I heard an old hindi song, quite by accident, early in the morning today. Like most other songs from the 70’s, it was about love, was slow, and the song was about pain. A sad love song. It was as if a switch were thrown inside of me, and I haven’t quite been myself since. The song is stuck to my insides now. I want to be home, on an afternoon, listening to this song on AIR, about to doze off, with The Hindu on my lap, my grandmother with her palm-leaf fan in her hand, picking stones from the rice, waiting for the milkman in the afternoon, so she can drink her most prized cup of afternoon coffee. Lazy afternoons, music floating through the air, contentment, and non-air-conditioned summer.
Would someone care to explain what I am doing here, so far from home, pretending life?