ma’s garden’s flowers and chini :)

zoom in and see the bee !

succulent's flowers

phlox

liliums

chini

journey home

ran out of mol and stat therm class at 12 30 and i’m checking on a few things when moti calls – alright, i have lesser time than i calculated – five instead of fifteen… forget my essentials in the process… nonetheless, am at the airport, security checked and everything half an hour before the flight…
flights for delhi and goa board from the same gate – and irritatingly i see people rushing in ten mins after the actual flight time ! heights! ok people with connecting flights are excused but still! anyway, i finally board to find that i’m sitting next to two huge people – presumably arabic from what i could figure from their conversation… but that wasn’t the worst part… the worst was that the guy next to me was wearing some horrid perfume… pungent would be a mild way to put it… i don’t think i’ve smelled my hand for two hours continuously other than yesterday… boy was i glad when i got up and left…

anyway, reached chandigarh – outside temp 26 degrees… regretting my full sleeve wardrbe i’d tagged along… i’ve become fat – my elbows are touching paunch fat as i sit in the front seat of the car… i need to lose weight… come home to – well – the streets, the familiar brick red building, the pleasant shouts of ‘mujhe pass kar‘, the sweet smell of kamini flowers… ma’s clinking bangles… baba’s footsteps… and the rhythmic clanging of the lock of the door when it’s shut…

and of course, babuli I)

dead x-P

11 exams in 13 days – beat that
am so waiting for the 20th and also the 14th (or before) – whenever my gift arrives
song on my playlist : tribute (long long favourite inspirational song courtesy di )

fresh days…

so i’m blogging 40 mins after the awaited hour of midnight – was in a hall filled with people, my ‘bong connection’, was awaiting a message and was awaiting a call… strange how those three things kind of sum up my past year and going according to common belief, this year as well…its strange, this does not feel like the beginning of a new year at all – much like my birthday didn’t seem like a birthday to me at all… the realization that yet another year is past is yet to dawn on me…

a few resolutions which i make for the coming sem, considering my life has become defined on sems now :
put my best in things i choose to do
participate in things i’ve always wanted to
let my ego be trampled upon – its for the good
find time for love, family and acads (order not specified)
not get too emotional at things, atleast not in front of people
value people worth being treasured
not hurt people dear to me
lose weight.

frosty fetishes :)

30 hours from the sultry city of dreams to the city beautiful boarded the train in a half sleeve tee ; a cotton full shirt 5 hours hence ; cuddled up in the blanket all night ; hostel sweatshirt on next morn a sunny ‘brunch meet’ at the capital’s station the most awaited one… four hours later, was in the car with ma baba, going home enroute the newly built zirakpur flyover… tried to find the familiar ‘pi scholastics’ building but alas

things i noticed were affected by the temperature changes… the water in the loo for one – brushing was quite an ordeal and i’d given up on washing my face but ended up doing so considering i was gonna see him after a year almost the ‘dr lips’ tube in my pocket – warmed by the tepid envelope it managed to remain at its initial temperature until it alighted on the dressing table here at home and solidified – something i smiled at when i realised it… moot i know, but still…

woke up this morning to find that even the metal frame of my specs gave me a twinge, being groggy and eager to get back under the blanket… my watch seemed to have been yielded in ice… a loose tshirt fluttered around my midriff in the morning breeze, sending a welcome shiver up my frame… its so good to be back home

home calling :)

and yes! exactly at this time day after tomorrow i shall be home home sweet home after 4 whole months

shubho bijoya :)

today is officially the last day of Durga Puja – or pujo as we call it… the idol is immersed today and otherwise, all over india its dussehra – or dashami… this time pujo just whizzed past because i had exams on monday, tuesday and wednesday – four of them… i was so busy in preparing for them that i could only give anjali on ashtami and have bhog on that day… didn’t go to pandals in any of the evening – though had invitations from a specific someone… i’ve never missed home as much ever before…

gargi, ana had called day before evening when they were going to have the ‘world famous’ egg rolls of the sector 35 banga bhavan pujo at chandigarh… the fun, the lights, the noise, the people decked up in new clothes, smelling of proshad and bhog, little kids peforming on stage, elders performing plays by rabindranath and the like, the protima – in daak-er-shaaj, the smell of camphor from the hands of the thakurmoshai, smiles on peoples faces, children running about, the octagenarians cooling off under fans, meetings and greetings, dhaak, dhol, dhunuchi naach, everything… oh how i miss it all…

and to think today is the last day and i didn’t see even an iota of all this stuff… pujo – totally nonexistent for me… i wonder how my di sitting in ithaca is feeling… thank god i’m going home in exactly another fortnight

