I have no thoughts here. But I need to quit blaming the city. I don't even think I'm completely homesick just yet. Of course, I miss the food back home. But that's only because people here apparently don't hold taste in  very high regard. They eat for the sake of eating. Even I would I guess, if I had to get on top of other people in the locals every day on my way  to work and back and sweat on one another. Good food becomes an obstacle then. So they just make every thing smell the same here - of Garam Masala! - and eat it as they pretend to know the difference. Also, people don't hug here. They're all side hug-ey and fist bump-ey and well, generally sweaty. So I can't blame them for that too. Bomblasts and Malaria are to Mumbai what Rapes and Money are to Delhi... redundant and perfunctory. So okay, Delhi has counterparts. I parallel Malaria with Money not only for the common letter but for the fact that Delhi has money. Yes, I rub it in at every chance I get.
I'm popular here. But I was back home too. As I would be wherever I go. I'm sufficiently funny, averagely smart, pretty slutty, compulsively chatty, regular smoker and an alcoholic... like, why won't I make friends? I missed two days of college because I almost had Malaria (or so I thought!), and my bastard phone wouldn't stop buzzing about how bored everyone was getting without me. Yes! I'm a glorified class jester! Sue me! But the class jester gets in on the secret parties, so Screw You!


Speaking of Malaria, Mumbai has made my path collide with a very very cute Doctor; whom I'd totally go to visit again if it wasn't for the bloody long waiting line. We were totally flirting too in my big tshirt and pyajamas. Or was it just me? Or was it just that I was under medication? Whatever the case, cute doc. Notice how I don't throw around 'Bombay' anymore. I call it Mumbai now. For political reasons, of course. I'm not sure what they are but. Enlighten me, someone?


Oh! and the work I have here! The overdose of assignments is going to be the end of me, you'd think. I did too. But then came my fifty million household chores. Home here is where the household chores are, apparently. The heart thing is clearly a lie!