Recently there was a Bollywood girls only night in my neighbourhood and I had to go.
There were tables of: delicious pakoras and samosas; Indian textiles and jewellery; a bhindi stand; mendhi counter. Above was a screen belting out dated Shahrukh or Aishwarya Bolly Holly movie hits.
I stood amongst the crowd mostly dressed in sari glitter, sipping masala chai and throwing back a couple of gulab jamun while the giant screen brought back memories of movies I’d once seen.
I hoped for a little more hoopla from the Punjabi dancers who thumped out their hypnotic rhythm, but once we entered the theatre later in the evening, I was instantly reminded I was in Canada, not the country I’ve imagined returning to for years.