It was ‘Sashthi’ yesterday. It marks the beginning of Durga Puja. Though the festive mood sets in the city and the crowds gather from quite some time ago; with the ‘Bodhon’ of sashthi the goddess comes to her paternal home. Amidst Sanskrit chanting, flowers and incense, the goddess is welcomed. And as the rhythm of the ‘dhak’ gets louder and more captive, our happiness grows. Dressed in best we set out. It is the beginning of five days, and of course nights, of fun and festivity. The brightly decorated and immensely crowded city begins to celebrate!
I was thinking about the first day of puja yesterday, missing it a bit, and yet feeling so happy. After all it is puja!! And then I realize how this first day of puja was also the day when I ‘for the first time’ ventured out alone or cooked a main course or did something..
It is a different situation in India, especially when one lives in a crowded city like Calcutta. Children there do not go out alone on the roads without responsible supervision. The crowds, and traffic and all other possible dangers make the parents hold the hand of the child as the child steps out to the world. It is hard to imagine a situation like this in a different society or even in a calmer town of India. But in Calcutta, this is what it is. Children do not go out alone. Similarly, when I was little, I was also not allowed to go out alone except in the community playgrounds in the afternoons. Of course this did not count the time when I dared to escape out along with my brother (I was the ‘responsible’ elder sister), took a rickshaw, and went to the gas station.
I was around 9 then. It was sashthi. And already in the morning I was dressed up in my new dress. Ma was getting bhai (brother) ready. Someone was going to take us out to see the nearby pandals. It was the first day of puja and we could barely wait. And then came the surprise… Ma said, bhai and me could go alone to the nearest pandal, and only to that. Yahoooo!! I could barely believe what I heard and was impatient to step out before she changed her mind. I hurried out of the house grabbing my brother’s hand. Ma from behind was telling me to always hold bhai’s hand, cross the road carefully, and to NOT go anywhere else. Who cared?! I was out alone for the first time (well, with permission this time). I was given the responsibility of my brother on the roads. I was so excited. I felt so proud and grown up. I am sure I was inches ‘taller’. Holding bhai’s hand, I looked back to wave to ma and then turned the corner.
No sooner was ma out of sight that I revealed my plan to bhai. When we were allowed to get out alone, then why to go only to the nearest pandal and wait for the rest till the evening? I knew the way around and decided to go to all close by pandals. ‘Instead of just going to the nearest pandal, we would make the usual circle of the area and see all the pandals’, I told my brother. He was a bit skeptical about if I really knew the way. And with my assurance, he readily agreed. And I am sure he was also thrilled within. So we proudly went around visiting all the five pandals of the area. Excitedly we talked about how beautiful all looked. Thrilled about how we would proudly declare our little adventure at home. And then thinking, maybe, we should just say we were for long only at the pandal where we were actually allowed to go.
We were almost at the end of our adventure and was about to turn to the main road that leads to our community when I heard some beating of dhak further ahead. I remembered, long back dad had taken us once to some pandal there. Somehow I remembered we just need to go straight to reach it. And I told bhai, ‘let’s go to it too’! He was now tired and quite skeptical as he sensed I was not sure about the location. But, nevertheless, agreed. And anyway, I was the ‘boss’. So we set ahead. And walked and walked and walked. Now as I remember, maybe we had barely walked maybe 5-6 minutes. But we were little then. And unknown roads, especially when I was not sure about the destination, seemed longer to us. Bhai was already getting nervous. But I proposed to walk on a bit further before turning back. And then he replied, ‘Okay, we walk. But if we get lost, and the police are able to find us, then I am going to put the blame on you’!!! I smiled and agreed. Of course, we would not be lost! But alas, we could not find the place though we were able to hear the dhak all along. And we decided to head back home.
Back at home, I triumphantly declared to ma, ‘Guess where we went? We saw all the pandals’!!! She acted surprised; and then smiled and said that she guessed it when we were out for so long. Soon we got busy describing our adventure and the beautiful pandals and idols. And from then on, it was a ritual every year to go out in the sashthi morning and visit all the nearby puja pandals..
It was the first time I went alone. And not just alone, I was given the responsibility of someone. I felt responsible and grown up. It was special. And till today I remember it..
The second ‘for the first time’ happened when I was in the high school. Cooking was always my interest and especially making something new. However, I was always only making snacks or something small. Maybe baked a cake or cookies, made something fried. I never ventured to cook the main course. But, that year for puja I decided to cook the main course all the five days. And parents readily agreed. Eagerly I decided a menu and asked my dad to bring the ingredients. The first day, sashthi, had some kind of dry chicken preparation on the menu. Parents had to go to work, the holidays beginning from the next day. I was supposed to cook it for dinner. We had planned an early dinner and then would go out pandal hopping in the city for the whole night. Ma had warned me to be careful about the fire and told to call her if I needed anything.
Late in the afternoon, I started with my cooking. Onions were chopped, ginger and garlic was made into a paste. I took out all the spices and measured the required amounts. I took out the salt jar so that I would remember to add it in the end. The chicken was already cleaned. With my ingredients neatly ready, I had put the wok on fire. The oil got heated and I put in the spices. Soon, the air filled with the nice aroma and the crackling sound of the spices. Following the recipe diligently, I was busy adding ingredients and going through each step. It felt all so easy. And the initial overwhelming thought of cooking the main course was gone. By then, everything was done. I had to just wait for the chicken to get cooked and add the seasoning. And there, my dish would be ready!! I smiled and was proud a bit.
And then came the realization. I had no clue to know when the chicken is cooked. How would I know when it is done? I had no choice but to make this rescue call to ma. ‘Ma, I have put in everything, and all is good. But how do I know when the chicken is cooked??’ I muttered over the phone in confusion. She explained with a smile solving all my problems. Finally, then when it was almost cooked, I tried my ‘master chef’ tricks, and added quite an amount of black pepper.
At the dinner table that evening, it was a success. The chicken which was a bit too hot had this unique rustic taste. Everyone licked their fingers, and it was a hit. My first main course! It was perfect. And, so was all the other food I cooked during that holiday. From then on, often, I had the responsibility of preparing the meat dishes when some guests were coming.
The first day of Durga puja, along with it, brought these ‘for the first time’-s in my life. And that is what made it special. These were little milestones on life’s way that made me feel grown up, responsible and proud. And these ‘first times’ made the puja all the more happy and gave more reasons to celebrate.
So what I did ‘for the first time’ yesterday? I made rashogollas! The yummy spongy cheese balls in sugar syrup. The delicate and all famous Bengali dessert.
October 14, 2010
A new city. A home.
The morning was sleepy. Therefore, when Blaž wished me “Subho duto barsha”, “Happy two years” in his own Bengali, I was not sure about what he is referring to. It took me a few seconds to realize that today it is exactly two years I am in Slovenia. And instantly I went through the past two years that made this new country another home of mine.
It was sometime after 1 a.m. in the morning when my flight left the soil on India behind to touch a new land. Sad to leave home and anxious to go somewhere new, my heart was a mixture of different thoughts. It was so much work to make this happen. So many moments were spent in restless apprehension for this, that, finally when it was happening, I was too tired to feel anything at all. The last few days, even the last few hours, were spent busy packing, arranging documents etc etc. Along with that, I was apprehensive about the long journey. I simply wished to rest when I finally boarded the flight. I wished not to think or feel anything. Therefore, soon after the dinner was served, I closed my eyes, planning to get some sleep.
It was early in the morning when I woke up. Through the window, I saw the horizon in the heavenly colors of dawn. And finally for the first time after hours I actually realized I am happy. I had wished it so much; I had worked hard for it. There was this anxious and a bit sad feeling; but, in the end, I was happy and looking forward to the new chapter of my journey.
Looking to Slovenia from the sky was beautiful. The ranges of Alps looked beautiful. I loved the little valleys and stretches of green. I loved the autumn colors. The flight touched this new land. And suddenly, while waiting for my luggage, I was scared. I realized that, “this is it”. Scared, nervous and anxious, these were the only words defining my state of mind then. Nothing there was mine yet, it was all new. “I have left my home and am now in a land which is not my home”. This is what I thought. But only for a moment. And then eager to explore the new and make it my own, I stepped out.
As we were driving to the city, I relaxed. I looked around enjoying the beauty. I loved the trees in all shades from fiery red to pale green. I looked at the unfamiliar boards, the roads, the landscape, houses. Everything was so much interesting and so very different from that of India. I was calmer and interested; and by then I was being a tourist.
The initial impression about the country was good. I found it nice and friendly. But it was definitely something different in every aspect. They spoke a language I had no clue about. I could not make any sense out of the billboards, or did not know what to say if I cannot find something particular at the store. The roads were new and so was the right-handed driving. I did not know my way around except from work to home. The food was good but very different. I was meeting Blaz’s family. I was meeting new people at work. Starting with work and getting familiarized with the different work culture. Preparing some further documents. So many things were going on at the same time. And all the along, I was missing India, home. I was missing all things familiar. Coming to here was something I wished, but it was nevertheless hard to adjust.
A couple of months passed by and the winter set in. The city was covered in the blanket of fresh snow and Christmas lights glittered. I was already comfortable in the city. Roads were not anymore just new to me. I had a feeling about my way around. I knew a few words here and there that would help me get around. Work and school were going smooth and easy. I already had a routine of my own. I ventured to explore a bit or simply walk around in the evenings. Also by then I had visited a few parts of Slovenia. As I walked around in the festivity searching for Christmas gifts, I suddenly discovered myself feeling quite at home.
