I’m itching to write, but words fall short. There’s a surfeit of emotion, at leaving things behind, at coming home. At finding everything changed, and yet the same. There’s much to think, feel and absorb. There are times when I think I need to learn new ways, or atleast unlearn some ways.

The impression Bombay, or maybe India, makes on you during brief vacations is vastly different from the impression it makes when you are back. For good. My eyes traverse the clock, figuring out the time back home over in the US, imagining who must be doing what. Already, I have slipped into the skin of the Mumbaikar; eating chaat, running behind buses, crossing roads while dodging traffic. I don’t know whether to be happy or appalled at it all coming back so easily. In a way, it’s like I was never away. The last three years never happened, though I know they did.

And I start work from Monday. Please, pray for me.

Rambling of this sort may be induced by either deliriousness or jet-lag. In either case, bear with me.

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