The Man who made his own Clothes

As children each one of us is taught who Mohandas K. Gandhi is. The Father of our Nation. Lovingly called Bapu. Non-violent leader. Born in Porbandar. Swadeshi. Satyagraha. Dandi March. We’ve drawn our National flag in our copies and written essays about our freedom fighters and had plays on Gandhiji on October 2nd. We’ve learnt it all, haven’t we? We know all about him. Or do we?

Back when I was in school, I read paragraph after paragraph about India’s freedom struggle and Gandhiji’s role in it, the main motive in my head would to be remember all the darned dates and the movements and the incidents and spilling them all out correctly on the answer sheets to win those straight As. Everyone would be so happy. Mom, dad, my teachers. Dad might get me that thing I’ve been wanting so bad.

That was all he was. An assassinated freedom fighter. A pair or round specs and a stick. A person who still smiles on our currency notes. I used to form my opinion about him based on what I would hear other people say. Never really bothered to form my own. I guess I never really cared. Until I saw Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi.

It fills me with astonishment to see a non-Indian, Ben Kingsley, playing the role of Gandhiji. Even though he was born a Gujarati, he never really lived in India. He is so frighteningly believable and brilliantly convincing, it's as if the real Gandhi resurrected to act in the movie. To get into the character, to walk and talk and behave and act and feel and portray who and what Gandhi was, in a span of three hours is an unbelievably astounding feat. This movie covers everything you would have ever studied with regard to India’s fight for freedom. Now I realize the power of Cinema; of motion picture. It never really touches your heart if it’s written in bland generic statements in your school textbooks, is it? You need to see it, live it, feel the emotions, witness the events that made him the man that he was.

The scenes that showed the Jallianwala Bagh massacre and the Dandi March gave me long lasting goosebumps. I had a lump in my throat as I sat back and witnessed the truest depiction of Gandhi’s life, listening to his inspiring words, looking at his infectious smile, all the time wondering how people make such movies. How they dig deep down into our history and pull out the facts and events and statements to produce something for us that would make our eyes water and hearts proud. Never have I been so touched to see a single, ever smiling man making such a global impact on the way people think and act.

Have you seen any other national leader so happy and jolly? He really makes me want to go back in time and just sit down and talk to him. Discuss my stupid problems with him and listen to him patiently telling me exactly what to do. Bless the movie makers for creating such a masterpiece. This movie couldn’t have been better. Although it still is merely a glimpse into the life of our Bapu, I couldn’t feel closer to him. Now I understand why Gandhiji is Gandhiji. Why Albert Einstein said “Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth.” Why he is the Father of our Nation. And why he is, by all means, and in all respects, and forever in our hearts, a smiling, immensely powerful, infallible legend.

“Whenever I despair, I remember that the way of truth and love has always won. There may be tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they may seem invincible, but in the end, they always fail. Think of it: always.”

-M.K. Gandhi

One Moment of Courage

Today I am going to tell you a story. This story is about someone who is a fun, almost neurotic person; quite like me actually. Also, she’s one helluva person; very pretty, and a very close friend of mine. Let’s call her ‘the girl’. Months and months ago, once when we were sitting in her room, trying to study for an exam the next day, discussing about her, uhm, ‘future’, I told her, “If this works out girl, I swear to god I’m’na write about this! I might even write a book!” Well, a book seemed a bit farfetched, so here I am!

It all started when I joined college and I befriended this crazy chick on the first day itself. Although we always hung out together, it took us a couple of months of open up to each other. And one day, while walking through our college campus, (bunking most probably), she told me. She told me about the guy who wore a red cap, each day, without fail. She had a crush on him. It had been a couple of years and she had done nothing about it. I’m going to refer to him as ‘the dude’. Being a Lebowski fan, he is going to feel flattered. (Yes, dude, you can thank me later)

Now I was surprised, because with her white skin and green eyes and all that jazz that makes guys get attracted to her like she’s a magnet, I expected her to fall for one of those chocolaty, extremely handsome, well-built type of guys.  While the dude, although very cute (dimples and stuff) didn’t exactly fit in the picture of what I’d imagined her better half to be like. But then she told me, it was his intelligence. Yep, believe it or not, more than the looks, a good, respectable girl looks for the brains and the personality in her boy. And he is one of those genius types of people. They belong to a different species, really. And I was proud of her. Now what unsettled me was that she literally chewed my brain for an entire semester, talking about him endlessly. And now I wonder, what did she talk to me about him man? She didn’t even KNOW him!

