Home, where the music's playing

its funny how much things change in a week. My folks say its like I never really left. I fit right back into the dal chawal, locked up in my room, ' i hate to park the car back in the driveway at night' self in a jiffy.


But this time the week gone by has been different. No so the content, but just the freshness of it. I left Singapore in two minds, trying hard to express my feelings openly, only to be shunned by a Busy signal on the other line. My sulking brooding self is put to rest only when i see two young men, dressed in their shiniest best, spiky hair and sunglasses et all. Its 7AM mind you, and by now im sure im heading right back to Dilli. inshallah

The flights a pain. Air India i wouldn't suggest again. The mid-air wobbles were hardly a deterrent for the 'mile high' kitty party the air hostess aunties had arranged at the back. 8 people in the entire flight, without video or entertainment and they still forget to serve me breakfast. Waving my hand for some attention, all i get are whispers of " kya Rashmi, tu bhi na. Sir ko khana bhi nahi diya" before breaking into an idiotic laughter. I wouldve strangled one of them but the pilot did mention that we needed all passengers on board, lest the plane lose its balance.

Not too bad im thinking, and after filling up the wrong immigration form (Air India again), getting a H1N1 screening done by a fake compounder at the airport, all i needed was to be harrowed by a friendly neighborhood cop. "Kyu gaye the Singapore?, laptop kitne hain? sach bolde beta laptop kitne hain andar? family ke liye laya hain na..." It was 42 degrees outside and i gave him the benefit of doubt.

But i digress. The point, as i started, was how comfortable i feel back home. I did of course transition myself back. Very nearly gave a S$ 10 note for a Rs.10 parking. Took Nan to Dilli Haat and attempted to explain why the momo's there are so darn spicy w/o tasting the least bit like thier older dumpling cousins. And the highlight - braved the darga at Nizzamuddin pretending to be a tourist while hearing the quwwali's live. This i hadn't done before, and it really did feel like an entirely different world within Delhi.

But to be honest, these initial few day's put aside, it still seems like there's hardly been a second's pause since i was here. The roads are still dug up outside my house, the atm's dont work ( although i hear atm transactions are free from any bank now, wow), and atif aslam still creeps his way back into every damn radio station ( this i blame entirely on the cinema strike, no bollywood = re-rerun heaven).

One week, and I've managed to get my first parking ticket, met testy loan officers who have changed for a third time, and the unlikely sight of two guys, very simmilar to the one's in goggles from the airport, 'air-guitarring' there way on Bon Jovi at the Hard Rock Cafe.

As I now continue my war with aloo bhujia and its attempts to give me a baniya paunch, restack my kurta collection from fabindia, not to forget shave off my goatie (and with it the ability to look 25), i know its back to the drawing board once again.