PS : officially crossed 5,000 hits

downpour of tears…

was weirdly ill last night… a constant feeling of uncontrollable nature’s call but on going to the loo, find that i can only pass out 1 ml of the thing… on top of which, there was this pain on the lower left side of my stomach… i was scared it might be appendicitis or something wrong with my right kidney…
in the process i discovered that all my medicines had expired – i forgot to take the medicine kit home this time and baba could not replenish them… thankfully my roomie had some…
and to top it – i had only Rs 1.76 on my phone balance – thankfully std calls are only Rs 1.50 courtesy airtel prepaid and local calls are 50 paise… so i could atleast give a missed to people i needed to talk to…

in between the infinite trips to the loo without any eventful passage and vomiting twice and that twisting pain in my stomach, i realised i’ve become invaluable to three people in this world… i used to be the world to my parents – and still am, but there has been an addition in the last year – he’s says i’m his everything…

i’m unwell – i get stung by an ant, i develop fever or any kind of ache, the first call is to baba… i trust him he’s given me all the medicines to make me well… in the process, i hear ma’s scared and fearful voice… i’m the world to them… i thought i’d cry buckets this time at the airport when leaving home… i didn’t… i fought my tears very hard… the last time i saw my parents was when i was proceeding to the security check – they were outside, waving from the window – tears in their eyes… there were tears in mine too but i was fighting hard to keep them back, waving with a smile… its so hard to leave home…

i think of them – they’re sending me out in the world so that i may have the best of education and life possible… i wonder how the lonely car ride home without their only daughter might seem… and walking into a house that still has traces of her touch all over it… i painted the bathroom and kitchen tiles this time… maybe ma walks into the bathroom and cries on seeing those paintings… maybe she sees me while she’s cooking in the kitchen…

i wonder how they can adjust to the fact that even though i love them so much, i’ve let someone else take an irreplaceable place in my life too… that we trust each other so much so that his mother acknowledges that i can cool him down more than she can when he’s disturbed…

they spent 18 years of their lives bringing up their child only to find that even though they know that their child loves and respects them a lot, everytime they call, they find they are on waiting because she is speaking to someone else… how can they adjust to the fact that for 18 years there were two and a year later, there are 3? and the third is soon gonna overtake their importance in her life…

but maybe they remember their own teenage as well… maybe they understand… that even though she loves this third person, their importance is in no way diminished to her… she still respects them as much as ever…

i wonder what kind of a frame of mind i’m writing this in… i’m only 18… is it weird i can feel my mother’s pain? i don’t know… i’m just writing what i feel…

anyway, what i started off with… i’m invaluable to three people in the world… they are my world…
i want to thank God for the three of them – two loving parents and a love i won’t find in all the time to come… thank you…

one week of hols left :(

time flies, it really does… and in a week and two days i have to board that inevitable flight back to college… these hols were simply the best and i really really don’t want them to end… i wish all life were hols

for the record, this was officially the best summer ever… may was one hell of a roller coaster ride and i loved all the twists, turns and loops ( the past 11 days ) june was a week in awesome andamans, a week in sultry yet oh-so-homely calcutta… and after cal, it was two glorious weeks at home… july, well, i’m still at home and rest latter half will, alas, be at insti…

what i did at home : read and read – digital fortress, deception point – both by dan brown, the devil and miss prym – paulo coelho, the cracking codebook – simon singh and halfway through ‘the adventures of feluda’ – satyajit ray…

dan brown,well, here’s the gist of the four books : one world disasterous situation… a maiden and her faithful scientist… one high class dude who wants to save the maiden because of senti reasons… and lethal killing troupe who are ruthless and have no idea who their employer is

paulo coelho is what ma calls too intellectual… you need to see as he ’sees’… his writings are vague yet i find them enjoyable… kind brings in a deeper aspect to your soul if you want to understand his writing, that is…

the cracking codebook – the history of cryptology, the evolution of ‘unbreakable’ ciphers… lost fame and recognition and wit at its very best… a MUST read for anyone who enjoyed dan brown and also others, even otherwise

feluda – a bengali detective, class apart – satyajit ray’s works of art come to life through his words ( though i’m reading the version translated to english cuz i ain’t that fluent in bangla )

and… i met up with a lot of friends with whom i didn’t think i’d ever meet up… painted bathroom tiles and kitchen tiles ceramic painting – the latest obsession for me

and ofcourse, conversations at 6pm

sums up the summer of 2008 was simply awesome

memories!

