There's No Place Like Home

But lacking that in any actuality there's no place like the next place - even if it's the same place we were before.

I've packed what little of our clothes and shoes we want to sacrifice to India, scalding the whites with bleach in hopes of fortifying them somehow against the grey water of Bangalore, and added another 25kg of bottles, bags, and containers full of all the wonderful ingredients we need to replicate the homemade Persian dishes we're so used to enjoying.

With less than five hours to go we're counting down spaceshuttle style - Tminus and all that - and checking the weather in Bombay (70 percent humidity) and Bangalore (full-on monsoon season).

We've got ten months on Hamid's Indian visa - mine being much more allowing with ten years and multiple entries means virtually nothing if we can't be together. So we're aiming to get our goals accomplished with a quickness we'll have to train ourselves into after the last year and a half of dogged laziness.
There are papers to be submitted, received, and applied for.
Dealing with three governments (our two respective and India's own) is a daunting task and although we look forward with hopeful anticipation there is no telling what will happen.

We know what we want and where we want to go - but it's up to the Universe to find it all in the cards - always has been, always will be. One thing we rest assured in, although there's no physical proof or voices from the sky issuing promises: we will be together.
There's no way we found eachother - one of us from Iran, the other America - in the middle of India, only to be torn apart by a convoluted destiny.
We are our destiny, the rest...well...the rest is just details.