Coming to Bombay and meeting with the mad bunch I used to work with once upon a time in history, makes me realise just one thing. Every single time. That I haven’t lost my touch yet :-)
This is a bunch that I belong with, the bunch that understands my jokes and whose jokes I understand. And more importantly, the bunch that actually has jokes to crack. My desperate need to be in Bombay every few months stems out of the fact that in Bangalore, a city with 5,840,155 (Google search result) people, there is just ONE person I am in sync with. And while that one person is all that is really going to matter in the big picture, it still makes me doubt my sensibilities every few months. But Bombay gives me a strange kind of reassurance that being a square peg in a round hole and not exactly being supremely liked for it, is not such a bad thing after all. If anything, it comes from a strange kind of complex and fortunately not in my head. The kind that I will never either get nor be able to explain. Bombay is the city where everyone fits. Seamlessly.
And then there is Maaaaaaaa, the shopping, the food, Daddy and his smug grins, and the baby sister and her random arguments. Am I just loving it? You bet I am!
Am I missing my Bangalore, my orange walls, the mindblowing weather, and my goofy husband, already? YOU BET I AM!