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Home or something like it

Its been a while since I’ve come back to Hyderabad, my hometown for over 21 years. However, this time doesn’t feel different. After spending several years in Singapore, there was an anticipation, an excitement every time I returned home. The fingers didn’t tickle this time though. And neither did the heart beat any faster. The familiar sight of my mother at the airport was not there either.

The concept of a home has always been important to me. Singapore, for all its greatness could never rival home was the saying. How can it match the vibrancy, the wonderful hues and the bundle of contradictions that is India? Singapore is just the same old. I realised today that I miss the same old.

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I drove to the theatres today. As I was avoiding the buffaloes on the road (a scene right out of hyderabad blues) it struck me that this is why I love India. Buffaloes don’t move even after incessant horn blowing. I’m guessing they take their cues from the people. The road has been half repaired – I’m assuming the government decided that people didn’t use the other half afterall. A Tata Indigo driver hit another Tata Indigo (while it was parked) and calmly drove away.

I do think a great thing though is that you can spend an entire half hour in this city (country possibly) without seeing someone wear a hot pink t-shirt.

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