Many times, she would notice a red spot floating somewhere far across in the campus, and she would clutch my arm and go all “ohmygod Astha! That’s him! oh my god what do I do? Should we go? No that’ll be weird. We should stay here! Act natural. Ok pretend to talk to me!” And then till the time he’d pass by us, she’d fidget, and blabber nonsense, all the time holding her breath. It used to freak me out sometimes. He’s just a GUY for god’s sake! And if she wouldn't be able to catch his glimpse for a few days at a stretch, she would become depressed. It was crazy. I'd never seen anybody like that. 

I told her a gazillion times, “Talk to him girl! Just TALK to him!” And she would look at me as if I’d said something entirely impossible and unrealistic. There were times, when we would study together, and she would space out. And then suddenly, she’d become mopey and go all like “Yaaaar, maybe I should just stop thinking about him and move on. He’s elder to me and nothing’s ever going to happen. He’s not going to like me.” I would look at her in disbelief, “OFCOURSE he would like you, you crazy woman! Have you looked at yourself?!” And she would go on and on, every single day, and every time it’d be the two of us, telling me how much she likes him and how it’s all futile and how it will never work out. And I would roll my eyes in exasperation. Then I decided. Something had to be done.

Now, a friend of mine turned out to be the dude’s cousin. Let’s call him, uhhh, Billy. Now Billy knew about girl’s situation; so he offered to help. (Billy also happens to be girl’s cousin. Yes, it’s complex. But girl and the dude are not related). We had a maths exam coming up, and Billy asked the dude for help, and mentioned that there will be two other people with him. Now the fateful evening arrived. We were all at Billy’s place and girl’s heart was in her mouth. Anyway, we were deeply impressed from the way he taught us. Girl was half-unconscious and mesmerized. She jumped up and down, squealing like a dolphin after he left that day. However, she still did not add him on Facebook and did absolutely nothing except continuing to daydream about him. Things came to a dead end again. So I sent him a friend request myself. He accepted it and pretty much nothing happened for a few days. Except one day, on an impulse she sent him a friend request as well. Yes! Progress!

One day when girl was at my place, we saw that he was online. And even though she tried her best to stop me, I pinged him from her account and chatted with him and pretended to be her. She got up from the seat and rolled on the bed, screaming “Why did you do that?! What will he think?” While I just shook my head and continued to chat. Well, bless me, since then they began to chat every time both of them were online and I begun to feel that even he liked chatting with her. They talked quite a bit and girl had even printed her chats with him and hidden them in her drawer at home. I really hoped he would ask her out or something, but he probably had no inkling whatsoever that she liked him.

Days passed and girl became even more obsessive and crazy. My ears had turned sore listening to her talk about him and I was just hoping for things to move ahead. He was soon going to leave town and I was scared she won’t tell him about her feelings and it’d get too late. And one day, she heard rumours about him being in a relationship with another girl. She was crushed and said she was going to give up. I told her she had no proof that it was true and she would dig deeper and find out the truth. She told her bro and he told her that dude was single and had said something like “I’m looking for a long-term thing”. When she got to know this, she jumped and ran all the way over her best friend’s place and jumped on her car with happiness. But still, things didn’t move forward and soon it was time for him to go. Finally one day she told me that she had given up and it was over. I was disappointed, but I thought maybe it’s for the best and maybe now that he’ll be out of sight, he’ll be out of her mind.

So that was that. End of story. Time to move on. Except one day, I got a call from her out of the blue, where she was screaming herself hoarse trying to tell me something which I could barely understand. “What?! Stop screaming and tell me what happened!” I yelled. And then she told me. I opened my mouth wide and screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” It took one moment of courage. One moment of divine intervention. One miraculous moment. She had finally confessed her feelings and sent him a message on Facebook. He finally knew!

