Several years ago when we were still in primary schools, when Enid blyton adventures still looked credibly factual, when jobs as air-hostesses had more security, Tata Nano was still too unfeasible to b dreamt of, when words still hurt n actions came out unassuming, when rehearsed smiles were still unfamiliar n life was still beautiful, a 1st cousin of mine had come down from Dubai, for the 1st tym, 10 yrs after she was born, her parents in tow. They looked like the ideal NRI family…. happy…loaded…a tad more loved n missed than us who lived in India….a bit less compromising. Their infrequent visits to India, thereafter, used to be marked by the frenzied hurriedness of all our relatives hell bent on demonstrating the most of India n Her thriving ethnicity, especially 2 my cousin. The water was boiled for a bit more time, their clothes were washed with a bit more washing powder n food was re-re-checked ensuring a bit more hygiene. My aunt looked about guardedly as if tropical maladies were the customary stalkers in India n dying of malaria or diarrhea was the most ordinary thing dat happened to NRI visitors. The knowledge about India, that my overseas born n bred cousin got in dese two decades of her life n her 3 visits to India, was just that of a country, where rickshaw pullers n street dogs had abhorrently emaciated frames that structurally looked alike..... ppl speak incomprehensible languages at incoherent speeds......knowing “correct” English was a supplementary sumptuousness here, that very few could swank of....where pictures of a dark nearly nude lady with a triangular shield like face n her tongue let out, with 1 of her feet on a long tangle haired brute skin wearing man, a garland of human heads casing her breasts, remained on the walls in every Bengali household……where rice was eaten thrice a day n compulsorily with hands….. where fresh scorching red vermillion is put in the center parting of the neatly braided hair by every hindu married women each single day…… where intact neighborhoods come calling in times of crisis n merry-making ASAP….where pickled mangoes r eaten with meals n shoes are taken off b4 entering homes…..where alcohol consumption is still proscribed in front of elders n austere biscuits are routinely dipped in cups of tea every evening with the vernacular news channel high on volume, animatedly showcasing the newest political crisis….where wives still depend and wait for their husband’s salaries like a hungry cat ready to pounce on her feast n sexuality is sealed off n kept securely under wraps, away from sundown discussions….. We do live in a country, where lights go off just before the exam day n kissing in public n daring to have an “official” live-in partner is like becoming communal outcastes…… where married males have bed partners to douse theirs “Men’s Needs” n yet will bawl against prostitution being legalized….we live in a country where women r striped bare n made 2 walk around villages for alleged practices of black magic n witchcrafts n where child marriages occur at rampant in out-of-the-way areas, too far flung for media coverage ……where young women r pushed into the funeral pyres of their over aged husbands in unknown unheard unreported places…..here India dsnt really shine n 2mrw isn’t really bright…..n the state of affairs show no signs of improvement…..with the brain-drain hastening ….higher salaries n implausible pay-packages being pledged over-seas….ppl back home losing jobs without notices….party leaders driving away multi-crore business gambles from states making it simpler for farmers n common men alike to die earlier deaths….where secularism is still a far fetched cry…..where bombing n bloodshed happen every other day…..where terrorism cannot be combated because of the corrupt bureaucrats….where temples r brought down, masjids bombed n nuns raped….India will continue to under shine…..n cousins staying abroad will continue to think of our country only as their pitiable unrelated unconnected roots, our India which we have grown 2 love n loved to grow in….