“The non-stop flight to New Delhi is half way. But only my watch informs me of that. Through the window we appear quite immobile, suspended over a vast expanse of curdling clouds. If, as I have often said, I feel myself suspended between two cultures, then this where I belong, the halfway mark”
Meera’s return to her family home in India after years of living in England is a dismaying jumble of comfort and frustration, familiarity and bewilderment. Even the simple chore of posting a parcel becomes and complex ritual that has to be learnt, memorised and performed in the time-honoured Indian way. She finds herself a child again to her protective old aunts, an innocent to her sophisticated cousins. As a woman between two cultures, can she ever hope to be at home in her own country again?