(Chris and Gita, analogue of a picnic pre-India)
Still sifting through heaps and piles, I'm glad to have found the sun returned to me from across the oceans, and have thus taken several breaks to bask in its glory. With picnics and biscuit-baking being the order of the day, it's still amazingly busy (I have managed, against all odds perhaps, to even find a job) and I'm kept away from desk-sitting introspection and (sadly) typed-India-rehashings.
Thinking back though, I'm surprised at how much happened within the two year framework, and to use a cliche; it felt like forever, yet like absolutely no time at all. I can still vividly recall how sticky and dense my first gasp of Mumbai air was, how long the jeep ride felt, how large campus initially seemed. We wrestled in the mud of the monsoon-drenched lawns, kept our eyes and mouths perpetually open and grappled with foreign languages, cultures and food, both in and outside of school. And then, we were back on a plane, back in a jeep, and back in a familiar landscape that never got dull, only, at points, too intense.
Before I knew it, the photo above became two years old, the rooms cleared and monsoon beginnings seen for the last time for the near future. Although I have learnt a lot, listened a lot and obtained a lot of good music, it seems I'm still not quite so great at writing all of this down. 'Bad girls don't keep diaries' doesn't feel like the most appropriate phrase to borrow here, so I'll leave you once again with extensions of long-overdue promises and the side-note that home is happy and my first autumn in a while is slowly dissolving the greens of summer in a most lovely manner.
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