Everything has changed. Nothing has changed. I vacillate between the two every day I am here. We have a cook and two kindly women who come to clean. There is a Sephora and even a Wetzel’s Pretzels in the mall we visited yesterday.I have seen ordinary looking people spend more money than I earned in a month when I worked in television eleven years ago. We buy what we need, secure in the rate of dollar conversion. I have tired myself out as the family communicator, often people cannot understand a word my husband speaks. He is busy learning Hindi on Rosetta Stone.Our home has the bare minimums required to live. How much does a man need? The monsoon mornings are cool and windy. I do yoga on a mat before the children wake. The winds, the birds, the open patio doors- this I love. I write when I can. India has skyscrapers and malls. India has children knocking on your car window asking for food. My husband went back to the doctor for a follow up today. She charged him nothing for the visit. “Why?” I wondered. An old man sleeps in the rain under a covered bus stand. “Does he sleep soundly?” The rains in Pune keep this city cool. I have carried myself here, to my country, I say. I am Indian but then really I am not anymore. I am an American now. The conundrum continues, I am looking for the key.