The cabbie begins to call for directions at 4.15am. Good job I've been up since 4. Even leaving at 5 the airport is an hour away. Turns out I'm the only one who's taken the three-hours-before-take-off notice seriously.
The good news is that this time I've taken along only one very small bag. For everyone who knows what my packing agonies are all about, this is an achievement.
The bad news is that because I'm carrying toothpaste (and cream and perfume and kajal and homeopathy) I have to check the bag in. The inhaler I'm allowed to keep out because I am carrying a prescription.
Staying with A and L. I bring them a choice of two films. A chooses Happy Together. I'm happy to have Persepolis. On my second day there, we watch the film in the afternoon and L falls asleep. A prods him awake and he claims he was awake all the while. He proves this by asking intelligent questions about what's happening on screen.
These two days remind me that I haven't been out of Hyderabad since Kala Ghoda. That was an anxious time and frankly, so was the leaving this time. It brings back memories about that other time I had to get away and oddly enough, I find our circles converge* plentily.
I come back home having had the kind of break holidays are meant to be: free from anxiety and a place from where you can return to pick up all the baggage you left left behind and find that it's grown lighter in your absence.
Oh, and I had vast quantities of gajar juice.
Reading will be a separate post.
*JAP will no doubt say that I'm doing cryptic again over here.