(to be continued..)

Pigeons and epiphanies

Ahh, it’s the monsoons again! :) In their truest form. It has been raining since three days. Not continuously, but a lot of it every day. Right now, as I sit by the window, it’s raining cats, and dogs and elephants and mammoths! Full on with the lightning and thunder and all that jazz. The rising smell of wet mud and the sound of water drops falling on the roof does make me happy. Although the rain is taking its toll on the electricity. It’s gone since morning. Sigh, that’s nothing new.

I’m having tea with khakhras that I got from Baroda. My mind keeps drifting back to that place again and again. The first few days there, I would forget where I was when I would wake up in the morning. I would get up, stretch and then look around, bewildered, expecting to be in my own room. I think about the frogs that would greet us at the staircase to didi’s apartment, I think about the patch of road filled with the fragrance of jasmine, of the moody, unpredictable stray dogs, of the little patch of grass in front of Cinemax. I think about the evenings spent looking at squealing laughing children on the roundabouts and being envious of their innocence and their hakuna matata existence. I think about the free, lonesome days I spent alone, thinking, speculating, working, lying listlessly. Carefree and at peace. I think about the evenings, the conversations, the long walks, the careless laughter, the jokes, the elation.

I often think about the terrace. Way too often. I think about the endless discussions under the stars, pizza with music playing on the cellphone, the hugs accompanied by the breeze and the last minute sniffles.


I think of how I had spent my last morning there, lying under the sky, watching the birds flying above and thinking about things like how pigeons are such unimportant birds. I observed them sitting on a wire, six of them, shaking their wet-after-the-rain feathers, scratching themselves with their beaks, pecking each other and walking on the ledges with their necks craning back and forth. They were the cutest things I’d seen recently. They were neglected because they were everywhere. If those birds were kingfishers, would I have not taken my phone out and clicked pictures. Would I not have told everybody about it? Rarity makes everything so precious. If it’s there, you take it for granted, if it’s not, then it’s valuable, then everybody wants it. Maybe that is why some people who are loved and smothered too much do not realize how lucky they are. They don’t appreciate the importance of the people who care about them. Like, ‘Yeah my mom loves me, so what? She’s always been there’. While people who are deprived of it, are overwhelmed and overjoyed by a small, simple act of kindness. Okay, just an opinion. You can beg to differ, obviously. This is just one way to look at it.

(the terrace)

I have a mountainful of things on my mind these days. I feel like writing a lot of but I’m occupied with a lot of other things. I’ll be back after this weekend. Lots to share. It’s refreshing to write a post! All the people who read my blog: thank you, really! I guess I must admit that although I do not like to be judged a lot, I do feel good when I share my feelings with everyone. It’s one of the little joys of life. And now, as I’ve reached the last sip of my tea, I’m going to close my eyes and make a little wish. Please pray for it to come true bloggie-readers! Catch you very soon!


Oh, and the power's back :)

Heart of the Sunrise

One day when I’ll be all old, stiff and wrinkly, sitting by myself in my vegetable garden looking at the birds and thinking about the good ol’ days, I’m sorely going to miss this phase of my life. It’s 3 AM at night, ‘Heart of the Sunrise’ is playing in the background and the weather is rainy and beautiful in a sad sort of way. I have had yet another heartfelt conversation with my best friend, after countless of them since 19^th May 2010.

It is so amazing to feel this way. The rush of hormones, the extreme sense of satisfaction, the feeling of being alive, the sudden urges to break into a little jig while walking down the road, the smile that spreads over your lips even in serious situations, recollecting memories and playing them over and over and over again in your head, laughing over sentences spoken into the phone, staring off into space, dreaming, listening to your favourite songs and relating with them, the peace and the exuberance, knowing you can never ever ever feel lonely again. The feeling is too powerful to be described.

