You cringe. You whine. You complain. “My arms hurt, my legs are sore!” you cry out. The tables and the windowsill, dotted with various tiny items acquired from here-there-everywhere, stare. They even dare to giggle.
Packing up to leave can be a big pain. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Every muscle of your body and every thinking cell of your brain gets going and if you have no assistance, it’s a dreary great work out scheme.
Suddenly, I wish I had learnt to live like the boys.
Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune 