I think it was when I jumped on stage to dance to Bollywood numbers with the 100 other people led by the Slumdog Millionaire choreographer, that I realised I was infected with India. Nothing could stop me, not even Hanan's aghast look as I moved my arms the opposite way to everyone else. No, for a brief, glittering moment, lit by spotlights, some colonial palace behind me, I was Aishwarya Rai -at least on the inside. I thought that, after that, the final hours of TED could do nothing more to complete my Indian odyssey, but more was to come when we had breakfast with Eve Ensler (the genius behind The Vagina Monologues and V-Day) and lunch next to His Holiness the Karmapa. Yes, it was a blast, AND we got to eat daal every meal, which combines deliciousness with colonic irrigation.
And so on to Mumbai, for a big meeting, and I stayed with Aseem, my brilliant cinematographer from I Can't Think Straight, and the man who worked so hard on The World Unseen in post production. He and his wife Leena are the most enlightened, kind and funny people I ever met. They sort of drift around telling the best stories which alternate between profound Indian mythology and deeply hilarious behind the scenes snapshots of Indian film sets, and in between they do the work of ten people. I hated to leave them, but I needed to go home to Hanan and the boys, and besides I'd had enough of musing about why everyone, even women in saris keep spitting on the pavements, or why car horns are used as a communication tool every two seconds. And I am sorry I didn't get to meet the Mumbai fans. I had forgotten how it is to make plans in a city where a) people call to set up a meeting as they are on their way to see you b) the traffic makes Piccadilly Circus feel like a bike trail. Plus my first encounter with Indian Chinese food did me in more than any wine-fuelled dancing could have. And so, I came away from India having met one fan at least, Kusuma in Bangalore who greeted us with beautiful flowers and breathlessness. I'm sure that happens to Aishwarya a lot.
And so back to London where I looked forward to peace, quiet and a gentle welcome home for the weary traveler. Of course, during this reverie in the car home, I had temporarily forgotten whom I was married to. And so, I dropped my bags at home and rushed to Luca’s class assembly, where he had a lead role, and then after helping him and 15 other hyper seven year olds change back into uniform, I collapsed into the car and begged to go home to a hot shower and sleep.
‘You’re not coming to the office?’ Hanan asked.
‘I’ve been on a plane all night, haven’t slept in days and I don’t feel well,’ I whined, as we pulled up outside the supermarket. Hanan thrust a list into my hand.
‘Here. We have 10 people for dinner tonight.’
I knew that, of course, and it was for such a dear friend that shopping and making a home made birthday cake was a pleasure (I skipped the office!) As I staggered into bed at midnight, I looked forward to an easier day to come.
‘We’re moving offices tomorrow,’ Hanan reminded me. ‘4th floor. No lift.’ Why did she have to say it out loud? I mustered just enough strength to start weeping.
And so, I am behind on the blogs. But, you’ll be happy to know that Hanan has been nagging me non-stop since I landed to post one. And I feel she's recruited spies onto her side. I just fell asleep with the boys while allegedly putting THEM to bed, and I woke up to find them staring at me...here's the blog. I'm off to sleep. I hope.