Chasing the train

‘Will it be on Saturday or on Sunday?’ Blaž eagerly wished it to be on Sunday, so that he can be a part of it. He was impatiently checking the forums. And then it was finally declared. ‘It will be on Sunday!!’

On Sunday, 18 March 2012, the locomotive 361-106 set off for its last journey to Illirska Bistrica, where it now rests as an exhibit. Series 361 with the nickname Breda (after the company) were the first electric locomotives in Slovenia and were operated by the Yugoslavian Railways. Yugoslavia got 17 of these from Italy as World War II reparations. Only two of their kinds are left in Slovenia, the other being plinthed at Central Workshops in Ljubljana. The 361-106 was decommissioned in 1978 as the last of those operating in Slovenia after operating for 30 years on the Pivka-Reka line. Then it had to wait around 32 years in bad conditions. Restoration of the outside began in 2010. It was painted to match the colors from its most known period in Slovenia. After covering a total of 3.8 million km (including Italy period), the locomotive 361-106 finally found its home at Illirska Bistrica train station.

The locomotive left the museum shed at 5 in the morning. Already around 15 people were waiting there to capture the moment. We however decided to wait at the Ljubljana station from where it would officially start the journey.  A couple of other people were waiting too. While taking the chance to photograph the other interesting train activities going around us, we impatiently waited for our locomotive to arrive.

Slowly we started spotting more people wearing these reflective vests for safety, and with every minute the number of these fluorescent vests around was increasing. Soon we could see the bright headlights of the helping locomotive on the bridge. The biggest diesel locomotive 664-117 brought the Breda number 106 to Ljubljana. The 664, known as “Reagan”, is quite magnificent in its old-school dark green color, and interestingly with an air of authority around it. Towed behind arrived the locomotive 361-106, the star of the show. It was the first time I saw the locomotive in real life. It looks vintage and grand. The combination of the unusual shade of green and bright red adds to its glamour and grandeur. It looks different, truly from some far away time. A piece of history.

By the time the locomotive came to rest, the platform was full of these reflective vests. And all of them enthusiastically busy with their cameras. I have never seen so many cameras and video cameras together in my life that do not belong to media and professionals. The platform was full of tripods. Some had gone down on the tracks to capture the locomotives from different angles. They captured the whole locomotive, the wheels, the specifications written in white, the emblem, and every other little detail through their lenses. There was this excitement, tension and rush that could be felt all around.

The 361-106 does not have its interior restored and therefore cannot run on its own. Hence, the diesel locomotive brought it to Ljubljana, where it was connected to another electric locomotive, 363-005. This electric locomotive is the only electric locomotive in Slovenia still in its original yellow-green livery. Both the front and back locomotives were required for safety in case Breda disconnects from any of the two, as it does not have brakes of its own.

The last journey of the locomotive 361-106 began at 6:30 from Ljubljana at 30kmph.

Breda 361-106 at Pivka station

 As soon as it left Ljubljana, everyone including us rushed back to our cars. The buzzing platform was simply empty the next second. The plan was to chase the train, follow it all the way on its last journey, and take pictures and videos at several spots. We stopped at Dolgi Most, close to Logatec, Logatec, before Postojna, before Pivka, Pivka, and Kilovče, until the final stop at Illirska Bistrica. On a few other occasions, we only saw the train passing by from the car. 

The short drive from Ljubljana station to Dolgi Most was nervous and tensed. As Blaž paid attention to driving, trying to go as fast as possible without being reckless, I was looking out for the train. We had to overtake the train and there were of course traffic lights, the situation was turning anxious and edgy. We quickly parked the car at Dolgi Most and almost ran by the tracks across the little railway bridge to get a good angle for pictures. Blaž said a quick ‘careful’, I muttered a hurried ‘yes yes’. As we assumed our positions, Blaž behind the camera and me with the task of taking the video, he reminded me ‘follow the green one (Breda) while taking the video’. Most of the times we are just excited about the yellow locomotive and in my enthusiasm and excitement I almost forgot that the green was the center of attraction for the day, not the favorite yellow. As we saw the three-vehicle formation with Breda in the middle approaching blowing whistles, I prepared myself to follow the green with the lens.

