Walking towards mystery

As I stepped out of work, the thick fog enveloped me. The fog had a rather yellow glow from the streetlights, but the nearest lamppost was barely visible. Then everything faded out beyond. It looked lonely and mysterious. It touched a chord in my memory and brought back one mysterious foggy night.

Some while ago, Blaž and I had decided to go for a night walk around midnight. The moonlight had made everything silver and mesmerizing, and we just decided to go out on the whim. We quickly dressed up in the warmer clothes. After putting on the reflective bands and taking the small bicycle lights, we set out. We would make the usual loop walking by the nearby hill to the main road, then walk on our bridge over the highway towards the ‘barje’ swamps, and then return back home.

There was quite a chill in the air, and everything was glowing silver. Wow, it looked pretty! Although there were clouds and fog, the moonlight had still managed to seep through and soak everything in its silver hue. The fog glowed in a silvery brilliance, playing with light and shadows. It all created a sort of mystic element.

The nearby hill looked magical. The trees were bare and dry leaves carpeted the floor. A layer of frost covered the leaves giving the floor an unnatural white color and rugged appearance. The fog shone in the moonlight, the frosty dry carpet of leaves reflected it. The silhouette of the empty trees had some sort of halo around them. The emptiness of this appearance was almost haunting, overpowering and engulfing the existence of everything else. It was beautifully haunting. It was mystic, ghostly, and mesmerizing all at the same time.

As we stepped on the main road, it was surprisingly not very empty considering the time. Often a car would pass us. However, it was not visible. We would only hear the faint sound and see the fog in front turning a deeper shade of orange before the car would actually pass by. Even though the fog was a tad bit lighter than by the hill, the visibility was not much better. We decided to go down on unpaved part by the side of the road rather than walking on the edge like usual. Like the cars, despite of our reflective bands and lights, we were also in visible. ‘Wow, what a fog!’ I exclaimed. We could see from the main road, how it had thickened over the swamps spreading out in a dark band. A dark envelope that was unwelcoming and yet inviting in a sense.

Generally, on our walks like these, we walk on the main road until the bridge that goes over the highway on the other side towards the swamps. We like to call it ‘our bridge’. Typically, after walking across the bridge we make a pause by the swamp. Unless we are looking for frogs and night insects, we do not go much around the swamps at night. We then turn towards home, this time taking the other side and completing the loop. And that night also, we were tracing our usual path, and soon reached the bridge.

And we stood there amazed and awed! It was so unbelievably thick fog! Much thicker than we had assumed it to be. The bridged had started, but then it just had disappeared into nothing. We could not see it end. We could not see it at all. Everything beyond a few steps was veiled and kept hidden. There was just this silvery mystic nothingness beckoning us to indulge in its beauty and secrecy. And though, we had crossed the bridge an uncountable number of times before, that day we stepped on to cross it towards something unknown and alien.

As we walked further on the bridge, a sort of void slowly swallowed us. Nothing around was visible. We could hardly see any orange glow of the streetlights or car headlights down on the highway. The sound from the street was also masked somehow. It gave such an eerie feeling.  At the same time, there was some air of mystery and content all around. There was this thrill of going somewhere unknown, and to venture beyond the comfort zone. Everything about the bridge is familiar to us. Yet that night, it was all unknown.

And as I made another step with this hint of uneasiness inside me, I realized how in a similar way each day I venture towards the unknown mysteries of life. As I wake up each morning, I wake up with some plans for the day. Generally, nothing out of the ordinary happens. I know what to expect and the days seem familiar to me. I feel I know them. However, in reality everything beyond the present point is actually under the veil of obscurity. It is only that, except some days, I know what waits beyond. I continue to remain assured in this cocoon of illusion. However, in reality, every day I walk across the bridge.

I stood there with Blaž. Holding hands. Silent. Wrapped in mystery and thoughts. Drenched in the moonlight seeping through the fog. It was beautiful, unknown, mystic, eerie, engulfing, melancholic, happy, romantic, peaceful, void, satisfying, mesmerizing.. It was everything. Everything at the same time. It just made my heart happy. Maybe that is what it is all about..

A.. hmm... Happy Sunday!

