My customary airport blog as I wait for my flight to Mumbai. I'm flying Virgin Atlantic this time, so I don't have to worry about travelling with a hoard of upper middle-class Indians. I suppose this is the most relaxed I've been travelling to India in the past few years. Dec. 2021 was in the fog of Covid, and Dec. 2022 was ahead of my PhD viva, even though I knew I would pass thanks to the benevolence of my examiners if not the brilliance of my thesis. The viva has come and gone, and I got away with minor corrections. There is still the matter of doing the minor corrections. Summer is not the ideal time to visit India, but every season has it drawbacks. Winter brings with it polluted skies, and summer the possibility of catching dengue for the third time or some other dastardly tropical disease. My relationship with India is complicated. Every time I go back, I feel more out of place and the thought of having to move back there if I don't find another job next year looms heavy. But India will always be home. And, I don't want to make it sound like every trip to India is an ordeal because it most decidedly is not. Most of the people I love dearly live there.
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