5.16 a.m. Time to Wake the Rooster

right ho, this has got to be quick-- our cab gets here in 25 minutes and I've been assigned several (mostly unnecessary) tasks between now and then. (Erm, my dad just said "chalo" -- wonder if we're planning to walk to the airport.)

So, we're off to Goa today. I'm so excited I haven't slept much. Of course that could be the jetlag that continues to plague me. I've had the --some would say previlege-- to hear that darn rooster crow every morning. Today, like any other day since I got here, I finally hopped outta bed at 3.40 a.m., turned on the computer, did yoga for 10 minutes (handy tip of the day: cleanse the aura as you wait for your computer to turn on, pray to the yoga gods for a new computer), then hopped into the shower. I've been ready to GO for about an hour now.

Bombay's been fun so far. I've bonded much with the parents and the aunts and uncles (they're a rather bright, somewhat cynical lot), eaten to my heart's content (by now I'm on a self-imposed okra hiatus), and twisted several muscles outta shape in vague attempts to achieve balance or some such thing in my body. (Eeep just got assigned another task before we "chalo" on outta here)

I'm curious to know what domestic travel is like here. When I got into Bombay airport, I breezed through immigration and swine flu screening (yes, it's true), spent about an hour and a half at baggage claim, then was asked to walk right past (not through, past) customs because I was traveling light. Not the safest, albeit good samaritan-like, move on the part of the customs officer but you won't hear me complaining.

So much more to ramble on about but it looks like I've gotta dash.

O&O,
Divya

oh bloody jetlag

seriously? you'll wake me up at 3 a.m. to tell me you're done sleeping? SERIOUSLY? do you know who you're messing with?

They say honesty, dahling, is a wonderful thing

Met my friend after ages. The first thing she said to me? "You've gone SO fat -- you even have a paunch."

Erm, yes, the silver lining to that (because there's ALWAYS a silver lining) is that apparently I look so obnoxious that she didn't have the heart to get to the follow up question: "So, when are you getting married?"

Coz no one would want to marry a fat frump with a paunch. No siree bob.

::phew::

bhindi, YEAH

and other absolutely delicious things for lunch. sigh, sigh, happiest sigh in the whole wide world!!

Are You Alright, Mum?

7.25 a.m. Thanksgiving in America.
Good morning, London. I saw you in your golden, glittering beauty as we touched down just before the crack of dawn. Now here we are in the pink morning sunlight waiting to shift gears once more. 3,669 miles down, 6,000 to go. First I'll have to get me a cuppa tea.

Alan Carr (is that his name?) is a funny guy. This flamboyantly gay stand up comedian from Manchester kept me reasonably entertained on my flight (on video, of course). Once I figured out his accent, I giggled all the way over the Atlantic stopping only to silently scorn the man in front of me who embarked on a deep, deep dig into his ears. Once the treasure was found (and by the look of it there was much to be had), he generously sprinkled it along the aisle. Back to less obnoxious gestures though, Carr mocked the sporting skills (or lack thereof) of his countrymen reminding his audience of the token Ethiopian runner who beats everyone in the Olympics while the Brit contestant can be spotted stumbling along with an egg in a spoon. Funnier when Carr said it, but funny still.

There's something to be said for Heathrow airport. It's all jazzed up even at 7 a.m. The strange thing has always been the sudden demographic shift from the flight to LHR. More Indians than ever before all speaking in incredibly thick Brit accents. I suppose I can relate -- I have one prepared without ever having lived here ready to be whipped out for just such ocassions.

It's 2 a.m. my time and I really should be asleep.

O&O,
~D

1.34 p.m. Nov 27, Eid.
Home.

nothing to see here.

I haven't slept very well in the last week. Because every night I climb into bed hoping the morning will roll around in no time. I can't tell if it's because I'm starting to fear the dark again or whether I want something to hurry up and happen. I don't think it's the former, and if it's the latter I have no idea what that something is. All I know is that some unknown element of my life feels a bit incomplete and every night I hope the next morning will hold the answer.

No luck, still.

Harold Pinter's Weather Forecast

The day will get off to a cloudy start
It will be quite chilly
But as the day progresses
The sun will come out.
And the afternoon will be dry and warm.

In the evening the moon will shine
And be quite bright.
There will be, it has to be said,
A brisk wind
But it will die out by midnight.
Nothing further will happen.

This is the last forecast.