The flights are booked, and I have had the very gratifying experience of delivering the news to the exchange coordinator's office. Erwin and I will leave MICA for Mumbai on 24 April, and we'll touchdown in Singapore sometime in the night on 30 April.
So this is it. After months of planning a revolution while silently fearing that we would be caged in this timeless prison until June, our homecoming plans are finally concrete.
The relief and exhilaration I had anticipated has yet to hit. Perhaps spending the past months in a limbo has desensitized me.
Each passing day in this now-quiet campus is a day closer to returning to the civilization of my memories.
Where sidewalks are properly paved, and there's no reason to fear having one's toes rolled over by passing vehicles.
Where the air (though not necessarily the freshest) does not contain lung-choking dust, and cars do not drive against the traffic flow.
Where breakfast choices extend beyond eggs and butter toast, and beef and alcohol are not sacred rarities.
Where Fridays are usually dinner-and-chick-flick-night, and weekends are actually a time for leisure.
I can think of the many other routines of my pre-Indian life, but if there's anything being in MICA and India has taught me, it would be getting stripped down to the bare basics and, as I reiterated several times in a lengthy email to my dad, growing up.
Unlikely as it may seem, there is something so wholesomely addictive about this simple life. Grand and dandy it may be, life in Singapore often constitutes too many choices. Cityhall or Orchard Road? Western or Thai? Swimming or beaching? Bus or taxi?
I'm looking forward to coming home, yet I can't say I really look forward to leaving. Oh the irony.
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