From Another Life:
Monday, August 06, 2003
Stillwater, OK

There's pesticides in coke now, after all the train bombs and the plague and airport authorities who scratch their palms when I want my own f-in luggage off the f-in plane. One more reason for me mum to say "But why do you want to come back to India?" I know why - because I want signposts in malayalam, I want temple bells at dusk, I want to eat bhel puri on the streets, I want silly smelly men draping rich silk around their tiny waists to get me to buy a sari, I want my ancestral 'tharavadu', I want the beaches with coconut vendors, I want to go the talkies to see a fillum. Heck, I even want the daily 'load shedding' power cuts, the slow ass internet, the mosquitoes, the cows on the road, the fisherman's bell interrupting my afternoon siesta, Amma nagging at me to get married or die a fat old spinster...anything if only it were home. I belong in third world squalor, I was born in tropical heat, I was reared with red tape and bureaucratic bullshit, I am equipped to fight for every 'equal' opportunity because I had the misfortune of being born female or of a certain caste. I dont think Amma's convinced though - damn!