How can flying to India be devoid of drama. Hobbling on one functional foot, struck by the delay of the trains, I made it to the airport well in time to check in and buy chocolates thanks to Mumbaigirl. The way Heathrow is, by the time you walk to the departure gate, you feel like you have walked half the way to Delhi. For a marvelous change, there were no wailing babies on board. One cute as a button one year old giggled a lot. And it was all rather pleasant. But someone needs to tell Jet Airways to serve food that can be easily digested.
In fact, on Jet Airways, their strategy for ensuring a peaceful flight basically involves stuffing you with food every two hours. That way you are either quietly munching and are feeling less aggressive because the four extra “snacks” make you feel so much more obliged towards life in general.
Landing in Delhi, it took me a day and a half to come to terms with the humidity and the heat. Here’s the deal though. If you “foren-returned”, you dare not squeak about the temperature. One word about how hot it is, and people turn around and tell you’ve gone “soft” living abroad.
And while I am in Gurgaon/ Delhi, customary shot of a semi-ruin. Semi-rescued by ASI. Agrasen Ki Baoli which is curiously close to Connaught Place. A stepwell that’s completely dried up. The last time I saw water in it was in 2001 during monsoon. The cluttered, uneven skyline of Connaught Place looms somewhere. But in that quiet enclosure, squirrels run and pigeons poop. Somewhere, the tiny screeching noises of bats are heard. Yes, I suppose Delhi is a drama queen.
Just like me.