The morning did not promise anything good. I woke up from a not particularly good sleep. I generally sleep well, and do not feel good enough when it is not so. There was no promising sunshine outside. Well, I was not expecting any. I have learnt to somehow accept this cloudy foggy autumn-winter weather. However, when the sky outside reflects no sense of cheeriness, the gray mood of mine turned grayer. I turned on the light. I hate to do that during daytime, and I dislike the almost darkish room more. ‘Ah, maybe I should just be in bed for fifteen more minutes’. And those fifteen minutes ticked towards thirty. ‘Okay, it is a better idea to get up’.

After refreshing myself, I took the pile of clothes downstairs for washing. I arranged the washed dishes from last night back in the shelves. And then, I just sat on my bed, restless and disconcerted. I was longing to somehow hide in the blanket again. Hide from all the unpleasantness and agitation. But I should not do that. It would just pull me into the loop. If I would waste the whole day feeling low and doing nothing, I would feel worse in the evening for wasting the day. I gathered courage and pulled myself up.

‘Why am I so restless?’ I wondered. ‘Maybe all the stress and Blaž not being in Ljubljana is making me like this’. Ah, the sense of missing him renewed. It is not that we are together all the time or meeting every day. It is not that he is never out of town due to work. But this time when he was on this business trip, I really missed him. We both have these days very hectic. However, talking with him for a minute in a way relaxes me always and renews the lacking energy. I was missing him. And all the work, stress, and worries got hold of me.

‘Well, he is coming back today and you can give him a call at night dear girl. So, now smile’. I went to the kitchen counter to make a glass of fresh lemonade and prepared the golden apple and clementines for breakfast. I switched on the computer. I always check the newspaper first thing after switching on the computer. Especially so on Sunday. There are these supplement Sunday articles which are always interesting. The essay in the Bengali newspaper was by one of my favorite Bengali authors of scientific essays for general people. It was fascinating to read how the Quark, J/Ψ, and God particles obtained their names. The English magazine had a good article on Vietnamese cuisine. I saved it to try out some ideas later. I was already feeling better.

I took out the packet of smelt fish from the freezer to let it thaw for lunch. I had planned to make them in Bengali style chochhorri. That reminded me to call mother and ask her the exact recipe. It is sometimes funny to realize that life is so easy with internet. I can just give a call to my mother in Kolkata and prepare her recipe sitting thousand kilometers apart following her instructions. In the meantime my clothes were done. I checked a few other things on the internet, prepared my bag for work tomorrow. I was fiddling with the idea of writing, reading, or hm.. something else? ‘Maybe I should really try my hands in acrylic painting’.

I love drawing and painting. Unfortunately, I never had a formal training and therefore do not know much techniques. I try to learn and do a bit on my own. I read a bit online. Try to copy in my own way some pictures I like. And the rest I just try. It gives me pleasure and makes me happy. I had received this set of acrylic paints last Christmas. I had studied a bit online regarding basic techniques. I had all the supplies. So today, I wished to try paint this simple flower that I had seen once online. It would be a small and simple drawing. I also decided to do it on drawing paper instead of canvas. ‘Let me once try my hands and then maybe I can try on canvas,’ I thought. I am miserable with water paints, and did not have much hope from this medium also.

I like working sitting on the floor and accordingly covered the carpet, and arranged all my supplies around the workspace. I opened the window a bit for ventilation, though I loved the smell of the paints. I hesitantly started with my work. With a few trials and tries, I sort of became a bit comfortable. However, I had not really understood the ‘allowing the paint to dry’ part. I tried to apply the yellow on the red, and it was hard. The color was not getting on as I would like it to. It was somehow slipping away. Even though it was ‘dry’ to me, it wasn’t dry enough. Quickly I realized the problem and increased my drying times. In between, I picked up the book I was reading. I cleaned the fishes. I had two spoons of my favorite sweet I had made last evening...

The painting was in its half way towards completion. It was lunchtime. I decided to let it dry, and in meantime cook and eat. I gave a call to Blaž’s mother, and talked a bit. She was also about to start cooking. I was quite looking forward to this simple and spicy fish preparation. The only mistake I did, I had put all the fish in the oil for frying at the same time. Instantly I realized the blunder. But well, it couldn’t be corrected then. ‘Hm, I have to cook it again to have a nice picture for my blog’. And, that is never a problem. The taste wouldn’t be compromised and I was happy for that. Steaming rice and some spicy fish. What can be a better food for a Bengali? I enjoyed in those delicious senses.

