This year I will complete three years in the US. There is much to love about my new home. A nice suburban house with landscaped gardens, taps with running hot water, orderly traffic, trains on schedule... Yet, this week, Raja Menon's Airlift made me miss chaotic, mad India. When the Indian tricolour came up and the strains of "Vande Mataram" reverberated in the theatre, I wanted to be on the flight that took off for Sahar airport in Mumbai. I wanted to go home.