Bitchy Haircuts and Dusty Humor
When you have been in a relationship for a while, often you tend to fall in love. But I didn’t.
I didn’t fall in love with India when I lived here for 22 years of my life. I didn’t fall in love with it in the last 5 years when I came back, every year from USA, to spend an entire month with my family. I didn’t fall in love with it even when it gave me refuge after a heart-breaking break up and a series of bad career choices.
I fell in love with it last night- when I was lying in my bed, trying to push away the lightening fast thoughts interrupting my rem cycle. India, for me, is not a country- it’s s state of mind. It’s those mangoes that are so sweet that they almost stick to your mouth; it’s the dust that covers you from head to toe when you go outside even for a second; it’s that boiling, skin pealing, burning, scorching heat that can match Arizona’s May/June, and, it’s those good, bad, uncontrolled, unpacked, abrupt, awkward relationships that I have made in these past 3-4 months.
