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Landing fresh from a long USA stay , I was all smug and gung-ho about the "value of life" and how " we Indians " never give it the due importance , about the pollution-free streets that "we never had" , about the freedom to wear "what we want ( read : sheer micro-minis) " and not being ogled at and I rambled on and on and on.

So you can imagine my displeasure on being suggested -- probably to shut me up -- by my Mother , that I visit the local winter-"fair" !!

My immense snout and immediate refusal did not deter her ..So I had to give in , Oh what the hell ! If an hour or so pleases her then why not just endure it out rather than the constant nagging ?

So on we went to the local fair grounds and a whiff of hot jalebis hit me immediately upon my entrance.Of course ! I did want to speak out immediately about the violation of food and hygiene regulations but something shut me up. It was the golgappa stall right next to the jalebis and without spending a single moment on thoughts , I rushed to get my fill.

My mother asked what happened to the hygienic-conditions and "requirement of mineral-water" that I sooo talk about but I chose to ignore her.

And then came the all important affair of checking out the wares and stuff on sale there. No matter how much I cringed my nose , I couldnt resist staring longingly at the multicolored scarves , the gleaming pots and pans , the saffron colored cloth-pieces , the "2-Rs a piece" ear-rings , the beady bindis , the fake-gold maang-tikkis , the honey glazed sweets , the salted peanuts , the freshly brewed lassi , the steaming tea cups , the embroidered bed-sheets ,

the vivacious ballons to be hit by a hunting gun ( 5 Rs for 7 trials ) where you get to keep the elusive stuffed toy only if you hit three balloons right ( no-one in the history of this universe ever got them ) , the fruit salad with its own indian touch , the spicy chutney , the bottled jars full of lemon pickle , the pretty ceramic horses and delicate wooden fairies , the fake flowers and fruit baskets that you can keep in your glass-cupboards for decor( "6 Rs no matter what you pick MAADAMM...Allright then at least take two and get two Rooopeeesss discountt MAAdammmm" )...What a heady cocktail for the senses , the brain and yes , indeed the soul .

All of these stuck a chord in my heart , there was something so warm and modest in these surroundings , so honest that you felt like laughing when they said , "let me reduce one rupee for you madam , you are iss-speciaall customer" .

It made me feel warm and happy inside. :)

Though I returned dusty and my hands were tired of carrying two full bags ( that I did not know or care to know were made of re-cyclable plastic or not , not anymore) , I returned Indian . A happy Indian . A very happy Indian with a wide conspicuous shameless Indian grin .

Satisfied to the core that I was born to this terrific nation where there were sometimes potholes instead of smooth highways but when you fell down; a one-thousand-hands helped to pick you up as well as every item of your shopping bag allthough its a different story that when you reached home , your cell phone would probably have gone missing. But then again , there's consolation because the localites would promise to do whatever was in their power to "trace him ..the rogue thief " allthough ideally it should have been the cop's job. Hehe

I am indeed back home.