I'm back from Goa (again). Decidedly dirtier, darker and TIRED! I come back, visualizing my soft lit, cosy, room. A hot, long satisfying shower, few pages of any book and sweet, sweet sleep. I also visualized washing some clothes (but this wasn't doing me any good, so i ignored it).
Anyway, so i come back...waiting to hit bed. And you don't even want to know what i found.
Like lets make this a mystery blog. Like in Rebbecca how you never find out the protagonist' s name..you'll never find out what happened to me last night. It will suffice to say i screeched and screamed at a bewildered bahadur and later slept in the hall. Also i read a terribly written book called sari and sins, made atrocious maggi and hoped tomorrow was not another day (of the same kind).
I somehow manage to wake up, have a bath and get to the railway station. Where i proceed to miss two trains, board a third, which turns out to be wrong and almost get off on the wrong side of the platform. Which is by all means a death defying stunt. Travelling in Mumbai is continuous adventure. Right from getting "sucked in" to a train by three fat aunties in Mulund, to boarding a bus without money and being helped by a stranger who i previously thought was lecherous.