Two years passed by. I now know the city and quite a bit of the language. I know the buildings on my way to work from home. I know where to get particular things. I have my favorite stores, bookstore, ice-cream parlors, restaurants, etc. I know where I love walking most. I have discovered little books stores. I know about the yearly events that I like to attend. I have explored quite a lot of Slovenia in between, and I know my favorite places. I love to walk around in city center after work and visit my favorite bookstore. I love to come to the Saturday fresh market. I simply love the city, the country. And it feels all my own.
So, when I return to Ljubljana after a tiring work trip abroad, I feel glad and relaxed to be back. Not because it is more familiar; but because, it is my own. I feel happy to be back at the place which I call my home. I remember how I stepped out of the same airport two years back, all anxious. But, I cannot remember when I first started to feel at home. I do not know when slowly I have made this new place my own home.
Written on October 9, 2010; the day that marked two years of my coming to Slovenia.
It was sometime after 1 a.m. in the morning when my flight left the soil on India behind to touch a new land. Sad to leave home and anxious to go somewhere new, my heart was a mixture of different thoughts. It was so much work to make this happen. So many moments were spent in restless apprehension for this, that, finally when it was happening, I was too tired to feel anything at all. The last few days, even the last few hours, were spent busy packing, arranging documents etc etc. Along with that, I was apprehensive about the long journey. I simply wished to rest when I finally boarded the flight. I wished not to think or feel anything. Therefore, soon after the dinner was served, I closed my eyes, planning to get some sleep.
It was early in the morning when I woke up. Through the window, I saw the horizon in the heavenly colors of dawn. And finally for the first time after hours I actually realized I am happy. I had wished it so much; I had worked hard for it. There was this anxious and a bit sad feeling; but, in the end, I was happy and looking forward to the new chapter of my journey.
Looking to Slovenia from the sky was beautiful. The ranges of Alps looked beautiful. I loved the little valleys and stretches of green. I loved the autumn colors. The flight touched this new land. And suddenly, while waiting for my luggage, I was scared. I realized that, “this is it”. Scared, nervous and anxious, these were the only words defining my state of mind then. Nothing there was mine yet, it was all new. “I have left my home and am now in a land which is not my home”. This is what I thought. But only for a moment. And then eager to explore the new and make it my own, I stepped out.
As we were driving to the city, I relaxed. I looked around enjoying the beauty. I loved the trees in all shades from fiery red to pale green. I looked at the unfamiliar boards, the roads, the landscape, houses. Everything was so much interesting and so very different from that of India. I was calmer and interested; and by then I was being a tourist.
The initial impression about the country was good. I found it nice and friendly. But it was definitely something different in every aspect. They spoke a language I had no clue about. I could not make any sense out of the billboards, or did not know what to say if I cannot find something particular at the store. The roads were new and so was the right-handed driving. I did not know my way around except from work to home. The food was good but very different. I was meeting Blaz’s family. I was meeting new people at work. Starting with work and getting familiarized with the different work culture. Preparing some further documents. So many things were going on at the same time. And all the along, I was missing India, home. I was missing all things familiar. Coming to here was something I wished, but it was nevertheless hard to adjust.
A couple of months passed by and the winter set in. The city was covered in the blanket of fresh snow and Christmas lights glittered. I was already comfortable in the city. Roads were not anymore just new to me. I had a feeling about my way around. I knew a few words here and there that would help me get around. Work and school were going smooth and easy. I already had a routine of my own. I ventured to explore a bit or simply walk around in the evenings. Also by then I had visited a few parts of Slovenia. As I walked around in the festivity searching for Christmas gifts, I suddenly discovered myself feeling quite at home.
Two years passed by. I now know the city and quite a bit of the language. I know the buildings on my way to work from home. I know where to get particular things. I have my favorite stores, bookstore, ice-cream parlors, restaurants, etc. I know where I love walking most. I have discovered little books stores. I know about the yearly events that I like to attend. I have explored quite a lot of Slovenia in between, and I know my favorite places. I love to walk around in city center after work and visit my favorite bookstore. I love to come to the Saturday fresh market. I simply love the city, the country. And it feels all my own.
So, when I return to Ljubljana after a tiring work trip abroad, I feel glad and relaxed to be back. Not because it is more familiar; but because, it is my own. I feel happy to be back at the place which I call my home. I remember how I stepped out of the same airport two years back, all anxious. But, I cannot remember when I first started to feel at home. I do not know when slowly I have made this new place my own home.
Written on October 9, 2010; the day that marked two years of my coming to Slovenia.
October 8, 2010
It is Mahalaya
It was raining the whole week. And though yesterday morning at least did not welcome with a rainy face; it was cloudy, gloomy. I had much things scheduled to do at work. After the work I had language class. It was supposed to be a long tiring day. And yet it was different in every sense.
I was thousands of miles away. I had nothing around me that reminded of this particular time. And yet I remembered. And yet my mind was fleeting and my heart happy. It was not there and still I felt it all around me. I felt the mirth. As I said, it was a different day.
It was Mahalaya, marking the beginning of ‘Debi Pakhha’ and of our greatest festival. The Durga Puja. And therefore, it had to be different even when I was thousands of kilometers away from all the fun without any hint of the festivity around me.
Mahalaya has its own religious traditions. But each Bengali associates it with something completely different than what is just religious. Mahalaya for most of us is synonymous to Mahishashuramardini. Undoubtedly one of the most successful programs aired on the radio ever. First played in early 1930s by All India Radio, it is still aired on the same day for all these years and decades. And almost every Bengali diligently listens to it at 4 a.m. of the crisp chilly autumn morning. Chanting of Chandi Slokas by Birendra Krishna Bhadra marks the beginning of our greatest festival.
I do not have memory of listening to the Mahalaya for the first time. I just know I have listened to it all my life, and will continue doing so. I remember the radio on the central dining table of the old home all ready already the night before. The old tape deck would also be ready with the cassettes. Sharp at 4 a.m. both would be switched on in their full volume and the deep voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra would echo through the rooms telling the story of the Goddess. At the same time all other houses around would resonate to the same welcome of the Goddess. I would wake up to the ‘Agomoni’ songs.
It would be a bit coldish in those eerie morning hours. Snuggling in a thin shawl or blanket I would settle myself on the sofa. Listening intently I would let each word seep in my soul and vibrate there. I would not understand everything of the Sanskrit or the complex poetic Bengali back then. And yet it would move something somewhere deep in me. I could perfectly associate with it even back then when I was little. It filled my soul with happiness and exuberance. It brought smiles to each face around. The goddess is coming with her four children; and bringing along with her all exhilaration, fun and merry. It is Durga Puja.
As a little girl I would fall asleep sometime in between the long Mahalaya. I always tried hard to stay awake. And when I could not, I would just pretend in the end I was actually awake. But every time I fell asleep, I was sad a bit within to miss the parts. I waited for it the whole year. I would wake up again as the ardent chanting of Slokas grew faster towards the last parts. The day breaking as good wins over evil. A very different fresh crisp new morning with its air filled with festivity.
Each year I wait for the Mahalaya and I wait for this morning. I associate with it rather philosophically than religiously. But in the end these terms and classification does not really matter. Every year as I listen to it welcoming the eternal all-giving power, I feel calling my true self and all positivity within me. The whole ambiance is created and filled with this very strong positive connotation; and mirth, festivity feels the air. Every time I simply feel good within myself and all around me. A very happy feeling it is always.
I welcome the new morning with a radiant smile. The delicate blue sky, with only a few cotton clouds floating across. The green around me fresh and brilliant from the last rains. The reddish orange sun. I touch the golden sunbeams warming my heart. I smell the fresh air. I remember each time without fail how festivity smells in the air. I smile. My mind is fleeting, my heart happy, and I am feeling Puja. The little me would run barefoot on the grass to pick the gentle smelling ‘shuili’ flowers that fell on the ground heavy with dew the previous night. The dewdrops still glittering. I would shake the tree to let those little specks of happiness shower on me.
It did not matter that yesterday it was not yet dawn when the Mahalaya ended. The days are already shorter in this part of the world; and clouds made it darker. It did not matter that all the houses around did not reverberate with the familiar Slokas and songs. It did not matter that I was far away from all the festivity. I still smelled the festivity in the air. Mirth was all around me. I was delighted and cheerful. I was happy. And I smiled radiantly.
My mind did float away to my land. I imagined with impatient anxiety all the preparations going around there at every corner. I missed every little thing. But, no matter what, I was happy and radiant. My soul was a cheerful mixture of excitement and tranquil. And the sun finally did shine breaking through the clouds as the day was almost about to end.
I realized all over again that no matter where I am, I will always feel the same on Mahalaya. Everything else just makes it merrier. But this fluttering happiness that Mahalaya brings deep inside me is so much an inherent part of the person I am that it will remain the same always. Wherever I am, it will remain constant.
It is Mahalaya. And this is what it always is.
I was thousands of miles away. I had nothing around me that reminded of this particular time. And yet I remembered. And yet my mind was fleeting and my heart happy. It was not there and still I felt it all around me. I felt the mirth. As I said, it was a different day.
It was Mahalaya, marking the beginning of ‘Debi Pakhha’ and of our greatest festival. The Durga Puja. And therefore, it had to be different even when I was thousands of kilometers away from all the fun without any hint of the festivity around me.
Mahalaya has its own religious traditions. But each Bengali associates it with something completely different than what is just religious. Mahalaya for most of us is synonymous to Mahishashuramardini. Undoubtedly one of the most successful programs aired on the radio ever. First played in early 1930s by All India Radio, it is still aired on the same day for all these years and decades. And almost every Bengali diligently listens to it at 4 a.m. of the crisp chilly autumn morning. Chanting of Chandi Slokas by Birendra Krishna Bhadra marks the beginning of our greatest festival.
