Bye bye Amerikas

Loved the 2 years here. Leaving on May 25th, and so this blog ends. It was a pleasure, ladies and gentlemen.

All comments and brickbats welcome. Will leave a forwarding address, but I seriously wonder if anyone reads this blog anymore.



A long due post on yet another clueless property of the Americas – the version of spring.

Coming from tropical countries like India, one is inclined to think that spring is all about chirping birds and flowering trees and in general, quite some sun. One usually celebrates either the harvesting time or Holi, with lots of colour and smiles being the theme of the season.

That’s just a tropical thing, I guess. This year in America, spring is.. well, not.

March is here, and it snowed twice in the last 20 days. It feels really odd (of being in a land far, far away¹) , when I find myself walking to school in three layers of clothing, and Ma talks about the sweltering heat and 3 hour power cuts in Hyderabad.

Spring break’s here, and it’s as gloomy and depressing as a december evening. Sometimes I wish the sky would open up like a big blockbuster movie and give an apt reason for calling it ‘torrential rain’, rather than just drizzling like a very sad and long running soap starring Alok Nath².

I just miss you, Sun.

1 – Shrek was the inspiration. Donkey helped too. 🙂

2 – Please god, spare us the agony of another ‘Thoda hai, thode ki zaroorat hai’.


Every time I decide to stop writing on this one, I am surprised by the number of hits. Maybe I should actually start writing about periodic cycles of blog traffic.

Alright, alright.. bad joke.

Hmm.. so I’m back. From a fabulous vacation. I did not open one book, did not send one useful email and hardly talked to anyone I knew professionally. Instead, I ate like there’s no tomorrow, gallivanted around the country, fed stray puppies and took 500 photographs from my new camera. Ah, bliss!

When you know what they mean by ‘coming back to the real world’, you realize that the experience is akin to having been flying in the sky and then feel someone tug at your leg, saying ,”Hey, babe.. are you gonna come down the high post or what?”

The journey back was indifferent, the experience after, listless. Man, there’s no variety! There are no orange coloured shops saying ‘Sripullareddy Ghee Sweets Shop’ and the roads are looooooonnnnnggg and wiiinndddddiiiiinnngg (you get the picture). The trees are bare, the snow is just a tad bit comforting and the freaking heater won’t work!

Talk of hangovers.