nesting

I met an old friend yesterday — at an Indian grocery store in South Florida. He is one of those people who you know throughout your childhood and one day, without warning, suddenly transform into a grotesque personification of adulthood.

Anyway, after the initial surprise at meeting a friend thousands of miles from home, and the exchange of general questions and answers about our current life and purpose of stay in this foreign land, we decided to drive up to Starbucks for coffee. Knowing that this guy was a, errm, I guess there is no good way to say this — knowing that this guy was a tad rigid with money, I offered to buy coffee. Over coffee, he completely turned me off by singing absurd songs of praise for the American way of life and his perverted, off-the-mark, unfair comparisons between Bombay and Miami.

I admit that the streets here are wider and cleaner and the life here is comfortable, however, I believe it is disgusting when people land in America and immediately make inappropriate  and disparaging comments about the country that they lived in for most of their life — a country to which they have everything to owe, and left just a day ago.

I love South Florida, it is like a second home to me – with it’s warm people, wide roads, sunny beaches, small lakes every few miles, safe residential communities, abundant supermarkets and drive thru restaurants. But, I also love my city, Bombay — where the blood and sweat of 18 million people churns to drive the country’s economy and where mom cooks fish curry and rice every Sunday of the year.