I do not have memory of listening to the Mahalaya for the first time. I just know I have listened to it all my life, and will continue doing so. I remember the radio on the central dining table of the old home all ready already the night before. The old tape deck would also be ready with the cassettes. Sharp at 4 a.m. both would be switched on in their full volume and the deep voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra would echo through the rooms telling the story of the Goddess. At the same time all other houses around would resonate to the same welcome of the Goddess. I would wake up to the ‘Agomoni’ songs.
It would be a bit coldish in those eerie morning hours. Snuggling in a thin shawl or blanket I would settle myself on the sofa. Listening intently I would let each word seep in my soul and vibrate there. I would not understand everything of the Sanskrit or the complex poetic Bengali back then. And yet it would move something somewhere deep in me. I could perfectly associate with it even back then when I was little. It filled my soul with happiness and exuberance. It brought smiles to each face around. The goddess is coming with her four children; and bringing along with her all exhilaration, fun and merry. It is Durga Puja.
As a little girl I would fall asleep sometime in between the long Mahalaya. I always tried hard to stay awake. And when I could not, I would just pretend in the end I was actually awake. But every time I fell asleep, I was sad a bit within to miss the parts. I waited for it the whole year. I would wake up again as the ardent chanting of Slokas grew faster towards the last parts. The day breaking as good wins over evil. A very different fresh crisp new morning with its air filled with festivity.
Each year I wait for the Mahalaya and I wait for this morning. I associate with it rather philosophically than religiously. But in the end these terms and classification does not really matter. Every year as I listen to it welcoming the eternal all-giving power, I feel calling my true self and all positivity within me. The whole ambiance is created and filled with this very strong positive connotation; and mirth, festivity feels the air. Every time I simply feel good within myself and all around me. A very happy feeling it is always.
I welcome the new morning with a radiant smile. The delicate blue sky, with only a few cotton clouds floating across. The green around me fresh and brilliant from the last rains. The reddish orange sun. I touch the golden sunbeams warming my heart. I smell the fresh air. I remember each time without fail how festivity smells in the air. I smile. My mind is fleeting, my heart happy, and I am feeling Puja. The little me would run barefoot on the grass to pick the gentle smelling ‘shuili’ flowers that fell on the ground heavy with dew the previous night. The dewdrops still glittering. I would shake the tree to let those little specks of happiness shower on me.
It did not matter that yesterday it was not yet dawn when the Mahalaya ended. The days are already shorter in this part of the world; and clouds made it darker. It did not matter that all the houses around did not reverberate with the familiar Slokas and songs. It did not matter that I was far away from all the festivity. I still smelled the festivity in the air. Mirth was all around me. I was delighted and cheerful. I was happy. And I smiled radiantly.
My mind did float away to my land. I imagined with impatient anxiety all the preparations going around there at every corner. I missed every little thing. But, no matter what, I was happy and radiant. My soul was a cheerful mixture of excitement and tranquil. And the sun finally did shine breaking through the clouds as the day was almost about to end.
I realized all over again that no matter where I am, I will always feel the same on Mahalaya. Everything else just makes it merrier. But this fluttering happiness that Mahalaya brings deep inside me is so much an inherent part of the person I am that it will remain the same always. Wherever I am, it will remain constant.
It is Mahalaya. And this is what it always is.
The holiday mood lingers on
It was long back in beginning of August when I returned from my summer holiday trip, and yet somehow I was not out of its wonderful charm until recently (though sometimes I really doubt that!). I had a fantastic vacation and returned full of lovely experiences; experiences that return as memories from time to time. However, it was not just about wonderful memories. It was somewhat like a spell that made me rather ignore the fact that I was actually back, kept me away from regular life and work. A spell that each of my longer holiday trips casts on me and the lazy holiday mood that simply lingers on. I remained somewhat in a state of denial. The mood was just of some lazy delight. And the story telling, pictures made the situation worse. It was so hard to just start working in the lab. There was no concentration for work and somehow I just wished the clock to tick on. Simply procrastinate. It was just hard to be back.
It was easier to get back into everyday routine when I was little. Holidays were then planned during the school vacations. With a few days of school leave still left, after returning from a lovely trip there was this buffer time to tell the stories and relive the memories. I would happily chatter around about such awesome places I saw. Dad would bring home one evening the printed pictures. Eagerly we would see how the pictures came out. And with the pictures it was visiting those places once again in memories. We would talk about little things from our trips, what we liked, what was best. There was simply no end and there was no need of the end. I had the time for the luxury of indulging in those memories and being lazy.
And finally, when the school would reopen, it was no problem. I would rather wait for it to reopen. I would get the chance to tell the stories to friends and ‘brag’ about it. Telling stories and listening to others filled the breaks between classes. It was all simply excitement, and going back to school did not feel like burden. During the classes there was anyway no other way out than to study, listen to the teacher, and solve problems. Even though then also I was forced back to regular rhythm, the force was however not felt.
Next came the college phase and its vacations. The long vacations were spent at hometown. Home, family, friends, good food, coupled with a short trip somewhere made it a perfect luxury after each hectic semester. Returning to the hostel with another more hectic semester to welcome us was bad. However, it was different living in a hostel. It was like another holiday except for during the exam times. Living with all the girls, chatting around, gossips; we were busy and having fun all the time. And therefore, even though we missed home; we actually looked forward to meet each other once we were already in Akurdi and catch up with the stories. It was just another phase of holiday with a little hint of homesickness in it. At least until the internal exams knocked on the door and we were forced to study.
But now that I work it is different. I cannot imagine how it would be if I was working in public sector, IT or whatever else, maybe I would be forced into the work and it would be easier in the end. But I do not. I am required to be back to work and work, but I am sort of on my own (thanks to my boss also!). So, unless there is some close deadline to meet, I had the ‘time’ to procrastinate. And there was no real deadline to meet when I came back after the holidays.
I had to be back to work the very next day and I was supposed to be working for eight hours a day. And I did start ‘working’ eight hours. However, in this entire story, there was a big ‘but’. I was back to everyday life but the pulse was missing. I had no mood for work. I felt so bored that I had to be at work. Sitting in front of the computer I did something, but at the end of the day I had no clue what I did. Everything was going so slow. And I did not like it at all. The minimum concentration required to work productively was missing.
Same was the situation back in home. I was cooking half-heartedly. Cleaning was postponed as much as possible. There was no mood for hobbies. I was just lazy. Even the stories about the holiday, those hundreds of pictures did not excite me so much. It was a wonderful holiday and its memories made me smile. I was happy and excited with the stories. But indulging in those memories was not what I wished. I wished the holiday itself. Back. Again. I wished to simply continue treating myself with the relaxation, laziness and excitement of a holiday. I hated the routine life and searched for all ways to escape it. Therefore, there was no trying to force myself back. I allowed myself to be in the mood. Every day I reminded myself of the reality and in the end simply let the mood win.
But in the end it could not go on forever. I had to go back to regular work pattern and this blissful holiday mood had no way to survive longer. I don’t have a nagging boss who drives me crazy. But then, work slowly piled up which in the end had to be finished, deadline crept nearer. I just had to be ‘back’ from my holiday. It did not matter if there was concentration or lack of it. So well, did I have any option? I could not just afford to be indulged in the perfect holiday mood. And it was just so hard to be back. But, somewhere in this story, somehow maybe, I think, the holiday mood also started fading away and I got excited with work again..
But wait. The mood is again trying to seep back. With the Durga puja around the corner; even though I am nowhere near the festivity, I am again exuberant. My mind is again fleeting. I again feel this charming laziness around me. And with every little chance I just provoke this mood. Little weekend trips, lazy evenings at home, eating pizza instead of cooking, or cooking something I love, experimenting.. Just somehow letting the clock move on and forget time. The holiday mood still lingers on…
Oh, now when am I supposed to work??
It was easier to get back into everyday routine when I was little. Holidays were then planned during the school vacations. With a few days of school leave still left, after returning from a lovely trip there was this buffer time to tell the stories and relive the memories. I would happily chatter around about such awesome places I saw. Dad would bring home one evening the printed pictures. Eagerly we would see how the pictures came out. And with the pictures it was visiting those places once again in memories. We would talk about little things from our trips, what we liked, what was best. There was simply no end and there was no need of the end. I had the time for the luxury of indulging in those memories and being lazy.
And finally, when the school would reopen, it was no problem. I would rather wait for it to reopen. I would get the chance to tell the stories to friends and ‘brag’ about it. Telling stories and listening to others filled the breaks between classes. It was all simply excitement, and going back to school did not feel like burden. During the classes there was anyway no other way out than to study, listen to the teacher, and solve problems. Even though then also I was forced back to regular rhythm, the force was however not felt.
Next came the college phase and its vacations. The long vacations were spent at hometown. Home, family, friends, good food, coupled with a short trip somewhere made it a perfect luxury after each hectic semester. Returning to the hostel with another more hectic semester to welcome us was bad. However, it was different living in a hostel. It was like another holiday except for during the exam times. Living with all the girls, chatting around, gossips; we were busy and having fun all the time. And therefore, even though we missed home; we actually looked forward to meet each other once we were already in Akurdi and catch up with the stories. It was just another phase of holiday with a little hint of homesickness in it. At least until the internal exams knocked on the door and we were forced to study.
