Travelled a long way since my last blog - both literally and figuratively. In one sense this is a dream, I'm on a scholarship to possibly the best school of international politics in the UK, and I'm living on my own... on my own terms, by my own rules. And yet, home seems like such a warm, welcoming beacon.
Its obviously more difficult because its the first time I'm away. The initial months were very hard, but its not so bad now. I quite enjoy the independence, the feeling of making my own choices... not that I didn't have the freedom in Delhi, but things are different when you live with your parents.
I'm still torn - I don't know whether this is something I could - that I want to - get used to, or whether I want to live at home until the M word. Its certainly addictive, not having to worry about whether we got water today, or whether the electricity is going to result in sleepless nights on days when the temperature is 40 degrees celcius, or higher. But is the lure just of living in a western developed society, with an aggressively capitalist structure? Or is it the "coming of age" joy of living alone?
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