This entry is going to be fairly long, so get your popcorn and drinks. I finally went home after nearly 2 months and oh boy, it was absolutely divine. There is so much to say, so I’m going to break this up or I might end up sounding like a kindergarten kid who had the most exciting day ever. Here goes:

The Good Food paradox

I finally got home and was back in the hands of the loving food cooked by Mom. The food at campus is …well….not up to the mark. ( There might be some press guys reading this blog and I don’t want to give them any dirt on how bad things are here….Oops!) Anyway, thanks to the fact that the food is not up to the mark, yours truly has been eating lower proportions of food and has successfully lost 3 and a half kilos thanks to that. All cheer please. One would expect that once home, I would be gorging on mountains of food prepared by the ever so divine hands of Mum. But, this was quite the contrary. My stomach was all confused. Two months of terrible ( Oops…I said it again) food, and he was all confused with the sudden intake of actually tasty and edible food. Not to forget the amount of love with which it was prepared. My stomach went all crazy with the good food and was so shocked by this, that it decided to lose its mind. To cut a long story short, my stomach went crazy and oh well….long live Eno Salt.

Apparently my stomach has got used to lowered quantities that I tried very hard to stuff as much as I could in the 2 days I was home, but alas, I am a mere mortal and can stuff myself only so much. Go figure ! I was looking forward to hogging tons of home made food…and somehow, I’m back at college on Monday and feel I’ve done a major injustice to my palate. Sniff. I think the next time I’m going home, I’ll lumber up and starve for a few days so that I can please the palate and make full justice of the divine food that mom makes. Mom actually called up that day before I went home, and I requested that breakfast be Pav Bhaji….needless to say….mum has missed cooking for someone who appreciates food. Dad isn’t really a critic of any sort. If the salt is good, the food is good.

The Best Hangover Ever

The gang and I hit TGI Fridays by 6 PM to optimize happy hours. And by George, I don’t think I’ve loved alcohol so much. After two months of forcefully drinking depressing beer, I finally got to drink some actual alcohol. Long live Jack Daniels…and long live lots of Jack Daniels. And lots of Long Island Ice Tea…and tequila….and B-52 shooters. ( I wonder why a lot of people get the impression that I have a drinking issue? ) Anyway, at the risk of sounding like a total drunk, I believe Sunday morning was the best hangover ever….period. It takes a true connoisseur of alcohol to appreciate the beauty of a Jack Daniels and a coke over a mere Kingfisher beer. I know I have offended a lot of people right now…but you all know it is true. Whiskey and Bourbon rock! Especially if they are ‘on the rocks’….lol…I kill myself….

Back in Love

The major depressing point for me here at college is that I am at the mercy of others when it comes to transportation. This isn’t something I really appreciate. Back home, I had that ego-crushing Activa, but it was mine. From day one, she and I have shared a hate relationship, where we understand that we have no choice as things stand. And I would call her names without fail, every chance I got. However, after 2 months of having to be at the mercy of other people, I fell in love with the Activa when I saw her after all this time. At least with her, I could just go for a long drive, the wind through my hair, zipping past at a manageable speed of 75kmph, whenever I wanted to. But alas, I have no bike here. It was the most glorious 2 days we spent. I guess it is true, what they say. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Hot Water

Living in a hostel comes with a price. And living in a hostel in Chennai comes with a greater price. Our washrooms dont have any hot water. For someone who spent 24 years having a bath in hot water, the experience of cold water wasn't quite something I looked forward to, but like a lot of things, i've gotten used to it. Back home, with the luxury of my own bathroom, and my own room where I can play music while having a bath, rather than listen to the guy in the next bathroom singing his guts out to the latest Himesh Reshamiya number, my bath seemed somewhat odd. The whole concept of hot water seemed so foreign and vague. At the end of it, I wasn't sure that I had a bath at all.

Oh well, guess i'm evolving.