But now that I work it is different. I cannot imagine how it would be if I was working in public sector, IT or whatever else, maybe I would be forced into the work and it would be easier in the end. But I do not. I am required to be back to work and work, but I am sort of on my own (thanks to my boss also!). So, unless there is some close deadline to meet, I had the ‘time’ to procrastinate. And there was no real deadline to meet when I came back after the holidays.
I had to be back to work the very next day and I was supposed to be working for eight hours a day. And I did start ‘working’ eight hours. However, in this entire story, there was a big ‘but’. I was back to everyday life but the pulse was missing. I had no mood for work. I felt so bored that I had to be at work. Sitting in front of the computer I did something, but at the end of the day I had no clue what I did. Everything was going so slow. And I did not like it at all. The minimum concentration required to work productively was missing.
Same was the situation back in home. I was cooking half-heartedly. Cleaning was postponed as much as possible. There was no mood for hobbies. I was just lazy. Even the stories about the holiday, those hundreds of pictures did not excite me so much. It was a wonderful holiday and its memories made me smile. I was happy and excited with the stories. But indulging in those memories was not what I wished. I wished the holiday itself. Back. Again. I wished to simply continue treating myself with the relaxation, laziness and excitement of a holiday. I hated the routine life and searched for all ways to escape it. Therefore, there was no trying to force myself back. I allowed myself to be in the mood. Every day I reminded myself of the reality and in the end simply let the mood win.
But in the end it could not go on forever. I had to go back to regular work pattern and this blissful holiday mood had no way to survive longer. I don’t have a nagging boss who drives me crazy. But then, work slowly piled up which in the end had to be finished, deadline crept nearer. I just had to be ‘back’ from my holiday. It did not matter if there was concentration or lack of it. So well, did I have any option? I could not just afford to be indulged in the perfect holiday mood. And it was just so hard to be back. But, somewhere in this story, somehow maybe, I think, the holiday mood also started fading away and I got excited with work again..
But wait. The mood is again trying to seep back. With the Durga puja around the corner; even though I am nowhere near the festivity, I am again exuberant. My mind is again fleeting. I again feel this charming laziness around me. And with every little chance I just provoke this mood. Little weekend trips, lazy evenings at home, eating pizza instead of cooking, or cooking something I love, experimenting.. Just somehow letting the clock move on and forget time. The holiday mood still lingers on…
Oh, now when am I supposed to work??
August 31, 2010
Jet lag
'Jet Lag', the buzzword in long distance air travel, was always something alien to me. I always ‘enjoyed’ people talking about their jet lag experiences to brag about their long distance air travels abroad. It is always somewhat amusing; especially when someone even after more than a month of their travel talks about how they are still experiencing the jet lag! And sometimes, this even kind of gets annoying. It is in the end just a physiological condition that may or may not affect one as a result of their long distance travels. It is annoying to use jet lag as a tool to brag about the travel. I would rather happily hear people bragging about the travel itself, directly.
Thus, as I amused myself with people talking about their jet lag; I wondered how it is actually to experience it. Despite of my few long distance air travels, I never experienced it until recently.
I am a person who can more easily modify her sleeping patterns if necessary. No, I cannot remain sleepless whole night, and then work the whole next day. But, if necessary, and as long as I get a few good hours of sleep sometime, I can easily alter my sleeping patterns. This fact, accompanied with the fact that I can fall asleep easily while travelling, lead to me not experiencing jet lag every time. I definitely do feel tired; I am no superhuman after all. But this tiredness is a natural one after a long journey and is manageable. And about food, I can eat almost all the time. As long as I can handle the altered bedtime, the altered eating cycle is no problem.
When the first time I came to Slovenia from India, I was not actually adjusting to any time difference. Back then in India, I had this habit of going to bed almost towards the morning, after 3 am. Therefore, my sleeping pattern was basically adjusted from before. During flight I was comfortably sleeping until I saw the horizon playing with colors and turning magnificently blue. When I reached Slovenia in the morning, I had the energy to happily go through the whole day. I simply got adjusted. The clock ticking in me did not complain. And the later travels were similarly smooth too.
Going to USA this summer for a vacation was about to bring a different experience. The time difference is of six hours, and I feared of experiencing certain uneasiness from this travel. But no, it was just fine. Maybe, I thought, because all my travels had been either during day or overnight, I was able to cope better. I either slept or did not. Somehow, I never reached my destination urging to go to bed when it is broad daylight there, or getting irritated trying to fall asleep as my sleep is miles away from me. But this record was about to change.
While flying back to Europe, the flight would give me only 2 hours of night. However, I was not bothered. I was relying on sleeping in the flight for some time, like usual. But. Well, everything changed.
Generally, the sound and the uncomfortable position do not prevent me from falling asleep. As I watched the sun set over the horizon, the dinner was served (on a side note, it was not good). I finished the movie I was watching; and then it was time for sleeping. I tried to make myself comfortable, but somehow something was wrong. Whatever. I found the best possible position for me and tried to sleep. I was sleepy, and tired. But I was just not really sleeping as I always do. It was only a resting phase, something between being asleep or awake. And the engine made such loud sound!! It was already annoying before. But now, as I was trying to sleep, it was intolerable. I had never experienced loud sound like this before, even when my seat was close to the wings. It was simply horrible. And there went my sleep..
No doubt, I reached Munich all tired. There were four hours of waiting time. With the terrible sound now gone, I hoped to rest. But again there, it was not to happen. For some unknown reason we did not get the boarding pass of the connecting flight at D.C. And, our flight being four hours later was not displayed, leaving us clueless about the gate we should approach for transit. Next was getting the boarding pass. It was a huge line. And when it was finally our turn, well our ticket seemed invalid with no apparent reason. The staff was completely clueless as our registration was just not in their system, and all else seemed okay. Thus, after an hour of wondering and discussing, we finally got the boarding pass. I was so tired and sleepy, barely being able to keep my eyes open. But I must remain ‘awake’ and take care of my hand baggage and purse. Well. Whatever. I grabbed my purse, and soon was sleeping on my hand baggage.
By the time I reached Ljubljana, I literally had no patience and energy left in me. I barely managed to eat some food. And then headed straight to bed falling fast asleep. It was not tiredness or lack of sleep. It was just something else. Something like an annoying bug in my head. Still, I was under the illusion that I just required sleep, and the next morning would be normal.
The illusion started breaking when I woke in middle of the sleep. My mind was telling: sleep, you have work tomorrow morning. But my body answered: oh, I am nicely rested, it is now time to wake up and start the day. And all this conversation was happening in the middle of the night! Next two three hours went away just there lying on bed, staring and thinking. Forcing myself to fall asleep. But with no success. I was so bored. And finally I think this boredom made me fall asleep again.
And after all these hours of sleeping, resting etc etc, when I woke up next morning, my head was heavy. I was still sleepy! It got worse. All I wanted in the middle of the day was some time to sleep. Okay, today in evening, no internet and checking backlog of mails/messages etc, but resting. However as I reached home in afternoon I was again fine. Unable to force myself to sleep, I was awake till way past midnight on that evening when I actually had planned to go to bed early. And next morning, the sleepy head was back again. Urrgh…
For the next few days it was like this. Driving me crazy.
I experienced jet lag. And so much I did. It was enough.
And I will never understand how people announce that they had jet lag with a hint of pride! Even when this hint of pride is supposedly for their trip to some far away foreign land.
Thus, as I amused myself with people talking about their jet lag; I wondered how it is actually to experience it. Despite of my few long distance air travels, I never experienced it until recently.
I am a person who can more easily modify her sleeping patterns if necessary. No, I cannot remain sleepless whole night, and then work the whole next day. But, if necessary, and as long as I get a few good hours of sleep sometime, I can easily alter my sleeping patterns. This fact, accompanied with the fact that I can fall asleep easily while travelling, lead to me not experiencing jet lag every time. I definitely do feel tired; I am no superhuman after all. But this tiredness is a natural one after a long journey and is manageable. And about food, I can eat almost all the time. As long as I can handle the altered bedtime, the altered eating cycle is no problem.
When the first time I came to Slovenia from India, I was not actually adjusting to any time difference. Back then in India, I had this habit of going to bed almost towards the morning, after 3 am. Therefore, my sleeping pattern was basically adjusted from before. During flight I was comfortably sleeping until I saw the horizon playing with colors and turning magnificently blue. When I reached Slovenia in the morning, I had the energy to happily go through the whole day. I simply got adjusted. The clock ticking in me did not complain. And the later travels were similarly smooth too.
Going to USA this summer for a vacation was about to bring a different experience. The time difference is of six hours, and I feared of experiencing certain uneasiness from this travel. But no, it was just fine. Maybe, I thought, because all my travels had been either during day or overnight, I was able to cope better. I either slept or did not. Somehow, I never reached my destination urging to go to bed when it is broad daylight there, or getting irritated trying to fall asleep as my sleep is miles away from me. But this record was about to change.
While flying back to Europe, the flight would give me only 2 hours of night. However, I was not bothered. I was relying on sleeping in the flight for some time, like usual. But. Well, everything changed.
Generally, the sound and the uncomfortable position do not prevent me from falling asleep. As I watched the sun set over the horizon, the dinner was served (on a side note, it was not good). I finished the movie I was watching; and then it was time for sleeping. I tried to make myself comfortable, but somehow something was wrong. Whatever. I found the best possible position for me and tried to sleep. I was sleepy, and tired. But I was just not really sleeping as I always do. It was only a resting phase, something between being asleep or awake. And the engine made such loud sound!! It was already annoying before. But now, as I was trying to sleep, it was intolerable. I had never experienced loud sound like this before, even when my seat was close to the wings. It was simply horrible. And there went my sleep..
