This was written months ago....
I am again moving on the familiar roads of Delhi. The traffic is as usual. This city has seen much. It has had many a rendezvous with tragedy. The bus-stop at Uphar cinema holds an advertisement for an insurance company. The city always moves on. At a signal light, my thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the window. There’s a little girl, shabby hair and face, hand and nose pressed to the window glass, mumbling the obvious. I give her an apple. She points to her brother and asks for another one. I hesitate for a moment, then give her the other one. She simply turns and walks away reminding me that for some, life is a tragedy everyday. But I have my own way to go. I get busy counting milestones and finally after a long wait I am home. My mother had been waiting and I rushed to her. As I turn to get my things from the car, I see the marks of the little girl’s hands - still there on the window-glass.

The VISA officer across the glass pane said--" Well mam, your VISA is issued" and then I was in my own dreamworld for a few minutes.. dazed...I walked out of the Embassy. I was going to another country, I had the permission to. What does it mean? A different country...
Jijaji says that I should come early and give myself time to overcome the culture shock, that is inevitable. I think I would never be able to "overcome" the culture shock. The differences may cease to stark after a while, but they will remain. But then, as long as I know that I am coming back to my country I am game. Or am I?
Infosys Mysore where I stayed for about four months for my training, was a chunk of US in India. Absolutely clean roads, sidewalks, manicure lawns, everything flawless. For a month it was all okay, But after that I just HAD to visit the the town on the weekend atleast once to experience the "real" world, with all its chaos, cacophony, myriad mix of people, sounds and smells... GOD!! I will miss you my dear India. I feel so lucky to be born here.