Big dreams, small joys
It was hardly the stuff dream homecomings are made of. The sickening noise from the engines of the Indian Airlines (rechristened Indian) aircraft preparing for take-off, ensured that my first annual vacation to India began with a two-hour tribulation at Dubai airport. Our ageing plane had ‘surprisingly’ developed a technical snag. At least, that is what the grumpy air hostesses and sleepy pilot said. So much for the Rs 500-crore merger of Air India and Indian, India’s national carriers. One more reason to turn up one’s nose at everything Indian. It’s not difficult to comprehend why people from the subcontinent flock to Dubai like moths to a flame. Exchange rates aside, quality of life is the most pressing of arguments put forward by fellow expatriates. My recent vacation home bolstered this belief, but it also made me realise why dirhams can’t buy happiness and why India will always be home. Landing in Mumbai, after a year of living in Dubai was unnerving. The claustrophobic Fiat Pa...