No doubt, I reached Munich all tired. There were four hours of waiting time. With the terrible sound now gone, I hoped to rest. But again there, it was not to happen. For some unknown reason we did not get the boarding pass of the connecting flight at D.C. And, our flight being four hours later was not displayed, leaving us clueless about the gate we should approach for transit. Next was getting the boarding pass. It was a huge line. And when it was finally our turn, well our ticket seemed invalid with no apparent reason. The staff was completely clueless as our registration was just not in their system, and all else seemed okay. Thus, after an hour of wondering and discussing, we finally got the boarding pass. I was so tired and sleepy, barely being able to keep my eyes open. But I must remain ‘awake’ and take care of my hand baggage and purse. Well. Whatever. I grabbed my purse, and soon was sleeping on my hand baggage.
By the time I reached Ljubljana, I literally had no patience and energy left in me. I barely managed to eat some food. And then headed straight to bed falling fast asleep. It was not tiredness or lack of sleep. It was just something else. Something like an annoying bug in my head. Still, I was under the illusion that I just required sleep, and the next morning would be normal.
The illusion started breaking when I woke in middle of the sleep. My mind was telling: sleep, you have work tomorrow morning. But my body answered: oh, I am nicely rested, it is now time to wake up and start the day. And all this conversation was happening in the middle of the night! Next two three hours went away just there lying on bed, staring and thinking. Forcing myself to fall asleep. But with no success. I was so bored. And finally I think this boredom made me fall asleep again.
And after all these hours of sleeping, resting etc etc, when I woke up next morning, my head was heavy. I was still sleepy! It got worse. All I wanted in the middle of the day was some time to sleep. Okay, today in evening, no internet and checking backlog of mails/messages etc, but resting. However as I reached home in afternoon I was again fine. Unable to force myself to sleep, I was awake till way past midnight on that evening when I actually had planned to go to bed early. And next morning, the sleepy head was back again. Urrgh…
For the next few days it was like this. Driving me crazy.
I experienced jet lag. And so much I did. It was enough.
And I will never understand how people announce that they had jet lag with a hint of pride! Even when this hint of pride is supposedly for their trip to some far away foreign land.
July 21, 2010
The evening before going
Tomorrow I am going for a holiday. And it is the evening before.
It is supposed to be the best evening. Best because I have the whole holiday to look forward to.. An evening when I am excited and anticipating. All ready to enjoy and collect great memories.
Yet, at the same time it is the busiest. And this ‘busy’ part got added after I grew up. Phew :(
I remember the evening before going for a holiday as a little girl. Brother and I would be all bursting with excitement. And the packing and arranging part was for parents to do. After finishing all the chores that evening, they would only start packing late at night. And along with packing, another difficult task awaited them always. Putting us to sleep. Tiredness from a whole day of running around would not make us feel sleepy! We were giggling, excited and eager to watch the packing. The final preparation of our holiday.. I still remember the images. Brother and me would be lying in bed on our tummy, our chin resting on the wooden side bar (sometimes even our teeth!); and enthusiastically watching as parents arrange the dresses and other stuff inside the big open suitcases on the ground.
Alas, now packing is no more fun. Instead of keenly watching, now I am forced to do the ‘work’. Make list. Gather everything. Put all in bags. Think what things aren’t allowed in carry-on luggage. Make some alterations in the arrangement. Next comes the important part of arranging passport, documents, money etc in handbag. Of course, there are always last minutes items to put in. And considering how anxious I am by nature, I have to check and recheck everything several times.
I had already rather packed for the holiday. But still as I was thinking at work what I need to do after returning home, I remembered this short but tedious list.
Draw money from ATM on way home.
Put phone and camera into charging soon after reaching.
Pack and put in the shoes. Do not pack snickers. I will be wearing them for flight.
That reminds, take out a pair of socks to go with it. Ah, all are in bag already.
Put in the comb, cream and other necessary cosmetics.
Check for the already packed dresses (so that like last time I am not imagining I have some thinner pants when it is waiting at home nicely folded).
Take the medicines.
Arrange two bandaids for tomorrow (result of my bad fall on road).
Empty the workbag (there is no need of work swipe card, bus pass etc at the holiday) and put it in big suitcase.
Put in the phone, camera, and their chargers.
Put in insurance, ID and other documents (and a copy in each bag).
Check the passport.
Take air ticket.
Oh, in between squeeze in some time to call parents.
Take a shower and wash hair.
Of course, have dinner.
Ah, as I am writing this I am done with all except the last two. Good girl!
But ah, when did going for a holiday become so much work??!!
Oh, wait. And again I forgot! Change the address tags in the bags.
I have to check a few other things too. And recheck. And again.
Okay enough!! I better go.
It is supposed to be the best evening. Best because I have the whole holiday to look forward to.. An evening when I am excited and anticipating. All ready to enjoy and collect great memories.
Yet, at the same time it is the busiest. And this ‘busy’ part got added after I grew up. Phew :(
I remember the evening before going for a holiday as a little girl. Brother and I would be all bursting with excitement. And the packing and arranging part was for parents to do. After finishing all the chores that evening, they would only start packing late at night. And along with packing, another difficult task awaited them always. Putting us to sleep. Tiredness from a whole day of running around would not make us feel sleepy! We were giggling, excited and eager to watch the packing. The final preparation of our holiday.. I still remember the images. Brother and me would be lying in bed on our tummy, our chin resting on the wooden side bar (sometimes even our teeth!); and enthusiastically watching as parents arrange the dresses and other stuff inside the big open suitcases on the ground.
Alas, now packing is no more fun. Instead of keenly watching, now I am forced to do the ‘work’. Make list. Gather everything. Put all in bags. Think what things aren’t allowed in carry-on luggage. Make some alterations in the arrangement. Next comes the important part of arranging passport, documents, money etc in handbag. Of course, there are always last minutes items to put in. And considering how anxious I am by nature, I have to check and recheck everything several times.
I had already rather packed for the holiday. But still as I was thinking at work what I need to do after returning home, I remembered this short but tedious list.
Draw money from ATM on way home.
Put phone and camera into charging soon after reaching.
Pack and put in the shoes. Do not pack snickers. I will be wearing them for flight.
That reminds, take out a pair of socks to go with it. Ah, all are in bag already.
Put in the comb, cream and other necessary cosmetics.
Check for the already packed dresses (so that like last time I am not imagining I have some thinner pants when it is waiting at home nicely folded).
Take the medicines.
Arrange two bandaids for tomorrow (result of my bad fall on road).
Empty the workbag (there is no need of work swipe card, bus pass etc at the holiday) and put it in big suitcase.
Put in the phone, camera, and their chargers.
Put in insurance, ID and other documents (and a copy in each bag).
Check the passport.
Take air ticket.
Oh, in between squeeze in some time to call parents.
Take a shower and wash hair.
Of course, have dinner.
Ah, as I am writing this I am done with all except the last two. Good girl!
But ah, when did going for a holiday become so much work??!!
Oh, wait. And again I forgot! Change the address tags in the bags.
I have to check a few other things too. And recheck. And again.
Okay enough!! I better go.
Hot summer afternoon and games
What activities does one enjoy in a sultry summer afternoon? Swimming or some other water activities, maybe something inside the doors. Right? Well, last week I was playing mini golf with the guys out there in the scorching heat. And guess what? It was sooooo much fun. Despite of the heat.
Now I am not a sport person. I find cricket boring, an exception considering I am an Indian. Other games I ‘tolerate’ to certain extent. I only watch sports when it is some great show. Moreover, when it comes to participating in any, I do not. Quite a contrast from when I was little. I don’t remember when I started to not enjoy sports; but I think it was a part of my childhood restlessness when I was ever interested in it. I only like swimming and recently riding bicycle for recreation. Therefore, playing mini golf out in one of the hottest afternoons is quite something for a person of my ‘background’. Yet I played. And enjoyed. Because, mini golf is great fun and recreation, and it is always great to go out with these guys.
It was not a big group when I mentioned ‘the guys’. It was only Blaž and Luka. Anyone who knows me can tell that I enjoy and prefer smaller company than a huge crowd. Therefore, it was perfect. Blaž and Luka have this tradition of playing mini golf in one of the hottest afternoons for quite a few years now. Initially they would have a few of their other high school friends to join in; but now it is more their ‘tradition’. Last year I had an awesome time joining them. Therefore, when it was hottest these past days, I reminded Blaž about the mini golf. Of course, there was no time before the World Cup fever settled; and finally last Tuesday we decided for the ‘games afternoon’.
Blaž picked me up from work and we headed towards park Tivoli. Soon we noticed Luka’s car just in front of us. Luka, however, was too busy examining his hair and face to notice us :P. Surprisingly there was no parking charge at Tivoli. Blaž’s comment: Maybe the person has already gone home because of such heat. Well. And we came here to play!! Geared with our hats and water, we headed on towards the mini golf area.
There are in total 18 courses of various difficulty levels. Blaž decided to take the first shot for the hole; and needed two strokes. Next was me. Positioning myself by the ball, I tried hard to recollect how I was supposed to take the strike. As I said before, I am no sport person. I maybe enjoy more keeping the scores than playing myself!! Anyway, it was the easiest lane and I managed it with three strokes. By the time we moved for the second course, I was already all sweaty and uncomfortable. Next followed a series of my strokes for the hole. I am sure the boys were bored so very much. The heat made me loose all concentrations sometimes. Yet I was determined; but I scored 10 in more than half of the courses. . But hey, it was better than last year! And it was so so much fun. I enjoyed specially those courses where the hole was on top of a ‘hill’ or in middle of a ‘slope’. We finished with Blaž winning, Luka scoring second, and me with the ‘highest’ score.
