What do I miss when I am away from India? Is it the sight of silver anklets laden feet, or the sound of the pressure cooker whistling away in its morning glory? Or the neighbourhood night-watchman's call and tap of jagte raho, keep awake, keep vigilant? Or the melodious music of the koels or the cawing of the crows? I miss all of these and more, for nostalgia is like sugar, sweetening every little thing.
Our friendship waned. I grew tired of constantly paying obeisance to her beauty. I also got tired of never getting complimented for anything. I understand that compliments aren't run on a barter system. But I did find it odd that for a woman who constantly thrived on references to how beautiful she was when she was young and how pretty she still was and the number of suitors she still attracted, she would choose to be miserly about how she complimented others. And that she could hold out on giving a compliment even if a person truly deserved it. The turning point came when she once commented on a person, who was her friend and was doing poorly on health issues.