Have started writing again... simply for the sake of it. It's ironical in a way. England was where I thought I would have all the time to muse, mull and make stories, not Bombay. But this city, with its dust, distance and dirty trains is keeping me more at home than I had expected. Going out, it seems, needs to be planned a week in advance if you want to make things comfortable. Of course, the definition of comfort is very subjective (and thank God for that!). If there is just one thing that makes Bombay acceptable, it's the people. Everything else is best lived through by holding your breath and shutting tight your eyes.

Do I hate Bombay then? I don't know. So far, I have no reason to like it.