The green green grass of home..

"Oh my god, look how thin you've become! Poor thing! You looked so much chubbier in June!" This is part of the de riguer homecoming reception speech on each of my sporadic trips to meet kith and kin. If you have not already guessed it, this heartfelt show of concern emanates from my mother. This sentence is usually followed up by a helpful rejoinder by my sister, who thoughtfully points out the likeness between the midriff of yours truly and certain pneumatic products of esteemed companies like Dunlop and such. This,quite predictably, leads to some amount of discussion between both of them in an attempt to reconcile the stark differences in perception about my general appearance.

Some things, thankfully, never change.

The early morning hustle and bustle around the house where no late nights are an excuse for late mornings, unless you want to miss out on the morning walk down the tree-lined road and the freshly brewed ginger chai. The precious nuggets of gossip unearthed from the early morning banter in the kitchen when the day's meal is in preparation. The slew of instructions issued by the powers-that-be with regard to washing of clothes, errands to be run and other such matters of huge socio-economic import.

As the day progresses, the agenda for the day emerges where attempts are made to fit in divergent objectives to create a somewhat hybrid schedule which includes a matinee movie, a trip to the tailor, some grocery shopping, a game of badminton and even a dip in the pool/jacuzzi. As democratic as that may sound, the much sought after trip to "town" is put off for later, leaving some sniffs of dissaproval amongst the proletariat.

All that has been said,is done and the day nears a satisfying end. The lights sparkle across the road in the shops and the swimming pool below gleams in the moonlight. The stars look down and carefree clouds float past in the sea of glowing darkness, rowed along by moonbeams.

All is still. I am home.