“My father once, in New York, exasperated by my relentless demands to be sent back to finish high school in Bombay, shouted at me, ‘When you were there, you wanted to come here. Now that you’re here, you want to go back.’ It was when I first realised I had a new nationality: I was an exile. I am an adulterous resident: when I am in one city, I am dreaming of the other. I am an exile; citizen of the country of longing.”
–Suketu Mehta, Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found
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Last Friday, the day of the UK launch, I purchased an iPad. It should be noted that this was done in a semi-coherent haze amid severe jet lag.
I wandered by the Regent Street Apple store first, but the atmosphere was pure madness. A line four abreast wrapped around the block; Stephen Fry was outside covering the launch with a camera crew; police were everywhere; and the screaming and cheering of store employees as each customer emerged with his prize was just plain weird. (Note to Apple: iPad buyers are spending hundreds of pounds on luxury gadgets we aren’t even sure we need–seeing your staff so damn happy about it just makes the guilt worse. It also makes us feel like part of a cult. Knock it off.) So I headed over to PC World on Tottenham Court Road. Sure enough, there was ample stock and no waiting. I walked out with an iPad in less than 10 minutes and no one creeped me out.
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