But the 1990s dream has ended, the world has changed, and so have we.
Just typing that previous sentence feels like betrayal. India is where I was born, grew up, started work and got married.
I have left the country for long stretches, and my teenage children don’t have any feel for its culture, cuisine or languages. Yet India and I have never let go of each other. When I write about other places, it’s as a foreign correspondent. The India stories are different. They aren’t all strewn with the first-person pronoun, but they’re all personal. Increasingly, they’re also bitter. Like this essay.