People were just rushing all the time. From nowhere people would arrive, ready with their cameras, all running to take their positions just before the locomotive would appear. And as the locomotives vanished behind a turn, it would be deserted in an instant. Everyone rushed to their cars to reach the next spot. It was like those chasing scenes in action movies. People just did not look at any direction. They reached a stop, rushed down to take pictures, and then left in haste for the next one. I enjoyed the tension and urgent rush all around me. People were in touch with each other over phone getting minute-by-minute updates. Getting annoyed at any missed picture opportunity. Blaž directed me about how to position myself and how the videos should look. He would have taken the videos himself had he not been busy taking pictures. And at one point he really did that. The right hand was clicking pictures; the left hand was steady taking video. Everyone was just so excited and eager!

At Pivka station, the locomotive had a long three and half hours stop. Besides the enthusiasts following the locomotive on its journey, several other interested came to catch a farewell glimpse of the locomotive. There was media doing interviews. People passing by stopped for a moment to get a picture using their mobile phones, dads showed it to their little children. Even for those who are not seriously interested in railways, this vintage locomotive was a fascinating sight. It was buzzing with activities all around. Everyone wished to capture a memory of the locomotive and the event.

They stood in a line. They were in attention with their lenses focused on the locomotive. The same angle, the same sight, and so many people in a line. They wanted the field of view to be cleared and either waited patiently or were annoyed at anyone loitering around in front of the locomotive. Everyone wanted to have a picture with the locomotive, and there was a queue to get a chance. Some people climbed the nearby tiny hill to get a different perspective of the locomotive, while somebody else climbed a tall lamppost. It was happy, amusing and thrilling to watch all the enthusiasm around. When you see so much excitement around you, the heart cannot help but race with the rest. I just exclaimed, ‘It is so exciting, interesting, and simply super fun’!

The most interesting part came when we got a chance to go inside the locomotives. Generally, one needs permission to be inside the locomotives and therefore it was a rare chance that we got. The officials eagerly explained everything and happily answered our enthusiastic questions. Blaž was especially happy to be on his favorite yellow electric locomotive. It was the most interesting one, maybe because it is the favorite one. Later at Illirska Bistrica, we even got a chance to ‘ride’ on it for a couple of meters and blow the horns. There was a chance to see the railway switchboard and get explanations about the complicated details of its working. Seeing all those buttons, levers, simple looking yet complicated machineries, feeling the heat from the engine core, one cannot be anything but excited and awed. And so were we. Like children in a candy shop, amazed at how everything works, and thrilled to get a chance to experience those. 

Before long, decorated in flags it was time for the locomotive to move towards its final destination. The leading and trailing locomotives blew loud horns as the train passed each station or any spectator by the tracks to say the last “hi”. At several points, it slowed down to 10kmph to make it easier for photography.

The tracks go by the tiny empty Kilovče station and under some road bridge connecting two hills. Blaž first decided to stand by the tracks but then thought the overbridge would give a better perspective. And instead of taking the longer road, he climbed the hill, just in case to not miss the train. Few more came at the last moment, desperately climbing the hill and quickly taking positions. In a few minutes, 15 people were at different positions and 7 of us stood side by side on the bridge. It was such a chase, an adrenaline rush! People were almost speeding, running, climbing!

The closer it came to the end, the more exciting it was. At the final stop Illirska Bistrica, around 70 people and media were there to welcome it. Amidst all the pomp and show, the Breda 361-106 arrived, both its younger cousins blowing their horns loudly. With recorders rolling and cameras clicking, the last meters of Breda’s long journey was captured in history. We had a last look at our vintage locomotive before leaving. After a long life of glory and then desertion, the locomotive 361-106 finally came to rest at Illirska Bistrica station. In the following weeks, it was moved to the spot it occupies today. And what a fun adventurous day we had chasing it on its last journey!! My little heart always wished to chase a train. And then I got a chance! And in such a grand way. As I repeated several times that day, ‘It was Super Fun’!

The girl in me..

I step on the crisp dried leaves and make them crunch. I blow whistle through the primroses. I dress up as Maya bee for the mask carnival and get a matching balloon. I love to swing and slide in the children’s park. I can hardly resist the temptation of dipping the foot in the tiny little stream. I still read fairy tales. I sing children songs and rhymes. I live the girl in me…

Whenever I seek for some comfort reading, when I do not wish to start a new book, I go back to fairy tales books and other favorite books from my childhood. A particular collection of Russian fairy tales was my first real storybook. And for years I had read the book almost every day. I knew every story by heart. I of course had my favorites. Even I would read to my brother every day after lunch his favorite story. I remember how I did not know reading properly when I started reading the book. Those 1-2 pages short folk tales with animal characters mostly were all I could read. How eager and excited I was each time I managed to read a longer and more difficult story. I loved all the stories with ‘Little Ivan’. ‘Baba Yaga’ intrigued me rather than scaring me. The book has completely worn out; the red paper covering the hardbound is gone. It was my very first folk tale book; and still one of my most favorite books. Often I fondly go back to its old yellowish used pages. I love reading it. And whenever I do so, the childhood glee and wonder fills my heart. I feel again like the girl making the first step into the world of books.

