I arrived at a sad realisation this week, while thinking about Mumbai. It came to me while I was away from the city, at a time when I ought to have started missing it. This used to happen regularly when I was younger, when any trip outside started with exhilaration and happiness at getting away and ended with a desperate need to see my crowded streets again. It didn't happen this time though. I stayed away for quite a while, waiting for either nostalgia or homesickness to strike, but nothing happened.

My love for the city used to be a constant, when I was growing up. It routinely compelled me to defend it in front of visitors and those who repeatedly raised its many flaws up for inspection in my presence. I would argue ferociously, listing reasons for why the city had redeeming factors that were being pointedly ignored. As I grow older though, I find it increasingly hard to come up with more positive reasons.