Dear Reader,

I wonder at who you are, where you're from and whatever curious and unexpected string of incidents, incompetencies and inspirations led you to encounter this blog at this particular moment in your life and mine. I started this blog in a burst of youthful enthusiasm, full of confidence, at the age when most teenagers fancy themselves soulful poets and stirring tellers of the universal truths of life, love and death. Unfortunately, four years in a small expensive American liberal arts college known for its academic rigour and low retention rate due to the tendency of its inmates, much like its most famous alumni, a not unknown Mr. Jobs, to regularly drop out, left my confidence in intellectual articulation rather in shambles. After an intense and sordid year long love-hate affair with my senior thesis I emerged with divorce papers and the alimony they call a diploma. I spent the summer rooming with a couple of fellow college inmates, playing the role of the broke and mostly sober recent grad remembering the good times and as time usually has its way, allowing the bad times to be left behind with mismatched socks, rental bills, bookends, notes from a nearly failed class, broken tango shoes, phone numbers of people I'm likely never to see again, and a half-eaten cup of banana yogurt when I moved out to fly twenty four hours back to Bangalore to be reminded by my also recently graduated siblings that I'm one of triplets and must once again, against all evolutionary instinct amicably co-inhabit the parental abode.

So here I am, feeding my sensual appetite on amma's lemon rice and potato fries and xkcd, breaking it down to Ek Tha Tiger music, reading unknown and inspiring Indian bloggers, laughing uncontrollably to Wodehouse and creeping on the neighbors with a gigantic phallic dslr in attempts to capture Real India, and satiating my spiritual cravings on that which I admittedly mostly ignored before I went off to The Foreign; meditation, classical dance, regional languages and all else connected with The Fabled Most Ancient and Wonderous Indian Culture. I'm taking a breather after college to chill briefly with the family before going where the proverbial winds take me. Preferably in a well constructed flying machine. I'll trust the universe to throw me a manual, extra fuel and a co-pilot en route.
  And here you are. Perhaps you're a passing cumulonimbus or nimbostratus, or a distant dormant volcano, or an SR-71 flight manual, or a burst of unseasonal hail, or a flock of sociable magpie geese, or a pit-stop efficient Siberian refueling station or a blue helium balloon lost from a spring wedding or that darn absconding co-pilot. Whatever you are I welcome you to this here my blog. I look forward to making your acquaintance and reading yo' shit.

Love,
 Indialuna