I still remember loads of children songs and rhymes. I am not someone who sings a lot or listens to music much. However, I love playing these children songs on YouTube. I sing these rhymes when I am happy. I quickly glance through and read a few of the rhymes in a children’s book at the bookstore. These rhymes do not necessarily have to bring along my childhood memories. I love the Slovenian intro song of the Maya bee cartoon. And when I first heard the ‘Vesele Račke’ song I just fell in love with it. It is funny that often times while driving somewhere with the car, Blaž and me are singing these songs. Sometimes he would start the ‘Hashbabaji’ and other rhymes I taught him, and I would happily join :). I love their sunny melody, the cherry rhythm in those meaningless lines, and the sheer glee of ‘smiles without reasons’ that they bring.

Leaves have always fascinated me. I used to collect leaves during our childhood mountain holidays. My most favorite are the compound leaves. I like the small leaflets neatly arranged on the stem. After coming to Slovenia, I started liking pine needles. Whenever I am walking in nature, I like to pick up a dried twig, a dried branch, or a tall blade of grass. If I find one, that always makes me happy. Somehow, I like to drag it around with me. I love the dancing of the dried leaves in the late autumn wind. And then, I discovered the pleasure of stepping on the crisp dried leaves. I step here and I hop there. Each time I relish the churching sound under my feet. I make a crazy zigzag on the pavement and the heart soars in innocent delight.  The carpet of dried leaves in the woods makes the loveliest music as I walk on.

The spring is a celebration of colors. The snowdrops peek their head through the melting snow. Soon after, there appears a dash of yellow there, some dots of blue here, a cluster of red by the road. I love the bright play of colors amidst the fresh green. We go for the ‘flower walk’, taking a nearby long path where we know different spring flowers bloom in the wild. And then I pluck a gentle yellow primrose growing by the road and blow air through it in a loud whistle.  My eyes shine in joy. A bit later in the summer as the dandelions start to get dry, with a mischievous smile I pluck one dried globe of dandelion and blow off all its seeds on Blaž. 

Whenever I pass by a children’s park I have this strong strong wish to slide down the park slide and soar into the air sitting on the swing. I am a lot shy and control my wishes when there are children around. However, never miss a chance when I am alone. And some children know that I can be their ideal playmate. Once when we visited Blaž’s cousin at their weekend house, the little one, Filip, wanted me to slide with him. The next moment we were sliding down his little yellow slide, the sounds of our laughter filling the air.

The Maya bee balloon

Slovenia celebrates this big mask festival at the end of winter. I went around the stores searching for a perfect costume. And was disappointed. Everything I liked was available only in sizes for children! ‘I don’t wish to dress up like that’, I thought as I checked the aisle displaying costumes for adults. I wanted to be the butterfly with the colorful wings made out of the shimmering material. I fancied being the bright red ladybug. I wished to buzz around as the cheerful yellow bee! Finally, I bought a bee costume for children. It was in the form of an apron. I decided to get it and work on it to fit my size. Face painting colors and a cute big antenna was bought. I paired it up with matching black and yellow colored dress. Lo and behold, I was smiling and shinning like a cute bee, just from the cartoon. Of course, Blaž also had to dress similarly! Buzzing around at the carnival, we saw this balloon seller with big Maya-bee balloons. I so much wished to have one. He insisted on me getting one. And bought one for me!! The rest of the day, I was walking around with the smiles on the balloon and on my face matching.

I like to chase pigeons. And watch frogs. I make a crown with dandelions and wear it. I always get this urge to put the unknown wild berries in my mouth. And every time I see a green slope, I wish to roll down. I can pretend to be an airplane running down some empty scenic road. I wear dresses with ribbons and bows. I just cannot help myself and stop being the little girl. She makes me smile every time :)

The red rose

It was February 14. In the local stores and gift shops, newspapers, magazines, internet, it was all about things that are red and romantic. Chocolates and strawberries in heart shaped glossy boxes, candle light dinners, balloons and other decors in the color of red and shape of heart were in high demand. Then of course, there were the roses that are red. Even there was a newspaper article about how the colder American and European countries were importing tons of red roses to meet the demands of Valentine’s Day. A red rose, the romantic, enchanting, mysterious symbol of love, holds also another different meaning for me. It is also a symbol of little wishes for me. A very special memory flutters around. Red roses always remind me of this little girl.

