Returning resident alien

Soon, I shall be hopping on a plane for a land far far away. Not unknown anymore, just plenty away. Soon, I shall be leaving India again. What did three odd weeks here do for me? For starters I had quickly learned that I had best carry at least Rs 2000 before I walk out of the door. And dare I wear any kind of open toed footwear; I must be ready for the darkened consequences on my feet. Surely, like what every form of media has re-iteratively hammered, India has certainly changed drastically. The Mumbai domestic airport stands at par with any average international airport. Road are littered with directional signs enabling a better quality of getting lost. The food is still fantastic. Cellular networks and services are light years ahead of those back in the states. Wi-fi is a tangible reality and LCD screens are everywhere. The domestic airlines are hiring reasonably fit air stewards who still haven’t forgotten a serviceable smile even if they skip the peanuts. Large amounts of money can buy you any western comfort you desire, even the ‘iphone’ no matter how marginally functional it really is. Cars are getting better. Mumbai will soon have the metro. Cell phone wielding maid servants still ensure a clean set of dishes and wiped floor for a month for less money then an average cosi sandwich lunch. Sadly, as quickly as the good has gone better, the bad has stubbornly refused to budge. If the cars grew in horsepower, the roads have doubled in creative potholes on a national highway. The cinemas sure have gone fancy, yet the queues remain not existent if not questionable. Toilets have new urinals which remain waterless. Male manners exclude courtesy and still entail wall wetting and on-the-foot spitting. Respect for women is still a distant rhetoric. And the once, famously well worded Indian media is now transformed into a lewd hyena looking to make news out of thin air. There is much covered on air, regardless of its usability. The concept of maintenance (of anything) and accountability (for anything) is entirely lost. Yet, I am sure that as the plane ascends over a twinkling Mumbai with black holed slums, I will look back with a certain sadness. Once again, I would have left behind a dear family, my only home, an irreplaceable set of friends and an ability to easily dissolve as an Indian amongst the other billion.