I wasn’t aware I was capable of feeling like this. It’s like I do not regret any mistake that I made in life; because they all led me to this. I have grown so much as a person over the past one year. It’s hard to believe one person can make such a difference. It’s unbelievably amazing. I feel like I am high. And it’s the purest feeling in the world. Life is like a sunny beach, with the breeze blowing across your face and the waves lapping at your feet and there is a pleasant sense of happiness. It is exhilaratingly beyond belief.

At times like these you wonder if everything that happens in your life follows a predetermined plan. If everything that happens, does happen for a reason. Then you have very little to complain about. You’ve a cushion, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, a goofy pal who’ll always make you feel better. You feel like you can go through anything; and that life has a purpose. And that all the shit that life throws at you, all the mean, rotten things you’ve to face since the time you’re born, all the pain and the tears and the anguish, they’re all worth it. Even a moment of experiencing this bliss, is worth it. Is worth it all :)

The King

He descended down the staircase, the crown steady on his head. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked at the vast expanse of land in front of him. “It’s all mine.” Determined, he moved forward, slowly, inspecting everything carefully. His eyes sparkled as his firm feet moved over his territory, his cloak touching the ground as he walked. Timothy, his lifelong companion and friend, followed him closely, alert, looking out for any kind of danger. He wagged his tail as his master stopped to pat his head and gave him one of those little treats he would keep giving him from time to time.

“We need to keep moving Timothy. We have to accomplish the task today in order to save our kingdom. Our family is in danger. Now, are you with me?” He smiled as he saw his faithful dog letting out a yelp. They still had to walk miles before they’d reach their destination and the terrain was becoming difficult to tread. The sun was beating down hard but he knew he couldn’t afford to stop. His people counted on him. His empire was in trouble and his soldiers were incapacitated and everything lay on his shoulders.

He thought of the time when everything was good. When he was the king, when there was joy and prosperity and abundance. When the sun used to shine and flowers used to bloom and the birds sang. When he had the freedom to do what he wanted. He was the leader, and he ruled the people’s hearts and souls. But things had changed. He saw this as a test, a challenge rather than a time of despair; he had to prove his mettle and was not ready to give up.

Finally, weary and thirsty, he reached the spot. And there he saw them. Gleaming in the sunlight. Huge, yellow machines, taller than most buildings. He ran towards them, as he saw some other rivals approaching them fast. He sprinted faster than his legs could carry him, and lunged into the piles. He scrambled, with Timothy by his side; he looked all over, dug deeper and deeper. Nothing. He had to find something.

Something, anything. Absolutely anything. He looked around desperately; in a frantic struggle to find the things he was looking for before the others did. Finally, he saw something. He lurched towards it. Yes! It was a piece of bread, hard and crusty at the sides, but eatable. He hurriedly kept it in an old plastic box he found somewhere nearby and moved ahead. One by one, he filled his bag with valuable commodities his family was in dire need of. An old apple, plastic bottles, a half-eaten samosa, a handful of potato wafers in plastic bags, a rotten banana, corn, a pair of different old slippers...

 He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his little hands and removed the tin foil he was wearing over his head. He removed the old rag around his neck as it began to itch. He looked at the other kids as they fought over a packet of sealed biscuits somebody had found in the huge dump yard. Timothy looked at him with sadly hopeful eyes, and then began to scratch the fleas off his skeletal body. “Later, boy. I promise you won’t sleep hungry tonight.” He reached the first aid camp, and went to his ailing mother in one of the tents. Flies hovered over her red, infected stump. She had lost her leg due to the earthquake and though it had been days since it happened, she was still screaming. More with terror and grief than with pain.

They had their baby brother and their house since the natural calamity struck. He could not find his best friends and there was destruction all around. Broken houses, broken roads, broken limbs and broken hearts. Not to mention the diseases and the fierce scarcity of food and medical aid. For the first time in his life he knew what starvation meant. His entire body would convulse with pain as the hunger pangs and exhaustion would take over.  But even that took a backseat when he saw his mother. And the other people all around him who were dying at an alarming rate. He was becoming numb to it now.

