Home

It has been 3 weeks since I left ISB and I can see a lot of changes within me. My sleep cycle has gone back to the normal mode (In other words, I sleep), I talk gibberish most of the times I am awake, remain glued to the Internet for no good reason, read essays of Francis Bacon, and ponder over the meaning of life. The general consequences of these activities range from a few raised eyebrows to a shout of, “Arrant nonsense! My son has lost it” (or its equivalent in Tamil) from my mom.

Surely, a couple of things worth mention in this post. First is the weather. It’s still early days of summer and by Chennai standards it has rather been mild, what with the rain gods sending in an occasional shower or two. However, the motley bunch that arrived from Bangalore earlier this week lost no sweat (literally) in denouncing Chennai as an uninhabitable geography. For once I stood exposed to the fact that Chennai (or at least the part of the city they sampled) was devoid of proper air conditioners, road sense, satellite channels, and decent people not to mention the weather that would make pigs sweat! Hmm. Certainly something to take note of. (Beware of visitors from Bangalore)

The second thing is food. For three weeks straight, I have been treated with an assortment of south Indian delicacies. Famished, as I was with burnt rotis, half-cooked rice and never-looking-different dhals of ISB, I am verily delighted at this welcome change. I can go as far as saying that my mom is God’s gift to gastric juices (next to Anatole), even if it is with a burp and the associated emotion. This undoubtedly has been one of the main reasons I enjoy my stay home. It’s a couple of more weeks roughly before I assume my new responsibilities in Delhi and until then I have no complaints that daily, it is rice… thrice.