the kolkata from which i am leaving is not the kolkata to which i came (in a good way)

[tikaache]

tonight is my last night in kolkata. i have dinner with my father (mother is too tired to eat) at a fancy restaurant with charger plates and fabric menus and see two american or british boys probably my age who look like they just stepped off the prep school bus along with a busboy who says he has seen me at a computer lab. i drop my father off at the mona lisa and run into afreen and her mother, who are dropping emily and clayton off at mum-mum's. i give them both (afreen and her mother) huge hugs and tell them that i hope (to raleigh) that i will see them again. i say goodnight to the puppies who have ventured outside of their garage to the middle of the street and ring the bell to have satya-da drop the key to me one last time. i then head to the office and listen to wagon wheel (after copying the file safely to my usb drive) and cry.

tomorrow i head to sikkim (skipping darjeeling) with the parents. i look forward to meeting up with ross and greta and jaye and bailey and sara and peter and to not having to straddle the line between guide and tourist; i can revel in the latter.