He went up to her side and said “Mom, I have food for us tonight.” He took his baby brother in his arms and watched him as he devoured the bread in one second. He just looked as his bag was snatched away from him and the contents were wolfed down instantly. “One day it will be over. All of this, all of this will be over. And things will be normal again.” False hope or unbelievable optimism? He looked out into the space with a distant expression on his face. He was going to be the king again. Some day. And as sick people cried around him, a smile spread across his face. He was far away. 

Yes Yes Yes!

I've never been a big fan of Astrology and zodiac signs. I fail to understand how people are categorized into groups with similar characteristics. I mean, how is it possible that all the people born during a certain time of the year have similar qualities? Sounds a little absurd, if you ask me. But some of my friends are firm believers and they even tried to explain it to me by telling me it’s got something to do with the positioning of planets yada yada yada. (They even judge other people based on their sun sign.)

So when I read the basic features of a Scorpion (which is me), I did relate to many of the things. So somehow, a teensy weensy part of my brain thought maybe, just maybe all this is true to some extent. I completely agree with basic three things the website said about Scorpions. They’re: passionate, obsessive and emotional.

Currently I’m obsessed with this song called ‘And You and I’ by this band called Yes. And like so many other times, with so many other songs in the past, I've been listening to it over and over again, endlessly. The more I listen to it, the more I want to listen to it. It’s a continuous loop I tell you! It’s a beautiful, harmonic, soulful, deep track and it makes me sprout two wings on my back, fly up to a tall cliff and stands amidst the clouds, fall free from there, and then fly up just before reaching the ground [swooooosh!] higher and higher into the sky. Uh, pretty graphic, I know. It is unbelievable! The guitar, the bass, the high pitched yet poignant voice of Jon Anderson, the harmonies, the melody! OMG, I LOVE IT!

It makes me feel why the era of such amazing, rock music with their soul stirring lyrics and breath taking stage performances; turned to a generation of nasal black people hopping about and preteens (who sound like girls) romancing older girls on the screen. And it makes me wonder how people can prefer to ignore bands like Pink Floyd, Simon and Garkunkel and Radiohead who come up with songs that talk about, love, life, peace, nature, war and the deep convoluted emotions of people like you and me; and listen to songs that talk about human bodies and the act of fornication in the most vulgar way. I want to go live in the 1970s and attend a Yes concert and jump and scream like crazy, and tear my hair and clothes apart and probably burn the entire place down with the excitement and exhilaration of merely being there and witnessing such awesomeness! The song is par excellence! Par brilliance! Par beauty! Par par, dil ke aar paar! (Okay, I know I need to be kicked hard for saying that last bit, but what the hell!)

Check out the lyrics:

Part One: The Cord of Life

A man conceived a moment’s answers to the dream,
Staying the flowers daily, sensing all the themes.
As a foundation left to create the spiral aim,
A movement regained and regarded both the same,
All complete in the sight of seeds of life with you.

Changed only for a sight of sound, the space agreed.
Between the picture of time behind the face of need,
Coming quickly to terms of all expression laid,
Emotion revealed as the ocean maid,
All complete in the sight of seeds of life with you.

Turn round tailor, coins and
Assaulting all the mornings of the crosses
Interest shown, never know
Presenting one another to the cord, their fruitless worth;
All left dying, rediscovered cords are broken,
Of the door that turned round, locked inside
To close the cover, the mother earth.
All the interest shown, they won’t
To turn one another, to the sign hide, hold, they won’t
At the time tell you, watching the world,
To float your climb. watching all of the world,
Watching us go by.

And you and I climb over the sea to the valley,
And you and I reached out for reasons to call.

Part Two: Eclipse

Coming quickly to terms of all expression laid,
Emotion revealed as the ocean maid,
As a movement regained and regarded both the same,
All complete in the side of seeds of life with you.

Part Three: The Preacher and the Teacher

Sad preacher nailed upon the coloured door of time;
Insane teacher be there reminded of the rhyme.
There’ll be no mutant enemy we shall certify;
Political ends, as sad remains, will die.
Reach out as forward tastes begin to enter you.