I left the dishes for later and went back to my painting. A few more sittings and it was finally finished. I gave a satisfied look to my work. ‘Not bad for the first time’. It did almost turned out as I had envisioned it. I got busy with cleaning the brushes and putting back the things. Then, holding the picture in hand, I sat. I was becoming happier and happier. I really couldn’t believe I had managed to do so satisfactorily. I for sure knew I would have to leave it in the middle. And there I sat, holding it with the pleased smile. I knew there were many mistakes. But I had at least learnt something. I was excited about that. So much excited that I decided to sit with yet another one. Well, this time I chose to do a simple dry pastel work that I had in mind for long long time.

My fingers were covered in gray dust when the phone rang. Blaž’s grandma was calling. We happily chatted for a few minutes. She told me about some new cookie book and her plans for Christmas cookies. And I eagerly was telling her how we would make them together. Then happily, I went back to my drawing. This one was very simple with a simple idea. However, it is always gratifying to see the ideas translate on papers.

I was so excited that urged to show them to someone. Especially my first acrylic painting. So I called my parents and asked them to come on skype. And as my dad excitedly started, ‘okay, we have something to show you..’. I just had to cut him in between to say, ‘me first’. First, I showed the simple dry pastel drawing. ‘Oh, good. You drew after a long time’. ‘Yes, and it is just the starter’. Then, I happily revealed my flower.  Smiling at their appreciation, I was excitedly telling them all the details. Next, it was their turn. They had just returned from the handicraft fair and showed me the big vase, little figurines etc they had bought. We happily discussed about all things nice.

After talking to them, I tried to call my grandma. Sadly it did not work. Ah, I must talk to her soon. I miss her. I read a bit of my book. Heated the dinner, which was of course again the fish and rice from morning. I packed the lunch for tomorrow and did things here and there.

I again sat at the computer. This time, to watch the latest episode of a cookery show. I was watching the last part when I heard the bell ring. Well, no one really comes to me without my knowing beforehand! Surprised I went towards the door. As I unlocked, I saw none. I was only about to close the door thinking I had heard something else, when I heard Blaž!! He had moved away a bit and was talking to someone.. I wasn’t expecting him to come at all to my place. He was tired and had things to do at home. I knew I would see him on Tuesday. And there he was standing at the door! Surprised and happy happy I was. As he always says, my face was smiling and glowing. ‘I am so happy, and I missed you’, I said as I hugged him tight.

All reasons to smile!

I was soo happy! The silly smiling face of his can make me relaxed and merry always. He had brought me a big pack of kinder eggs chocolate. Oh, how I love getting those tiny gifts inside the kinder eggs. ‘Make me a glass of menthol or lemon drink please. No menthol’. We talked a bit about his trip and about what I was doing over the days. We discussed some Christmas plans a bit, and others. I showed him my drawings. And the new ‘Cats in crisis’ poster from National Geographic. I heated for him some chicken I had cooked yesterday. And packed the other little tit bits I had kept for him to taste. He saw the new photo-frame I had got in the picnic yesterday. I showed him some pictures. And all the time I was blabbering gleefully like always. He went home after a short visit; poor tired him. 

 It is the end of the day and the melancholy is replaced by the bright happy radiance. 

It wasn’t so bad a Sunday after all. I used acrylic painting for the first time with pleasing outcome. In the excitement, I drew something else too. I had interesting articles to read in newspaper. I cooked and ate some typical Bengali food that I was missing for a long time. I talked to my parents about things nice. And the cherry on the cake, Blaž surprised me with his little visit. Also, I got this big pack of kinder eggs. Now I am writing about my day all cheery. And then, I will go to bed with my book. Smiling I will sleep into the dreamland. It was good actually. Very good!

A very happy Sunday!!

Let's turn on the lights!!

Yesterday we turned on the lights!! The city in its brilliance and glitter is now anticipating the festive days. The sparkling lights have also made the faces around radiant with smiles.

Switching on the lights is my favorite event in December Ljubljana. All these days on way to work and around, I saw how slowly they were putting up the lights and the huge Christmas tree at the city center.  Finally, yesterday, all the city got lit up with these sparkling dots. The lights are turned on every year on 3 December, the birth anniversary of France Prešeren, the national poet of Slovenia. There is a little ceremony at the Prešeren statute in the city center. And then, with the countdown, the lights turn on.