Returning the sticks, we decided for a horse-burger at the adjoining place. I was much interested in tasting the horse burger for the first time. It is only available in very few places and I never had the opportunity of trying. It tasted better than minced beef or pork to me, and I was so full in the end. However, I must say it was quite a peculiar feeling realizing that the meat comes from such a huge animal. Yet, it is not going to hold me from eating it again. I am complete foodie and non-vegetarian. That is it.
As we were busy munching the burger, Luka figured out that he had played a bit worse that day than previous two years. He had found and brought his previous score papers! And I am not surprise. I am sure that Blaž has them somewhere too.
As I had already foreseen, the next decision was going for a pool. But, Luka came up with the idea of going for bowling. I had never played bowling before and was always interested in trying. Therefore, I was very much in for the idea. Accordingly, we headed for BTC hoping that we would be able to find a bowling lane free.
We were lucky! There was not only a lane free, but the bowling arena was strangely empty with only two groups playing. Wow! One can really see the effect of holidays and vacation coupled with Tuesday evening!! We didn’t have socks with us. It is summer after all. And hiring a pair would cost 1€. Hey, we can very well manage without socks and only got the shoes. Luka gave me a briefing as Blaž was ordering the drinks. Beer for Luka, a tradition when he is bowling; and some non-alcoholic drink for himself. I am rather reluctant most of the time to order drinks.
I never imagined a bowling ball weighs that much!!! I chose the lightest one for myself and was still barely comfortable with it. How does one at all manage to lift heavier balls, swing it and show the tricks??!! It was difficult. And I couldn’t hit a single pin in the first try. However, with the help of the bars I slowly improved. Luka was amazed how almost every time I managed to do a ‘split’. And though doing a ‘split’ is not good, it was so much fun to me. I enjoyed every time. Specially enjoying when I managed to make a ‘split’ with 3 pins standing in a very symmetric fashion. It was fun. The full automation was impressive. Moreover, fun were the cartoons playing for ‘strike’, ‘split’, ‘spare’, ‘chance missed’ etc. It was ocean themed. It was soo cute! Hm, I will always remain a baby.
Luka had to go home by 10 p.m.; he needed to walk his dog who was recovering from an operation. And there was still an hour left. As rarely a Blaž and Luka meeting ends without pool, we made our way towards the pool tables upstairs. I was tired by then and anyway don’t play pool. Thus, I decided to just accompany and enjoy without ‘playing’ with them. I always like watching them play pool. Actually I guess I am quite starting to like watching pool, snooker on TV. Hm, that is a realization! Anyway, I watched them play and chatted occasionally, sipping my coco. Luka played his game, and Blaž had a ‘bad pool day’. One hour was over before we realized and it was time to go home.
Standing in the parking lot, we talked a bit more. Planning when to meet next and so on.. And finally we headed towards the cars. It was past 22:30 as Blaž dropped me home. I was so tired. Yet so satisfied. I enjoyed playing and spending time with Blaž and Luka. “I had a great afternoon/evening”, I reflected as I said good night.
And then as I was unlocking my door, I remember all the chores that I was supposed to do before retiring to bed.. Well, that is another story...
Now I am not a sport person. I find cricket boring, an exception considering I am an Indian. Other games I ‘tolerate’ to certain extent. I only watch sports when it is some great show. Moreover, when it comes to participating in any, I do not. Quite a contrast from when I was little. I don’t remember when I started to not enjoy sports; but I think it was a part of my childhood restlessness when I was ever interested in it. I only like swimming and recently riding bicycle for recreation. Therefore, playing mini golf out in one of the hottest afternoons is quite something for a person of my ‘background’. Yet I played. And enjoyed. Because, mini golf is great fun and recreation, and it is always great to go out with these guys.
It was not a big group when I mentioned ‘the guys’. It was only Blaž and Luka. Anyone who knows me can tell that I enjoy and prefer smaller company than a huge crowd. Therefore, it was perfect. Blaž and Luka have this tradition of playing mini golf in one of the hottest afternoons for quite a few years now. Initially they would have a few of their other high school friends to join in; but now it is more their ‘tradition’. Last year I had an awesome time joining them. Therefore, when it was hottest these past days, I reminded Blaž about the mini golf. Of course, there was no time before the World Cup fever settled; and finally last Tuesday we decided for the ‘games afternoon’.
Blaž picked me up from work and we headed towards park Tivoli. Soon we noticed Luka’s car just in front of us. Luka, however, was too busy examining his hair and face to notice us :P. Surprisingly there was no parking charge at Tivoli. Blaž’s comment: Maybe the person has already gone home because of such heat. Well. And we came here to play!! Geared with our hats and water, we headed on towards the mini golf area.
There are in total 18 courses of various difficulty levels. Blaž decided to take the first shot for the hole; and needed two strokes. Next was me. Positioning myself by the ball, I tried hard to recollect how I was supposed to take the strike. As I said before, I am no sport person. I maybe enjoy more keeping the scores than playing myself!! Anyway, it was the easiest lane and I managed it with three strokes. By the time we moved for the second course, I was already all sweaty and uncomfortable. Next followed a series of my strokes for the hole. I am sure the boys were bored so very much. The heat made me loose all concentrations sometimes. Yet I was determined; but I scored 10 in more than half of the courses. . But hey, it was better than last year! And it was so so much fun. I enjoyed specially those courses where the hole was on top of a ‘hill’ or in middle of a ‘slope’. We finished with Blaž winning, Luka scoring second, and me with the ‘highest’ score.
Returning the sticks, we decided for a horse-burger at the adjoining place. I was much interested in tasting the horse burger for the first time. It is only available in very few places and I never had the opportunity of trying. It tasted better than minced beef or pork to me, and I was so full in the end. However, I must say it was quite a peculiar feeling realizing that the meat comes from such a huge animal. Yet, it is not going to hold me from eating it again. I am complete foodie and non-vegetarian. That is it.
As we were busy munching the burger, Luka figured out that he had played a bit worse that day than previous two years. He had found and brought his previous score papers! And I am not surprise. I am sure that Blaž has them somewhere too.
As I had already foreseen, the next decision was going for a pool. But, Luka came up with the idea of going for bowling. I had never played bowling before and was always interested in trying. Therefore, I was very much in for the idea. Accordingly, we headed for BTC hoping that we would be able to find a bowling lane free.
We were lucky! There was not only a lane free, but the bowling arena was strangely empty with only two groups playing. Wow! One can really see the effect of holidays and vacation coupled with Tuesday evening!! We didn’t have socks with us. It is summer after all. And hiring a pair would cost 1€. Hey, we can very well manage without socks and only got the shoes. Luka gave me a briefing as Blaž was ordering the drinks. Beer for Luka, a tradition when he is bowling; and some non-alcoholic drink for himself. I am rather reluctant most of the time to order drinks.
I never imagined a bowling ball weighs that much!!! I chose the lightest one for myself and was still barely comfortable with it. How does one at all manage to lift heavier balls, swing it and show the tricks??!! It was difficult. And I couldn’t hit a single pin in the first try. However, with the help of the bars I slowly improved. Luka was amazed how almost every time I managed to do a ‘split’. And though doing a ‘split’ is not good, it was so much fun to me. I enjoyed every time. Specially enjoying when I managed to make a ‘split’ with 3 pins standing in a very symmetric fashion. It was fun. The full automation was impressive. Moreover, fun were the cartoons playing for ‘strike’, ‘split’, ‘spare’, ‘chance missed’ etc. It was ocean themed. It was soo cute! Hm, I will always remain a baby.
Luka had to go home by 10 p.m.; he needed to walk his dog who was recovering from an operation. And there was still an hour left. As rarely a Blaž and Luka meeting ends without pool, we made our way towards the pool tables upstairs. I was tired by then and anyway don’t play pool. Thus, I decided to just accompany and enjoy without ‘playing’ with them. I always like watching them play pool. Actually I guess I am quite starting to like watching pool, snooker on TV. Hm, that is a realization! Anyway, I watched them play and chatted occasionally, sipping my coco. Luka played his game, and Blaž had a ‘bad pool day’. One hour was over before we realized and it was time to go home.
Standing in the parking lot, we talked a bit more. Planning when to meet next and so on.. And finally we headed towards the cars. It was past 22:30 as Blaž dropped me home. I was so tired. Yet so satisfied. I enjoyed playing and spending time with Blaž and Luka. “I had a great afternoon/evening”, I reflected as I said good night.
And then as I was unlocking my door, I remember all the chores that I was supposed to do before retiring to bed.. Well, that is another story...
July 12, 2010
How many days left?
10 days exactly. And then I am going for the long awaited vacation. Yeeee!!
The ‘it will come.. it will come..’ wait is the best part. It has all the excitement and expectations, and the pleasure of waiting adds the cherry on the top. Counting days in sweet anticipation. And then it happens. All the fun and excitement makes it pass with the wink of the eye. And soon it becomes a lovely memory.
And I have 10 more days to count before I go for the holiday..
I love to travel. And a new city is beckoning me..
And for me, the pre- and post-travel phases are no less fun than the journey itself. Deciding where to go, when to go, and then waiting for the day when I will pack my bags and venture to explore a new place; all these are a part of the pleasure that traveling brings.
