Oh, won't you please take me home?

It's been about two months in this city and until two days ago, I still felt as if I was on vacation. You can't blame me. At every step, there was a mental comparison between my host city and my home city. One is bound to feel this shift is of a temporary nature. 

Two days ago, however, that changed. There was no trigger, as such, except the fact that I reached the sudden realization that I would miss winter entirely, this year. 

Now, this is a pretty big deal for me. I'm a complete winter baby, you see. I love that season. I love snuggling up in a razai at night. I love blowing on a scaldingly hot cup of tea to cool it down enough for me to not burn my tongue - and then burning it anyway. I love bundling up under layers and layers of warm clothes and putting on lots of holiday fat. (I'm not really lagging behind in the gaining weight bit, though. I'm doing a little too well for my liking, in fact.) 

If all of that doesn't prove my love for winter, maybe this will: I packed sweatshirts and jackets even for Mumbai.

(My leather jacket almost got ruined because of all the moisture here. I had to send it back.)

Anyway. So, I realized I would miss winter. That led me to think about a typical winter at home. Chandigarh. The family. I became terribly and irreversibly homesick.

Crybaby that I am, I teared up. 

Whatever. 

That's when Mumbai changed from being a city I'm currently in to a city I'm living in. 

I'm still trying to figure out what my opinion on this change is, though.