India is like a great ocean liner that pitches and rolls precariously but never capsizes as it sails through tempests in which less stable craft would turn.
I do'nt miss things.I never do, I love my country, my people and my family in a way that no one else does. But I do'nt miss them, its an emotional investment that makes me unstable and unproductive.
But last Thursday, every happy, every sad, every naughty, every single memory of India came rushing back to me and I felt overwhelmed.
I do'nt blame anyone or talk about solutions, as I like most people, do'nt know shit about security systems or intelligence agencies. But what I do know is that my people have been killed and have been shown no mercy.Places in Bombay that I frequented, have been scarred forever.
But right now more than anytime else I want to be in Bombay, driving around Marine Drive listening to a AR Rahman track, all the while feeling the refreshing Bombay November breeze.And then end my journey with a Kingfisher at Leopold discussing Rene Descartes with that chick from Lyon.
But more than anything else I just wanted to be back home.
