Heathrow Airport

I am waiting to board my connecting flight to Mumbai via Bahrain, and since both check-in and security check were a breeze I have plenty of time to kill. When I am in Heathrow Airport and also whenever I am in London, I realize how few Indians Bristol has compared to some other British cities. I am sitting next to the Jet Airways gate and it feels like I am back in India. Since most of the travellers on the Jet flight are Indian, the ground staff, who are also Indian, are treating them like children who need firm and frequent  instructions. Indians are known to crowd and be inconsiderate of those around them in public situations. We all want to be the first on the flight and the first off it. Zone-wise boarding is extremely difficult with Indian passengers, because many of us would prefer being ticked off y  the  ground staff on the off chance that we might make it past them before our turn. I say this more with affection than with derision. I have been away for a year and this scene is comfortingly familiar. A slice of India before I reach India.
Its been a tiring day. Packing up my life in Bristol took longer than I imagined and I had to struggle to fit all my stuff into the suitcases. My landlord had assumed I was going away for good and I had to correct him that I did intend to come back and resume my highly irregular living arrangements. It was another reminder of the impermanent nature of my living arrangement and how much it depends on the good graces of my landlord. I owe him a big debt of gratitude for his actions during my last long stint in India, and I fear I am piling on the debt rather than paying it back. Its not a situation I enjoy being in.