I was in eighth standard then when I requested my parents to take me to Shishu Bhavan (Home for Children), under Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity. Influenced by different little incidents, this strong wish of doing something for the children grew in me at quite a young age. I always had and still have a limited capacity of doing something. However, I have always believed in the fact that a little smile, a little gesture of love and affection, a little way to help even one child do mean something. And therefore, there was this wish. I wished to spend a morning with those babies, those little girls and boys. I wished to take for them some clothes. Spend the morning smiling with them. Of course, I also decided to take lots of toffees. Children love sweets, and a simple toffee can make them elated. 

 

It was the ninth day of our greatest festival in Bengal, the Durga Puja, when we arranged to go. I had already called them to ask for an appointment. The dresses were nicely wrapped in colorful papers. In the morning, dad had bought the bags of my favorite toffees. He also bought a bunch of fresh roses in yellow and pink colors. He said to put those in front of Mother Teresa’s picture there, an offering of respect. I was so happy and eager to go.

We rang the bell, and one sister answered. We told them our purpose of visit and were taken to the office where we handed over the clothes. The room was full of other big packages from all around the world, showers of love. I then made a request to meet all the children and distribute the toffees. They gladly agreed, and one sister took us around. Such a beautiful morning it was. The laughter of children and their cheerful babbles made the beautiful autumn day more glorious.

I remember the place as two separate buildings with a courtyard in between. The memories of the surroundings have faded, but the memories of those children are still fresh like dew drops. First, we went to the building housing the children aged 3-5. They all had gathered together in little groups, playing, creating noise, running all over the place. Just like children should be. An elder girl was there tying hair of a cute little girl into two braids. Some other girls had gathered around asking her to tell one story. They were all playfully busy.

As I went to each of them to give toffees, they looked up with surprise. But only for a moment, and then they smiled. Used to such visitations, they were very comfortable. Just inquisitive, curious and such adorable. ‘Who are you?’, ‘What is your name?’, ‘Why are we getting toffees?’, ‘Can we get more than one?’, they were full of questions. Their faces beamed as each one got the toffees. Some were shy and hid their faces behind others, some smartly asked for one more, some said a polite thanks as they were taught, some gave a shy happy hug, some just hurried back to their game. I kneeled down and sat between them. I hugged one, gently patted the cheeks the other, held hand of yet another. I was so happy amidst them. Their eyes were shining, faces smiling, glowing like little sunflowers.

The building also housed physically and mentally challenged children in upper floors. The sisters were caring for them, tending them. I remember this little boy without vision. He was standing in his big cot facing the window. I gently asked, ‘Do you wish to get a toffee?’. The boy turned around with a big smile and extended one hand. I gave him one. Those little fingers quickly wrapped the toffee, and he hid the hand behind him. And then with this most cute mischievous smile, he extended the other hand. With a smile I gave him another toffee. Now with both his little fists holding to the sweet delights, he gave me an elated smile and said in a cheerful way ‘I got two!!’. 

We went to the other building. Some girls, I think 5-6 years old, were playing in the big veranda there. I distributed the toffees among then. And I noticed a cute girl with chubby cheeks whispering something to the sister while looking at me. I still had the roses in my hand, and she wanted one. The sister told her to ask from me. She shyly came to me, and asked ‘Will you give me one rose? The pink one?’. I smiled at her and gave her the desired rose. Soon, the other girls got interested, and everyone wished a rose. I was so elated. I took each rose out of the bouquet and gave them to the girls. They smelled the roses, gently brushed the petals like some precious possession, one took out a petal and made it fly in the gentle wind. They looked all so happy. And the same glow of happiness filled my heart too.

We next went to the big room where children of ages 2-3 were getting ready. Some foreign delegate was scheduled to come and visit them later that day. As I gave a toffee to one little boy, the attending sister remarked how he would mess the clean shirt he had just changed into. The boy innocently replied ‘No sister, I won’t make any mess, can I have the toffee?’.  The sister gave an encouraging nod, pulling another boy in her lap to change his shirt.

