The weather in Delhi, compared to Bombay at least, is delicious. The two day trip to the latter was quite a lot of fun in terms of things other than work. That did not turn out as well as it could have, but they don't always go the way they are intended to, do they? I met more than a couple of bloggers, (apologies to Vikram whom I ran into again at Toto's, while I was in one of my lousy and morosus maximus moods), caught up for a bit with some of the old friends, ate copious amounts of fish, drank a lot of beer and have more or less sworn not fly Air Deccan ever again, other than for the tickets I have already done for July 9th, for its unnerving similarity in user experience to the Delhi Transport Corporation buses.
On coming back, I was greeted by a Delhi bathed in a shade of vibrant green; apparently it was raining here for the two days that I was not here. On most other occasions, I have been kind of sad to come home back to Delhi. This time I was relieved to get back home, it was almost like running into the arms of someone familiar again. The way it smelled (kept clean by the maid, just to clarify), the way the sunlight filtered in, weaker, into the room and the warmth of my own private space, was more welcoming than I can express in words.
Maybe it is also because over time I have stopped being in awe of Bombay. It is big, smelly, dirty and horribly expensive in terms of real estate. But it also hits you suddenly that there are no great demons in the place (first time I went there in 2001, I had mentally prepared myself to be attacked by a gangster at every corner; don't laugh, I am not kidding!) and if it came to it I could move there, or any other town for that matter. I do not know, I am in quite a weird mood right now. Maybe it has nothing to do with any of these and is all about the trip to back home in July.
The parting shot has to belong to the Football World Cup. It has been a bit of a let down even though I am no great football fan. The way some of the major teams have been outrun in the midfield almost make believe that some of them have been playing in the Indian league for bit now. And what is it with nobody wanting to shoot at all? It is unbelievable. Which is only trumped in terms of disappointment by ESPN's coverage of the event. Harsha Bhogle looks as lost and pretentious as Britney Spears would at a Mensa convention and the less said about Vinay and Ranvir and their two bit crummy show, the better.