the first pic : its of the inside of the card whose outside is the last pic… coincidentally, mother’s day and my parents’ anniversary came in the same week in 2000…

the second pic : its the cover of the card i gave ma-baba on their anniversary in 1999…

i really don’t believe how i used to be… don’t know if you could term it audacious – the picture was supposed to personify my parents…. and the poem… i wrote that when i was eleven… i don’t even believe my own handwriting

 

in exactly one week…

• i shall meet mister pistachio for the first time in my life ever…
• i shall shiver for the first time in 10 months
• i shall eat ma’s cooked food – hot from the stove
• i shall exhale ’smoke’ in the cold
• i shall have to put my hands in my pockets to keep them warm but my poor nose shall stay cold
• i shall have the opportunity to snuggle beneath the covers – looking up at the moon
• i shall be back home…

my ma

everyday, when i wake up and wash my face, i remember how ma looks when she does the same… the hair a mess, her clothes creased, the water drops clinging to her eyelashes and skin… her gold bangles clinking as she moves her hands from underneath the tap to her face… she wipes her face ever so gently… comes out and stands in front of the mirror… combs her hair… puts cream on her face… checks for her ‘teep’ which is invariably stuck to her nose… and she is up again, ready to face one more day – strong and supple… she is my ma… and that is how she is – simple and unassuming… always smiling for me…

diwali… alone…?

this is the first time in my life i’m going to spend diwali – the festival of lights – alone… alone in this hostel room, with no one to talk to and no one who’s voice i can hear… had gone home for pujo and going back in december after the sem ends… so it was unreasonable to make three trips in three months…

but decided to get some diyas and light them on the sill of the corridor outside my room… just atleast to have my ‘place’ lighted on this auspicious day – as after all, light is the main element in diwali…

back home, baba and i go diya shopping the previous day… buy about a 100 diyas… we’ come home – he washes them and i lay them out to dry in the afternoon autumn sunshine – arranging them on about 4-5 big thalis and trays… then, on diwali morning, baba and i make ’sholte’ all morning… and in the afternoon, after lunch and having bathed, we lay them out on big trays, absolutely ready to be laid on the verandah sill – just oil to be poured…

in particular, there is this silver diya which i don’t know from where we got… but, that one, i insist, be lighted with ghee and be placed on my study table, near my books… that silver diya burns all night…

on diwali evening… around 7 (sunset happens around 6 at chandigarh during the beginning of november) i pour the oil in all the diyas… and baba helps me… he takes the tray while i evenly space the diyas as i lay them… and always, the wind keeps on extinguishing the diyas on one side of the house (we have a verandah at the back of the house as well as the front)… that is frustrating but i go check on my diyas every fifteen minutes, a lighted candle at the ready to light an extinguished one…

after the diyas are all laid out, i light candles between the diyas… and since we live on the second floor, i keep some of the diyas separately to be lit along the staircase… 40 steps to climb until i reach my home…four landings before every ten steps… i put three diyas on every landing…

ma comes in the evening… she works in this private clinic… she doesn’t have an off day on republic day, let alone diwali… she comes and the two of us make alpona… with zinc oxide powder, water and a johnson bud…

i miss all this,,, i’m almost crying as i type out this line… i want to call up my friends and wish them happy diwali… but somehow, i’ve lost of all of my friends to time and me – my enemy…

i miss being home… seing the buildings lighted… seeing every nook and cranny illuminated… the beautiful fireworks in the sky… i miss you baba… i miss you ma… i miss you gargi, ana and all the fun we used to have… i miss you all so much…

i miss…

• being alone…
• lying spreadeagled on the floor…
• getting lost in my dreams…
• singing out loud… playing songs full volume…
• standing on my balcony…
• looking out at the sky…
• staring at the moon… and the stars…
• admiring the shivaliks…
• talking to kalyani, gargi, ana…
• taking walks beneath the laburnums…
• helping ma out in the kitchen
• making weird things out of weird ingredients
• cooking my own food… the way i like it…
• laughing… going crazy… literally…
• my space…
• taking long baths…
• going to eat out with ma baba…
• visiting debu uncle, ray jethu… bubu didi… jethu jethima..
• food! mom’s cooked food!
• the clouds – cirrus, stratus, cumulus… (i’m tired of nimbus)

and well… not worrying about recharging the phone cuz the landline’s free for me