The upper floor had a big room with infants in their little cots. I still remember the wooden board with the number of infants written with chalk, ’92 Girls 91 Boys’. They were a few days old, a few months old, all under the age of a year. Most of them were sleeping peacefully in their cot. Some had chewing sticks in their mouth. Some of them were awake, speaking incoherent words, kicking with their little legs, smiling gleefully. A baby was trying to turn on his tummy, another was trying to stand holding the rail of the cot. One baby sat there, trying to play with the red ball. The sister said, most of them were already ‘booked’ by families for adoption. It was a mixture of different feelings.

It was time to leave. We were in the big hall saying our thanks to the sisters. And suddenly from somewhere the little girl came running. The girl who had asked for the first rose. ‘Are you going now?’, she asked wrapping her arms around me. I said ‘yes’, gently touching her cheeks. ‘When you come next time, bring me a red rose, red one, will you?’, she asked with all eagerness. I could only nod and smile a yes. She ran back to her friends.

I could never forget that wish. And the girl. She wished for only one red rose. It was a simple wish, but her face gleamed with the most beautiful eager smile. I was so very happy that she made the wish. And at same time, a little corner of my heart became numb for reasons unknown. Innocent wishes that heart whispers, a red rose is also a symbol of those wishes for me.

Inside the tunnel

This January started for us with an interesting exploration. We walked on the track inside a train tunnel. And to describe the whole experience, I can only say ‘Super awesome’!!

One train enthusiast, who with his friend has walked on almost all railway tracks in Slovenia, traditionally walks inside Bohinj tunnel for quite some years now on 2^nd January. His friend and few other enthusiasts join in. This time he sent a sms to Blaž, inviting him to join the walk too. We instantly decided that we would go. It sounded fun and interesting. Blaž loves trains, and anything related to railway. Therefore, he was very eager. I am also interested in trains, though maybe not in such technical manner. However, the idea of walking in a 6 km long train tunnel definitely caught my attention and interest. I was looking forward to it too.

Bohinj tunnel is 6327m long, built in 1906. It was, at that time, one of the most important railway connection between Trieste and Central Europe. Presently it is the longest Slovenian railway tunnel. The tunnel has a slow uphill slope reaching its highest point somewhere around the middle, and then it again goes down. One interesting feature of the tunnel is the presence of water source deep inside it. Originally planned as a double track tunnel, there is now only one track. The other was removed to improve the drainage inside the tunnel. Left now with only the southern portal, a consequence of World War II, the tunnel stands there, still as the same important railway connection.

The plan was to take the train around 2pm on the other side of the tunnel and then walk our way back. Accordingly, we gathered at the station Bohinjska Bistrica around the time. The scheduled train was mostly for carrying cars across the tunnel and had only one small chair car. It took us around 10 minutes to reach the Podbordo station on the other side. It was fun to watch the cars boarding off the train. And then, we slowly started towards the tunnel for our walk. There was a bridge leading to the entrance of the tunnel. It was funny and a tad bit scary to walk on those iron sheets by the side of the track. Wow, I always wished to walk on a railway bridge! We let one locomotive pass before we entered the tunnel. And of course, a few pictures had to be taken. The weather was not particularly good, which meant that a constant draft wind would blow in our back. But that did not matter anyway; it only made things interesting. We were geared up with our flashlights and reflective vests; and were about to begin our in-tunnel adventure!! I was excited.

Bohinj tunnel.. Before entering..

We entered the tunnel. The first couple of meters still got the day light from outside. And then, we were enveloped in the darkness. The tunnel wall was covered with thick layer of soot and little coal particles. A result of all the smoke from the coal trains and the present diesel trains. I imagined my previous heritage steam train rides and the thick black smoke from the engine creating yet another layer of soot while passing through the tunnel. It was inches thick, a sort of crumbly yet hard layer. There were little coal particles shining like gemstones under our flashlights. At the beginning of the tunnel, there were little structures in the wall, strategic points to facilitate dynamite explosion in case the army ever needs to close the tunnel behind them. We also took notice of the architecture, how stone and concrete slabs of different sizes and shapes lay in perfect alignment.

The remnants of the second track were still there for the initial few meters. Then it was gravel and sand, a bit wet. Blaž and I walked on the tracks while others were walking on the side gravel. To me the track felt more comfortable. It was safe as we knew the schedule of the trains. And most importantly, that was what I always wished to do. During my numerous train rides to holiday destinations when I was little, I always wished to walk on the tracks. I always imagined how I would hop from one sleeper to the next. And even though I did do it before on some abandoned tracks, it was only for a few steps. I was always envious of the railway maintenance workers. Now, when I got one chance to walk kilometers on it, I was not ready to it let go. My heart made happy jumps as I stepped from one sleeper to another!

