Mumbai was(is) like a furnace.
When I first stepped out to Ground Mumbai, I was reminded of the generator in my office during the power cut (which is an infuriatingly common occurrence, come summer) that radiates heat waves, and looked around for the heat generator before realising that it was right beneath my feet. There was nothing to do during the day time except perspire, take a bath, perspire, take a bath,…
And indulge in a lot of juicy fruits – mangoes, oranges and grapes of the tastiest kind were in season.

But a holiday is a holiday; Bangalore and its environment were temporarily forgotten and we merged with the Mumbaiyya life. But it had to come to an end like all good things and we fell to harsh reality with a Thud.

When we got back home, Bangalore welcomed us with a warm, grim air like a mother reprimanding a child who came in late from play. But like the ever forgiving mother, she showered love in the form of heavy rains complete with lightning and thunder (too much love, I say!). The stuffy air inside the house took a while to be blown away by the cool wind.

Ahh… it is good to be home.

Comments? What does Home mean to you?