29th July, will be etched in my memories, like sea of tranquility on the face of the moon. And my suprise at my perception and re-acceptance of the city of my birth would be right beside it. Now that I am getting back into the groove, life feels much better. Yes, ... much better.