Inside the tunnel

Little posts marked the kilometers. Lines marked the nearest niches, which were each 100 meters. Some of the niches were bigger with telephone boxes etc. There were posts marking allowed speed limits and approaching signal or station. The signal was a nice glowing red, wrapped in the darkness. A few meters ahead, there was another signal glowing orange indicating the approach of a traffic signal. As we walked on and looked back, both the signals were glowing side by side. Further ahead, the signals merged into one. We switched off all our flashlights for some time, silently walking in the complete darkness. Rarely one experiences such darkness when literally nothing is visible.

At a point we had a scare that a train is approaching us from the opposite direction. We stepped down quickly from the tracks. Waiting patiently for a minute by the side of the track, we could neither see the light approaching nor hear the sound. There was no train scheduled at that time anyway. Soon we realized that it was the signal light on the other side of the tunnel, which we had mistaken as an approaching train. We were now almost halfway in the tunnel. The signal light left behind had vanished as the tunnel sloped up. The light in front of us was now marking our goal, the other end of the tunnel.

There is a big chamber inside the tunnel, almost like a room. Initially used for keeping tools and other equipments, now it is nicknamed as ‘ball room’. There we decided to have a picnic! Wow, wasn’t that fun! Having a picnic inside a railway tunnel! In the chamber there was an old table with two benches, some other higher table, and a old closet like thing. Everything had a layer of soot. Our first job was to cover the surfaces of the table and benches with old newspapers. We lit some candles. There were chocolates and cookies, and each had their own sandwiches. There was even champagne! Someone had some practical plastic cocktail glasses. We made a toast to the walk and the New Year.

The draft of wind outside the chamber had a chill in it. It was time for a train to pass. We went out to wait for the train in dark. Some had cameras ready. We saw the glowing yellow lights appear at the end. It grew bigger and brighter, but still there was no sound! The sound came much later when the train was already very close. We waved our hands and the train blew its horn a bit in response.  Soon the other two scheduled trains also went by. It was time to continue our walk. We gathered our trashes, and resumed walking. And more adventure was in store for us.

Soon we came across the first of the underground water sources. A concrete wall guarded the track from the water gushing out on it during heavy rains. Now however, there was only a little stream flowing through the lower pipe. It was a tiny narrow tunnel leading to the source some 25 meters ahead. We lowered ourselves down into this narrow tunnel for more exploration. We walked on the narrow bank, the water rushing past us in the little stream. It was a tiny walk towards the source. Through a narrow shaft in the rock-wall water was gushing out. Inside there was a narrow pool, someone mentioned at least 5 meters deep. The other two ends of this narrow tunnel only led to dead ends.

We were no more walking on the tracks, which were now at a higher level. During the rainy times, a stream would flow where we were walking. Now it was only a fast stream flowing under the track. From time to time, little vents were present, and we could hear the stream. There were a few other tiny orifices with water trickling down the wall. At places, the water had frozen into pretty ice sculptures. Soon we also reached the second water source. This stream was much more interesting and mysterious. It had two different shafts, both with water. The left one is short and strong, while the right one goes slightly up for about 20 meters. The strong water made both of them almost inaccessible. Now, the water was flowing under our feet as we walked on the concrete slabs for the remaining of the tunnel.

The red light at the end of the tunnel that we had seen from far now approached closer. We were at the end of our walk. Outside it was drizzles mixed with snow. There was a bit more walk to the station and I continued walking on the tracks as far as I could. At the station, we decided to wait a bit longer for the train at 7pm. And after that, it was time to go home.

I walked on the tracks. I walked in the longest railway tunnel in Slovenia. I spent around four and half hours inside a railway tunnel. We even had a mini picnic. Four trains passed us while in the tunnel. We saw the underground water sources. I even walked to the first one. There were beautiful ice sculptures. A fast stream was flowing under the tracks and us. Was it not exciting and awesome? It was. It sure was.

I returned home all happy, excited and full of stories. It was just Super Awesome!!!

Hanging the socks

Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh

Of all the Christmas carols, this was my favorite as a child. It announced that Santa Claus was coming soon with his big red sack full of gifts. And he had something for me too! Technically, Christmas was not a festival celebrated in our family. However, in the country where hues of different cultures and religions unify to create a vibrant picture, that does not really matter. As the little lights glittered, the bells chimed, tempting smell from bakeries filled the air, and Christmas carols were everywhere, I waited impatiently for dear old Santa. And the gift.

