It just hits you.

It's strange how homesickness just hits you. I'd been getting along just fine on my own and loving every minute, until yesterday. Yes, I've had my good days and my bad days, but  this time was different. I made it to my seventh, and final, class of the day, absolutely exhausted as usual, but with a good lesson planned out. I have to be strict with 2nd C Section, otherwise their bad behaviour gets out of hand, but I just couldn't work up the energy to put a stop to mischief before it escalated. I'm not entirely sure what set me off, but the combination of the heat, my exhaustion, my frustrations about teaching and the awful beating that I'd witnessed earlier (the worst part was when the teacher sat Rajeswari, who was in floods of tears, on the floor to redo her hair, after she had tugged at it and beaten her so much that her perfect ribboned plaits had become a tangled mess) had me running to the bathroom trying to hold back tears. Everytime I thought I'd composed myself another wave would hit me and I'd go rushing back so that the children didn't see me cry. Eventually Haseena madam and Vesundhara madam came to see what was up and I broke down. I couldn't explain to them why I was crying, because they wouldn't understand what it's like for me to work in a school like Sri Chaitanya every day, knowing how different things are back home. The only words I managed were, "I want my mummy".

I can't remember the last time I used the word mummy, but it set me off again.

I cried in Haseenas arms.

I cried when a boy from a passing school bus from Ongole put his hand through the window, pulled my hair and shouted "white girl".

I cried walking to the bus stand with one of the tenth class girls.

I cried when Venkayamma asked me what had happened.

And finally I cried in my room. I stopped trying to breath deeply and gain control - the Indian way - and let myself cry until my eyes were dry.

I still find it strange when I think of how I was unable to stop the tears from falling. Of course I miss home, but I've never felt homesick or wanted to be back home in the UK. As quickly as it came, the homesickness went. A parcel of kitkats, timeouts and dairy milks made sure that it wasn't coming back. Thank you Grandad, and thank you everyone who has sent me things in the post. Lots of love to you all.