I am not to blame this time around. It’s him. He’s itching to go home. I wanted to stay in China for a little while longer. It’s only been a year and a half since we moved here. I have been in love with China ever since. But, after 14 years of living abroad, he’s ready to go home now. As for me, I am not quite ready for it yet. Not exactly the reaction anybody would expect from me, considering its my home too. I know that I should be jumping for joy. All excited to be going back home, where I grew up, where I spent most of my life, where I (apparently) belong. But somehow, that’s not what I am feeling inside. I am anxious. I am losing sleep over this whole thing. For one, I am not a big fan of living in India. Don’t get me wrong. There are a lot of things that are beautiful about that country in spite of the staggering levels of disorganization, inefficiency and corruption. It is a lively place. People are friendly for the most part. Nosey, but friendly. The standard of living is quite high for folks who belong to the upper-middle class. So, life will be comfortable. We will be closer to family. Ka will get to meet her cousins more often. Also, this is the one chance we are going to get at exposing Ka to eastern culture. That’s something we couldn’t do here in China since international schools are truly westernised. I will be able to work without a problem. I can finish my course in psychology from a better university. And yet, I don’t have a good feeling about this. But what difference does that make? I am a woman. An Indian, to make matters worse. It is my duty to be supportive of every decision my husband takes. It is my duty to bury my opinions if they go against what my husband and child want. It is my duty to put my husband and my child first. It is my duty to take the back seat in life. It is my duty to go with the bloody flow!