I do not remember the year I was introduced to this idea of gift giving around the Christmas time. As my grandma retells my childhood, I realize that it wasn’t really about Santa then. I celebrated getting something all over the winter. As she would call me to wake up in the morning, I would sleepily search under my pillow. And would refuse to get up unless I found the coveted ‘gift’. The ‘gift’ would usually be a carrot, a few peapods, an orange, an apple, a tomato etc, whatever was there in grandma’s kitchen. I love fruits and vegetables; and soon after brushing, would munch on those fresh produces.  I only remember those mornings in bits and pieces. I have this one faint image of me denying getting up from the bed complaining about the missing gift. My grandma hurried with a few pods of peas from her busy kitchen and kept it under my pillow. All the time I pretended to sleep with eyes closed.  On some Sundays, it would maybe be one bar of chocolate or a few lozenges. Sometimes I even got a coloring box or a new pencil. I knew that ‘Santa’ was my dida only, but never stopped believing in the story somehow.  I never stopped enjoying in those little moments of surprises.

The earliest real memory of Christmas I have was from the time when I was already a toddler in school. There would be a big Christmas tree in school, and one of the teachers dressed as Santa would distribute some sweets. We would enact the nativity play. When I was in the primary school, we would decorate our classrooms with paper chains and balloons and glittery decorations. We would arrange to bring a cake and have a little feast of our own. A fun filled and colorful day in the school before the winter breaks.

Where those cheerful banters filled the classroom, at home it was all about putting up the stockings on the Christmas Eve. We did not have a tree at home, not one to put the socks anyway. I used to decorate the little tree I made in the art and craft class of school.  Therefore, my brother and I would hang socks on our bedposts before going to bed that night. I took pleasure in imaging that putting on the longer stockings instead of shorter socks would make Santa keep a bigger box of gift by it for me. I never made any list for Santa, simply wished anything nice. In the morning, I would wake up to a big packet hanging on my bedpost.  In crisp paper-wraps would be some surprise gifts. One year it was some bright warm woolens, another year there was matching lunch box and water bottle for school. Sometimes I got books. There would be also some chocolates and other goodies. However, I do not remember getting any toys or similar things ever. Even though the gifts were always things I needed or things that were useful, they never ceased to make me happy. It was never about what were inside those packets. It is always about opening those packets.

The Christmas tree.. Gifts were already opened and loved..

Children, as they grow up, start doubting the existence of Santa. They make plans trying to catch the parents in Santa act. My brother did. That year around Christmas, he started to voice his doubt regarding the old man. On Christmas Eve, he went to bed after putting up the socks like usual. And then, he just pretended to sleep. Later at night, as my parents were hanging the gift bags by our socks, he startled them saying ‘Ma, baba, ami kintu dekhte pachi je tomra gift rakhcho!’ (Mom, dad, I can see that it is you who are keeping the gifts). My parents exclaimed, ‘Didn’t you sleep yet’!! I never opened my eyes to peek into the tale.

Maybe, because I always knew it were parents or grandparents sneaking in to silently put the gifts by the bed, I was never eager to remove the wrap of mystery. I was always keen on keeping my eyes closed and living in the fairy tale. I made myself believe that the packets arrived there magically from some old friendly grandpa like man. I liked to keep the Christmas gifts wrapped under veil of surprise and tales. I still do. The anticipation, will there be a gift in the morning by my pillow, underneath the tree. The excitement, what will be inside it? The slow careful unwrapping of the colorful paper. The ripples of instant surprise and happiness in my heart. This is all what Christmas gifts are about. As Blaž and I were wrapping up the Christmas tree last weekend, I was already eagerly looking forward to take it out next winter. I love decorating the tree.

And the child in me still loves to hang the socks on a Christmas tree. And waits for Santa to come and sneak in the house to leave a gift for her by the tree…

When he cooks for me

He loves making and of course drinking tea. Unfortunately, I do not drink tea. He is not really into cooking. He likes eating. And the best part is, even though he has his favorites, he eats almost everything. Therefore, I can happily carry on with my culinary adventures! However, it is not that he does not know cooking. He can cook simple and basic things. But, because he does not need to cook often, he does not have a feel about it. Whenever he is cooking, he tries to follow the recipe perfectly, to the T. If the recipe calls for cooking the onions for 10 minutes, he will exactly do that. I on the other hand will do that based on instinct and often add my own modifications. Thus, my experiments can yield all sorts of results from delicious to not so palatable. And that is why whenever he cooks, it is very tasty. Special..