Yesterday afternoon I quickly dressed myself up and was all set to go out. Even though this time a sudden increase in the temperatures had made the standing and waiting for the lights less chilly, it had also brought the rains. So, I grabbed my umbrella and stepped out. At the bus stop, it was an unusual spectacle. There was such a big crowd! It was even bigger than the morning rush hours. The bus came. And it was impossible to get in. I boarded the next bus that would take me a couple of stops before my destination. I decided to walk that little distance.

The drizzles and downpour could not dampen the mood. The entire city was directed towards the city center. Young people with cheerful chatters and happy company walked on. They had plans for party the whole evening. Young couple walked hand-in-hand. It was a nice romantic and cheery evening. Children walked holding hands of parents. In little woolen caps, their faces were filled with glee. They knew Santa Claus is coming soon. Even elders weren’t at home. In their feeble steps, they walked towards the merry city center. And I was also another pair of happy feet and glowing face in that crowd.

Slowly I made my way to some favorable spot by the Three-bridges. It was a bit difficult to find the space, especially because of the rain. Everything was covered with open umbrellas and it was annoying to walk through the crowd trying to find a spot from where I would have a nice view of the tree and the decorations. I was in such a dilemma. Should I keep the umbrella open, or should I just close it? The rain was not just a little drizzle. I did not wish to get wet and catch the cold back. But it was so difficult to have an open umbrella! Ahh..

The little crowded city center by Ljubljanica River was all covered with darkness, except the Prešeren statue. It was lit up and decorated. The ceremony started.

The city mayor addressed the crowd. And there were famous songs performed by musical groups from schools. It is so happy an event to see all the people singing. The music played and the crowd sang along. Happy music and happy chatters. They recited some known poetry. Poetry about lights, and happiness, and festivity. The music, the cheer, the crowd, the glowing statue amidst all dark, it was so beautiful and magical. And my heart sang along with the melody.

Finally, it was time for what we were waiting. Ljudje, prižgimo luč! People, let’s turn on the light!

Everyone was excited. All the cameras, video recorders, and mobile phones were ready. All eyes were fixed at the dark city profile.

Ten.. Nine.. Eight.. Seven.. Six.. Five.. Four.. Threee.. Twoo..

Oneeeee..

And it is all glowing! The Christmas tree and church at Ljubljana city center

And the lights turn on.. Everyone bursts out into the loudest ‘Yaaaaa’.. The festivity is announced..

The Christmas tree gets covered with yellow sparkles. And there appear out of nowhere stars and spheres, and the spirals of galaxies. The theme is same always. It represents the vastness of the universe in all the solar systems, galaxies and stars. And it also shows the speck of life, the DNA in its double helical glory.  Some children were even lighting those sprinkling crackers. The winter fair also started. Little shops with food and trinkets lined the riverbank. The smell of sugar roasted almonds, cooked wine, cinnamon was in the air. The smell of winter. The smell of festivity. Everyone was ecstatic. I walked around in that cheerful crowd. Everything looked happy. And it was like a little fairytale.

I am always fascinated by lights.  Especially when darkness lights up in bright specks of happiness. This is the reason I love Mahalaya, to witness the break of beautiful autumn dawn announcing the greatest festivals in Bengal. This is why I went to the city center. To countdown, and see the lights glow all around me. Festivals for me are all about being happy, being surrounded by people, and enjoying all the good and positive things of life. And this transformation from dark to bright in a magical and mystic way always represents the essence of festivity to me. It made my little heart flutter with happiness. I love those lights.

As I took the steps towards home, I looked back once more. The city was glowing. I stood and looked on, letting everything seep down deep in me. The happy lights of promises.. The happy sounds of festivity.. The happy smell of winter.. The happy me..

Through the window..

I took my eyes off the glaring computer screen and looked out through the window. It gives the well-deserved rest to my tired eyes working whole day in front of the computer. The little window in my office frames a pine tree, roofs of the nearby houses, the grey façade of some ministry building and then some more trees beyond. However today, the picture had turned unfamiliar. Each detail had vanished in the dense fog. For a moment, I was confused. ‘What is happening outside?’ Somehow as the familiar sight outside hazed out, a hint of unfamiliarity crept inside me. Even though everything was just the same, the fact that I was unable to see the familiar objects through my window made me somewhat placed in an unfamiliar environment. I realized, not just the arrangement of furniture or the color of the wall, what I see when I look through the window also forms a part of the familiarity where I feel comfortable every day.

