He is sitting behind me with his bag on his lap. His hair is gelled and neatly parted in the middle. He wears a formal shirt and strange fitting, ugly pants. A black jacket and a pair of sports shoes complete him. He is looking for something in his much used blue handbag, intently shuffling through its contents. Where is it? His brows bunch up, and doubt begins to cloud his eyes, but his relentless hands keep searching. The group around him, his group, shift from one leg to the other, following his search with greedy eyes. They mummer to him, maybe words of encouragement, maybe rebuke, till he finally finds what he is looking for. He breaks into a crackling smile and pulls out a packet. A wave of cheer goes around the group. Riiiiiiiipp, opens the packet of shev bhujiya and instantly gets devoured. Kurumm-kurumm-kuruumm. I don’t feel home sick anymore.