How I waited for those family vacations when I was little! Parents would discuss and decide for the place. I barely had any role to play in this discussion. Going somewhere during the long school vacations was all I wanted. And if it was mountains, it was the best! Months before the vacation, I would eagerly ask if we were going somewhere for the vacation. Every time my face shone with a broad smile after I was told the name of the place. And next followed all those questions enquiring the little details. Where is this place, mountains or sea? When are we going? For how long are we going? What all places are we going to see? Are we going with train? How long is the journey to the place? And many more.. Furnished with all these details, the next day I would proudly announce and brag about our awaited vacation in school. I was not required to bother with the intricacies of the journey. Counting days in anticipation and excitement was all I did.
Then in those years of growing up, I slowly started taking part in the discussion. I would suggest regarding probable places to go. Read and ask in more details about the places we were intending to visit. Maybe would read about an interesting place and suggest about going there. I would read more about the sightseeing and enquire in more details the travel plan. However, in the end, parents were still the main deciding head behind the travel plans. My contribution was more suggestion than decision. And in all these little contributions, the counting of days remained. I planned for the vacation and waited for it.
And then last summer, for the first time I fully planned my own vacation. Duties at school and work had not allowed us to think about vacation before, and we had no real plans. Somehow it just decided to go for a vacation sometime in August. It was already July when we started planning. We wished to go to the Slovenian mountains; and for the other part of the vacation, I really wished to go to Rome. And when it was made final and the vacation proponed a bit, we were only left with less than 2 weeks to arrange everything. The Slovenian part of the vacation was sort of already decided and planned, just the dates were fixed. However, travel to Rome required a planning from the scratch. As Blaž looked for accommodation, transport and insurance; I was busy making the sightseeing itinerary. Browsing through the internet and travel book, I came up with an initial plan. Each day was packed with visiting churches, piazzas, museums and walks. And next came pre-booking the passes for the most visited places online. Busy days passed browsing the internet. And before we knew, the vacation already started. There was no counting days for it!! The excitement was much more. It was after all my first vacation on my own. But somewhere I missed waiting for it in all the rush.
And now, yet again summer has come. And this time it is all sort of planned already. Of course again the last week is going to be busy as always with hundreds of small errands to be done. I have to go through the sightseeing plans in more details and read about the places more. Maybe I will have some more suggestions and wishes. There are bags to pack and documents to arrange. And there is always something to be done at work. So, days are going to be busy. But, amidst all these busy days, I will be counting. A counting that had started long back when this travel plan was just an idea. A counting that is adding more fun to everything and increasing the excitement and expectations. A counting that adds an extra flavor to the already perfect vacation.
I am eagerly waiting and counting.
10 more days to go….
The ‘it will come.. it will come..’ wait is the best part. It has all the excitement and expectations, and the pleasure of waiting adds the cherry on the top. Counting days in sweet anticipation. And then it happens. All the fun and excitement makes it pass with the wink of the eye. And soon it becomes a lovely memory.
And I have 10 more days to count before I go for the holiday..
I love to travel. And a new city is beckoning me..
And for me, the pre- and post-travel phases are no less fun than the journey itself. Deciding where to go, when to go, and then waiting for the day when I will pack my bags and venture to explore a new place; all these are a part of the pleasure that traveling brings.
How I waited for those family vacations when I was little! Parents would discuss and decide for the place. I barely had any role to play in this discussion. Going somewhere during the long school vacations was all I wanted. And if it was mountains, it was the best! Months before the vacation, I would eagerly ask if we were going somewhere for the vacation. Every time my face shone with a broad smile after I was told the name of the place. And next followed all those questions enquiring the little details. Where is this place, mountains or sea? When are we going? For how long are we going? What all places are we going to see? Are we going with train? How long is the journey to the place? And many more.. Furnished with all these details, the next day I would proudly announce and brag about our awaited vacation in school. I was not required to bother with the intricacies of the journey. Counting days in anticipation and excitement was all I did.
Then in those years of growing up, I slowly started taking part in the discussion. I would suggest regarding probable places to go. Read and ask in more details about the places we were intending to visit. Maybe would read about an interesting place and suggest about going there. I would read more about the sightseeing and enquire in more details the travel plan. However, in the end, parents were still the main deciding head behind the travel plans. My contribution was more suggestion than decision. And in all these little contributions, the counting of days remained. I planned for the vacation and waited for it.
And then last summer, for the first time I fully planned my own vacation. Duties at school and work had not allowed us to think about vacation before, and we had no real plans. Somehow it just decided to go for a vacation sometime in August. It was already July when we started planning. We wished to go to the Slovenian mountains; and for the other part of the vacation, I really wished to go to Rome. And when it was made final and the vacation proponed a bit, we were only left with less than 2 weeks to arrange everything. The Slovenian part of the vacation was sort of already decided and planned, just the dates were fixed. However, travel to Rome required a planning from the scratch. As Blaž looked for accommodation, transport and insurance; I was busy making the sightseeing itinerary. Browsing through the internet and travel book, I came up with an initial plan. Each day was packed with visiting churches, piazzas, museums and walks. And next came pre-booking the passes for the most visited places online. Busy days passed browsing the internet. And before we knew, the vacation already started. There was no counting days for it!! The excitement was much more. It was after all my first vacation on my own. But somewhere I missed waiting for it in all the rush.
And now, yet again summer has come. And this time it is all sort of planned already. Of course again the last week is going to be busy as always with hundreds of small errands to be done. I have to go through the sightseeing plans in more details and read about the places more. Maybe I will have some more suggestions and wishes. There are bags to pack and documents to arrange. And there is always something to be done at work. So, days are going to be busy. But, amidst all these busy days, I will be counting. A counting that had started long back when this travel plan was just an idea. A counting that is adding more fun to everything and increasing the excitement and expectations. A counting that adds an extra flavor to the already perfect vacation.
I am eagerly waiting and counting.
10 more days to go….
I missed you too
Airport arrivals always have this cheerful ambience. People returning home after some time; meeting family, friends in a loving hug. Some others are arriving in a new city, their eyes full of curiosity and excitement. Families are waiting impatiently, their smile saying ‘we missed you’. The arrival terminals are thus always a promise of getting back to old relations or starting new ones. Here, the air is always filled with merry and smiles.
I was happily observing and thinking all these as we were waiting yesterday for Matic to return. Eagerly everyone was looking at the door as the first passenger of the flight came out. A little girl ran to her dad and held his legs in her tight embrace as the dad arrived through the doors. Partners met in loving hugs and kisses. Friends joined each other in jovial conversations. Some arrived and eyed the crowd with curiosity, and then went out. Everyone was engaged in crispy conversations, telling the ‘highlights’ of all that has happened moment after the ‘welcome back’ and ‘how are you’ hugs.
A lady arrived through the door. Her family was waiting just by the corner close to the door. As he hugged her husband, the dog that was calmly lying down till then, jumped up and started wagging its tail. It ran around her in circles, wagging its tail and trying to jump on her, barking in a low friendly voice. She gave it a gentle loving stroke on the back and turned to her two sons. And the dog could barely wait for her to hug her sons first. As she was sharing the motherly hug and mother-son talk with her sons, the dog was impatient. Running around them in circles, trying to jump on them, wagging its tail violently, the dog simply demanded attention. Its low friendly barks by then had turned to jealous, demanding ones. It tried to squeeze in between the mother and the sons, asking for a place too in this family hug.
When finally it was the dog’s turn, its joy knew no bound. The lady kneeled down on the floor by the dog. They were in a warm embrace; the lady stroking its fur gently and the dog happily wagging its tail. It sniffed her face, rolled on the floor in excitement, and again jumped back into her loving arms. Its soft ‘purring’ barks now said…“I missed you too…”
I was happily observing and thinking all these as we were waiting yesterday for Matic to return. Eagerly everyone was looking at the door as the first passenger of the flight came out. A little girl ran to her dad and held his legs in her tight embrace as the dad arrived through the doors. Partners met in loving hugs and kisses. Friends joined each other in jovial conversations. Some arrived and eyed the crowd with curiosity, and then went out. Everyone was engaged in crispy conversations, telling the ‘highlights’ of all that has happened moment after the ‘welcome back’ and ‘how are you’ hugs.
A lady arrived through the door. Her family was waiting just by the corner close to the door. As he hugged her husband, the dog that was calmly lying down till then, jumped up and started wagging its tail. It ran around her in circles, wagging its tail and trying to jump on her, barking in a low friendly voice. She gave it a gentle loving stroke on the back and turned to her two sons. And the dog could barely wait for her to hug her sons first. As she was sharing the motherly hug and mother-son talk with her sons, the dog was impatient. Running around them in circles, trying to jump on them, wagging its tail violently, the dog simply demanded attention. Its low friendly barks by then had turned to jealous, demanding ones. It tried to squeeze in between the mother and the sons, asking for a place too in this family hug.
When finally it was the dog’s turn, its joy knew no bound. The lady kneeled down on the floor by the dog. They were in a warm embrace; the lady stroking its fur gently and the dog happily wagging its tail. It sniffed her face, rolled on the floor in excitement, and again jumped back into her loving arms. Its soft ‘purring’ barks now said…“I missed you too…”
July 11, 2010
Assorted images of rain
We Bengalees love rain. Rain is romantic and poetic for us. Bengali language is rich with words sweetly echoing the various moods and rhythms of the rain. Over ages, our poets are describing flickering human emotions through various images of rain. These pattering drops have the versatility of expressing moments that are painted with colors of happiness or melancholy. As the dark grey clouds cover the sky announcing the approaching rain, we sit by the window, penning down our thoughts in the rhythm of the rain.