I now know why my grandma’s dining room window is not as special to me for past few years. As a child, I used to sit there for hours, running between kitchen and the dining room window as my grandma was busy preparing some delicious meal in the kitchen. I would feed the crows in the morning. Look out at the garden, the blooming flowers, ripening fruits and birds that used to come. I would count the coconuts in the tree and admire the slender smooth trunk of the betelnut tree. Sometimes I would sit there with my drawing supplies and take inspiration from the garden. During hot lazy afternoons, grandma and I would sit there for endless chats. Beyond the garden there used to be this huge empty land. In monsoon days, boys from the camp would play there football and other games. I always wondered how one reached there. A fenced plot was nearby, covered in a thicket and different trees. That window was a place for lazy dreamy wandering of a childish heart.

I do not know when it exactly happened, but slowly everything changed. I grew up and along the time, the world outside that window changed. Grandma’s age did not allow her to take care of the garden so much anymore. However, the most prominent change was the building of the houses in those empty lands beyond the gardens. The openness that the window used to offer shrank to the garden only, limited by all the concrete around. Always used to see the coconut tree against the green background, it was a drastic change to see it now against the huge apartment building. Even the sky shrank in its limits. I was no longer always able to see the trails of the airplanes as they crossed above us. Maybe I never took time to familiarize myself with the changed picture. The increasing works in school did not allow me to spend most of the summer holidays with grandma. Nevertheless, I do not really think that is the reason. Through the window, I used to get a vast canvas to paint with lazy thoughts and wanderings. The limited and altered view also limited the comfort and warmth associated with it. The window was never the same.

Our house in India had some vacant plots all around, ready for houses to be built, but somehow still empty. And in the meantime wild climbers and bushes had taken the place of the houses. There were birds and little animals all around. My windows overlooked to two such empty plots of both sides of the house. I remember the long hours we spent sitting on the window the first time Blaž visited home. He got introduced to common tropical plants through that window. Last time we visited, there was a house standing in that place blocking all the view. How many times we exclaimed “Ah, we miss the window”.. The changed view outside changed something about the window. It is no longer familiar.

This spring while working in San Francisco, the first thing that made me feel comfortable in my rented room was the window. It overlooked the garden. I would come back to the room after a tiring day; and more than the things in the room, the similar view through the window made me feel at ease in that place. In a temporary accommodation, I do not feel associated with the furniture and arrangement of things in the room. It is the view outside the window that I relate to more easily. The view outside gives me some sense of belonging to the place, even if temporary. And so it did. Looking at the buildings and the expanding sea beyond from my work-desk is what made the desk my own for the three months.

We are most comfortable in our own space. A space that is familiar to us in all its little elements. That gives us all the warmth and security of belonging. That not only just defines the space but somehow us too. The arrangement of furniture, the little colorful corner of books, the little things and pictures on my desk, the orchid plant, all my spices in a row, the train picture on the wall, and even the little red wall clock, all these make my apartment mine. It can be not prim and proper always, but because I know everything in that mess, I do not feel like an intruder. When I come to work, I come to what I had left the day before. I can easily fit back into it.  However, things are not the only elements to define a place. The family at home and the colleagues at work, they bring the smiles and create the memories in those places I call my own. And then, there is the window. I look out in a solitary moment, I take a break, I admire a pretty view, or I simply check the weather. All these while I am assured that I will look out at the same buildings, the same plants, the same square of sky. The constancy of the view outside gives a sense of stability to the little world of mine inside the room. A change somehow creates confusion, and an eerie feeling seeps in unconsciously. 

It takes me a few days to get familiar with a changed arrangement in my closet. It takes even longer to look out with the eyes of familiarity at a changed view outside my window. And sometimes that never happens. The change slowly makes the place itself foreign for me. I fell back into the comfort zone instantaneously realizing it to be only a temporary veil of fog hiding the known view from me. I could never get used to the changed picture outside my childhood windows. My happy memories simply do not fit in there any more..