A package of surprises from India

Indian postal service. Everything you've heard about it is true. No wonder I was anxiously waiting to see if my package of delights would arrive. Three months of intense shopping meant I couldn't carry it all home. In fact, even the strongest camel would have struggled with my load. And so I packed it all lovingly and sent it on its journey home to Melbourne.

And despite all odds, my bundle of brilliant bits arrived!

Now the benefit of buying copious amounts of goodies is that a month later you cannot remember what it is that you purchased and needed to have so desperately that you decided to pay exorbitant shipping costs just to ensure you would have them. It's like Christmas. And Holi. Combined. Presents galore. I felt like it was a surprise gift from my Indian self.

And congratulations Indian self, you have outdone yourself in everyway. Yes, mailing over 60 Bollywood posters home was one of the best ideas you have ever had. Now my walls can be smattered with Bollywood goodness - bling, romance and outdated fashion. Kareena and Aishwarya greet me every morning. And Aamir in all his perfectionist glory looks over me when I sleep. Not that any warm-blooded woman could sleep with that 8-pack on the wall above her bed.

But somewhere in amongst the posters and chappals were my deliciously desirable bed linens that had been waiting to cover my bed since I first laid eyes on them in Jaisalmer. They look exactly like the linens I slept under for two months in my Mumbai home. They are kitsch and fabulous. They are offensively bright. They are delicious.

And I couldn't wait to curl up in my Melbourne home under my own piece of India. They smelt like India. I slept like a baby. A content, Mumbai baby.

And the next day I scratched. I itched and itched and itched. Apologies to the mosquitoes I wrongly accused of biting my feet. Once the bites travelled up my ankles and to my calves I had a moment of de ja vue. Yes. I had seen these bites before. I had felt these bites before. These tiny, tangy bites. Bed bugs. Bed bugs who had delighted in delving into my skin on the trains in India and on the suspicious 'clean linens' in the hostels I stayed in while exploring Rajasthan. These bugs were also enjoying a nibble on my legs in my bed in Melbourne. Yes, these little ones enjoyed sharing the journey with Aamir, Kareena and Aishwayra.

Unlike India, my Melbourne home has a washing machine.

All is well.