My favorite dish cooked by him is some Indian chicken preparation with green beans and peanuts. It is just perfectly spicy and fresh. And whenever I wish him to cook something for me, it is often this dish. He also once cooked for me some simple pasta with tuna and tomatoes. Another dish I loved a lot. I love whenever he cooks. Therefore, this time for my birthday I wished a simple dinner cooked by him. I did not have any specific wish. Just something simple and tasty, maybe some pasta.. That was the plan.

In the afternoon on my birthday, before leaving work, he sent me email with three pasta dishes asking which one I would like most. We had decided to go to the grocery store quickly after work. With all the evenings almost spent outside around these festive days, my fridge barely had anything in it, except chocolates! I choose the pasta dish with lots of veggies; the other two had some heavy cream sauce which are not exactly my favorite. And even though only a limited variety of vegetables are available during winter, especially in the grocery stores, I thought it would be a more fresh and vibrant dish with whatever ingredients available. So, we went to the grocery store.

I chose mushrooms, carrots, asparagus, zucchini, and tomatoes for the pasta. Even though the broccoli was available, we would only need a cup of florets and did not wish the broccoli to stay in the fridge waiting for days and getting spoilt. He asked, “shrimps”? I was like, “no, this time let us just use vegetables and go with the recipe”. The only thing we decided to change was to not use the cream. I was really looking forward to the dinner and the evening as we drove home. “Fresh veggies and parmesan, a perfect combination it is going to be. Especially when he is cooking it for me”!

After reaching home, he started with the preparations for the pasta and I decided to talk to my parents a bit. Of course, before sitting with the skype, I helped him with the not so detailed instructions of the recipe. And while talking to parents also, I was there whenever he had any questions.

“Should I also peel the zucchini”?

“Yes, peel and cut into cubes”. The zucchini was neither very young nor bio.

“Should I start boiling the carrots and then add the asparagus after 10 minutes”?

“No need to boil the asparagus, you can sauté it with the other vegetables”.

I was answering him in between talking to parents. From time to time, I just went to the kitchen counter to supervise if all was going good. Somehow I was juggling well between talking to parents and helping him with cooking. And enjoying the whole thing.

“Do the mushrooms need peeling too”?

“No no, just give them a quick wash”

“And should I make thin slices”?

“No, cut them in halves or quarters, it will be nice and chunky”.

“How much pasta to use”?

And I went to him to take out the pasta for two.

The next big question was regarding the sequence of the vegetables for sautéing.

“First sauté the mushrooms until the water they leave evaporates, then add the zucchini and asparagus, finally when everything is almost done, add the boiled carrots and diced tomatoes”.

And in went the vegetables and the salt and pepper.

As I finished talking to my parents, I moved to the kitchen area. There was a large bunch of parsley lying on the board freshly chopped. On a plate, there was a generous portion of grated parmesan. The sautéed veggies smelled delicious. It was so tempting. Slowly it took the perfect shape as he added the pasta, chopped parsley and the parmesan. It looked vibrant. There was this mouth-watering smell in the air. I could hardly wait to take a forkful and enjoy in the delicate play of flavors.

He had already set the table. There was only time to take a picture for memory before we sat down. I wrapped my fork in pasta, and took a few bits of veggies too. There was a burst of different subtle flavors in my mouth. The chunky sweetness of carrots, the mellow zucchini, the succulent asparagus, the savory meaty mushrooms, the tangy tomatoes giving hint of tart, the fresh aroma of parsley, and the sharpness of parmesan, all created a beautiful medley. Wow! It was simply so delectable. 

Mmmm...

“Is it good”?

“Mmm..hmmm”. I replied in my strange way of saying yes. Between mouthfuls of the delicacy, there was no time to talk.

“Should I make it again”? Coyly he asked me, mimicking the same question I generally ask when I prepare a new dish.

“Yes, of course. I really like it. It is very good. And I would like you to make it again for me”.

It was really very delicious. Whenever he cooks, it is always so delicious. So romantic too.

“You should tell your girl to take breaks from her experiments, and cook more for her.

Now, shouldn’t you”?

;)

Walking towards mystery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A.. hmm... Happy Sunday!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All reasons to smile!

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

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

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

A very happy Sunday!!

Let's turn on the lights!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oneeeee..

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

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

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

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

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

Through the window..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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