I’m here in front of my computer, like any other day except I won’t be here this time next week.
The news of Osama’s death got to me pretty late, through a friend’s email. I can’t pick up on any buzz on the streets though HRLN is right down the street from a mosque (Masjid Rd means Mosque Rd) plus there’s a sizable Afghan refugee community which all adds up to a large muslim population here in Jungpura. I am super curious as to what is being said. On a different note, the refugee community means there is really good Afghan bread here too.
But it’s moot, last night was my last market night here in India. I leave Delhi this weekend to go up to the himalayas and spend two weeks sipping chai amongst the mountains. Chai is my constant.
The office is flooded with new internationals, here between the school year for summer internships. Four arrived in the past week and at least four more will arrive by the end of the month. All their energy is mixed in with the departures. M. last week to Kashmir, the sisters to take exams and see family in Kerala, C. to Assam, me to Nepal. Drinks tonight on the terrace to celebrate and smile.
All the language of the HRLN office bounces in my head. PILs, CP, Foodista, MMR and IMR, chelo… I don’t want to leave it behind and I know I won’t. This all is going to be with me for a lifetime!!