Rain is my favorite too. And though I don’t have the ability to arrange my thoughts in rhyme and rhythm, my heart signs with the rain in perfect symphony. A leisurely day with the pattering music of rain outside and me relaxing in the warm comfort of a cozy corner allows my mind the pleasure to dwell in its romantic wanderings. However, trying to protect myself under the small safety of an umbrella on the way to work is not a picture that I welcome. A bright sunny afternoon turning dark with clouds bringing afternoon shower-storm is romantic. A dark sky for days together with everything drenched is gloomy.
I was working in the lab and noticed it turning dark outside the window. I had planned to leave in around half an hour; and checked online the radar image to know how strong a rain was coming so that I was not trapped inside again like the other day. The sky was playing with various shades of grey preparing for the rain. It already started raining as I was thinking all these. I quickly saved my work and turned off the computer, grabbed my bag, card and keys. The rain was already quite strong as I stepped out grabbing my umbrella. I walked in the rain, in almost empty streets. It had almost the excitement of ‘an adventure’. Sitting in the bus, I looked out the window. The heavy downpour made everything white. The wind swiped the rain in all directions creating whirlpools. Magnificent lightnings tore apart the darkness of sky. Showers this strong are not only refreshing; it is beautiful to look at. And it was more amazing to walk and feel this beautifully strong rain.
Afternoon showers in summer always remind me of ‘kalbaisakhi’ or Nor’westers in Calcutta. I love it. It was a hot humid afternoon in the summer holiday. Brother and I were busy playing. We noticed the corner of the sky turning dark. The darkness crawled and covered the sky in no time; and the still wind of the noon was turning into a storm. Bang! It was the window. With more banging sounds we hurriedly closed the windows. We went in the veranda to feel the storm. The wind on face felt good. It tasted salty, like the rock salt. This dusty salty wind was so refreshing for us. We were giggling. Soon the rain started. And the wind brought it inside the veranda. Each drop hitting my face made me smile more and more. I imagined myself in the rural Bengal, soaking in the rain. The setting sun shone brightly again with little water drops gleaming.
My lab has four big skylights. I always enjoy the pattering sound of the raindrops on the glass. It creates a pleasant music for a busy and tiring day at work. It was working with my sequences and listening to the music the rain was creating on my roof one noon. Suddenly the rhythm changed. Small pebbles of ice were creating a new melody. It was fast and funky. Refreshing and energetic.
I remembered the sound when hails fell on steel bowl. The same ‘tak-tak-tak-tak’ rhythm. It was one similar noon years ago. Bare foot I ran out to collect the hails. However, parents soon forced me back in the house. As I myself could not play ‘catching the hails’, I had put out a bowl to catch the hails for me. The rain stopped and I dashed out to count my collection. It was quite a ‘big’ one. Still, more tempting were those icy pebbles shining amidst the green grass. I had picked up a few and quickly put in my mouth. I still remember the stinging, desensitizing cold in my mouth. The frogs were croaking loud and happy.
I woke up before the alarm. Looking outside the window from my bed, I was annoyed with myself. It was darkish outside, suggesting some time around dawn. I had a couple of more hours before it was time to get up. But, one look at the watch showed it to be a couple of minutes. Now, frowning I forced myself out of the bed. As I stepped outside my apartment, the dark gloomy sky ‘welcomed’ me. And even though it was raining heavily, I had to go to work. Annoyed with this wet feeling, I had to walk towards the bus stop. I miss those ‘rainy days’ in school.
It started raining at night. And even in the morning the sun did not show itself. It was waterlogged all around. A day the school for sure would declare as a ‘rainy day’. Nonetheless, I of course had to go to school. It was much more fun to go to school, get a ‘rainy day’, and come back home drenched, intentionally jumping in the puddles. I walked to the bus, fighting with the wind and trying to save my overturned umbrella. The bus ‘floated’ to school. And then as expected, it was a ‘rainy day’!! Happily I returned soaked. After the yummy ‘khichdi’ at lunch, it was time to sit with the newspaper making paper boats. They floated down the ‘stream’ that had by then replaced the road.
Rain is pretty umbrellas and colorful coats. Rain is intentionally soaking the shoes on the way back from school. Rain is steaming hot ‘khichdi’ with fried ‘hilsa’. Rain is creamy coffee with ‘pakodas’. Rain is snuggling in the couch with an interesting book. Rain is walking together under the same umbrella or simply without it. Rain is being silent together and feeling the warmth. Rain is daydreaming looking outside the window. Rain is observing everything turning freshly green. Rain is lazy afternoon listening to its music. Rain is loud happy croaking of frogs. Rain is paper boats in puddles. Rain is different shades of grey painting the sky. Rain is the colorful rainbow making it bright..
And among all these bits and pieces of various images of rain, I dream of one that I wish to turn into reality someday. Myself amidst the green. Holding a big leaf over my head. Raindrops making music. Insects and frogs accompanying it. And myself getting drenched….
Rain is my favorite too. And though I don’t have the ability to arrange my thoughts in rhyme and rhythm, my heart signs with the rain in perfect symphony. A leisurely day with the pattering music of rain outside and me relaxing in the warm comfort of a cozy corner allows my mind the pleasure to dwell in its romantic wanderings. However, trying to protect myself under the small safety of an umbrella on the way to work is not a picture that I welcome. A bright sunny afternoon turning dark with clouds bringing afternoon shower-storm is romantic. A dark sky for days together with everything drenched is gloomy.
I was working in the lab and noticed it turning dark outside the window. I had planned to leave in around half an hour; and checked online the radar image to know how strong a rain was coming so that I was not trapped inside again like the other day. The sky was playing with various shades of grey preparing for the rain. It already started raining as I was thinking all these. I quickly saved my work and turned off the computer, grabbed my bag, card and keys. The rain was already quite strong as I stepped out grabbing my umbrella. I walked in the rain, in almost empty streets. It had almost the excitement of ‘an adventure’. Sitting in the bus, I looked out the window. The heavy downpour made everything white. The wind swiped the rain in all directions creating whirlpools. Magnificent lightnings tore apart the darkness of sky. Showers this strong are not only refreshing; it is beautiful to look at. And it was more amazing to walk and feel this beautifully strong rain.
Afternoon showers in summer always remind me of ‘kalbaisakhi’ or Nor’westers in Calcutta. I love it. It was a hot humid afternoon in the summer holiday. Brother and I were busy playing. We noticed the corner of the sky turning dark. The darkness crawled and covered the sky in no time; and the still wind of the noon was turning into a storm. Bang! It was the window. With more banging sounds we hurriedly closed the windows. We went in the veranda to feel the storm. The wind on face felt good. It tasted salty, like the rock salt. This dusty salty wind was so refreshing for us. We were giggling. Soon the rain started. And the wind brought it inside the veranda. Each drop hitting my face made me smile more and more. I imagined myself in the rural Bengal, soaking in the rain. The setting sun shone brightly again with little water drops gleaming.
My lab has four big skylights. I always enjoy the pattering sound of the raindrops on the glass. It creates a pleasant music for a busy and tiring day at work. It was working with my sequences and listening to the music the rain was creating on my roof one noon. Suddenly the rhythm changed. Small pebbles of ice were creating a new melody. It was fast and funky. Refreshing and energetic.
I remembered the sound when hails fell on steel bowl. The same ‘tak-tak-tak-tak’ rhythm. It was one similar noon years ago. Bare foot I ran out to collect the hails. However, parents soon forced me back in the house. As I myself could not play ‘catching the hails’, I had put out a bowl to catch the hails for me. The rain stopped and I dashed out to count my collection. It was quite a ‘big’ one. Still, more tempting were those icy pebbles shining amidst the green grass. I had picked up a few and quickly put in my mouth. I still remember the stinging, desensitizing cold in my mouth. The frogs were croaking loud and happy.
I woke up before the alarm. Looking outside the window from my bed, I was annoyed with myself. It was darkish outside, suggesting some time around dawn. I had a couple of more hours before it was time to get up. But, one look at the watch showed it to be a couple of minutes. Now, frowning I forced myself out of the bed. As I stepped outside my apartment, the dark gloomy sky ‘welcomed’ me. And even though it was raining heavily, I had to go to work. Annoyed with this wet feeling, I had to walk towards the bus stop. I miss those ‘rainy days’ in school.
It started raining at night. And even in the morning the sun did not show itself. It was waterlogged all around. A day the school for sure would declare as a ‘rainy day’. Nonetheless, I of course had to go to school. It was much more fun to go to school, get a ‘rainy day’, and come back home drenched, intentionally jumping in the puddles. I walked to the bus, fighting with the wind and trying to save my overturned umbrella. The bus ‘floated’ to school. And then as expected, it was a ‘rainy day’!! Happily I returned soaked. After the yummy ‘khichdi’ at lunch, it was time to sit with the newspaper making paper boats. They floated down the ‘stream’ that had by then replaced the road.
Rain is pretty umbrellas and colorful coats. Rain is intentionally soaking the shoes on the way back from school. Rain is steaming hot ‘khichdi’ with fried ‘hilsa’. Rain is creamy coffee with ‘pakodas’. Rain is snuggling in the couch with an interesting book. Rain is walking together under the same umbrella or simply without it. Rain is being silent together and feeling the warmth. Rain is daydreaming looking outside the window. Rain is observing everything turning freshly green. Rain is lazy afternoon listening to its music. Rain is loud happy croaking of frogs. Rain is paper boats in puddles. Rain is different shades of grey painting the sky. Rain is the colorful rainbow making it bright..
And among all these bits and pieces of various images of rain, I dream of one that I wish to turn into reality someday. Myself amidst the green. Holding a big leaf over my head. Raindrops making music. Insects and frogs accompanying it. And myself getting drenched….
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