I listened hard but could not see
Life tempo change out and inside me.
The preacher trained in all to lose his name;
The teacher travels, asking to be shown the same.
In the end, we’ll agree, we’ll accept, we’ll immortalise
That the truth of the man maturing in his eyes,
All complete in the sight of seeds of life with you.

Coming quickly to terms of all expression laid,
As a moment regained and regarded both the same,
Emotion revealed as the ocean maid,
A clearer future, morning, evening, nights with you.

Part Four: The Apocalypse

And you and I climb, crossing the shapes of the morning.
And you and I reach over the sun for the river.
And you and I climb, clearer, towards the movement

And you and I called over valleys of endless seas.

As you can see, the song is divided into four parts. I tried hard to interpret the meaning of the song, but essentially, what I could come up with is that this is a song about love. Undying, endless, immortal love. Sniff ;) Also, almost all the other Yes songs have this... feel about them. You'll know what I'm talking about once you listen to them.

Anyhoo, this song holds a special place in my heart for various reasons, and it’s one of the most enchanting songs I’ve heard. Youtube it right now and experience the magic!

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

I seriously hate it when people ask, “It’s just a movie! Get over it!” Or when they say, “Do something productive instead of watching movies!” Have you even tried to even wonder what pains these writers and directors go through before they present award winning movies in front of you people? It’s easy to say “Oh, that movie was shit, and it didn’t deserve the Oscar”! What do you even know?!

Think about all the research, painstakingly deciding on the cast, the screenplay, the script writing, the music selection, the costumes, the tiniest little details that these guys pay attention to. I seriously respect all of it, down to a movie’s smallest aspect and feature. It is heart wrenching and emotionally satisfying when you get engrossed in the characters of different people, their stories, their lives, their emotions. All in one and a half hours. They teach you, educate you, touch the strings of your heart and move you in the deepest ways possible. Such a movie is this one.

Every time after I finish watching a good movie, I ponder over it, form these opinions; decide to write about it but always end up not doing that at all. But I just had to write about this one. This movie, (given to me by one of my favourite people in the world) shook me to my core and opened my eyes, wide. ‘The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas’, directed by Mark Herman, is more than just a movie. It’s the face of innocence, timidly peeping out behind a wall of hatred and inhumanity.

It’s the story of two little kids; but then it’s not. It’s the story of companionship and childhood; but then it’s not. It’s a tale (based on the book by John Boyne) of an eight year old boy Bruno; the son of a Nazi officer who is shattered when they move from his hometown to an alien place. Lonely and bored, he wanders off in search of adventure and comes across a little boy sitting in blue and white striped pyjamas behind an electric fence. And then what ensues is the strangest friendship that ever existed between two kids. They talk, they share, they laugh, they play; all the time with the fence acting as a permanent barrier between them, oblivious to all the horrors and monstrosity that surround them. Bruno doesn’t know that his new best friend Schmuel, is the inmate of a German concentration camp.

When Bruno goes inside the camp himself to help find Schmuel’s father because he was ‘lost’, does he see what it is actually like inside. Starvation, diseases, dehumanization, death, hopelessness, torture, pain, and of course, the gas chambers. When I studied World War II in school and read about the Germans and Hitler and the concentration camps, I merely mugged up the number of deaths like it was just that. A number. It’s when you see something like this that you realize how disgustingly brutal and sickening it really used to be. People, naked, unaware and helpless; burnt and killed and roasted in a chamber like animals. Worse than animals. Makes you shudder, and makes you feel ashamed to be a part of the human race for it is capable of such carnage.

And yet the movie is essentially about the warmth and purity of the time when you are kids. So naïve. So guiltless. Despite of all the blatant display of the hideousness, it is beautiful. Bruno was like a flower that tries its best to stay on the surface of the water, before being drowned by all the filth and muck around it. The ending ripped me apart and left me red-nosed and sniffing. It is the most depressing, eye-watering and lip-quivering ending I’ve ever seen. In fact, I was so touched I read the book as well. And they have done full justice to it. Do yourself a favour and watch this movie. Please. It is going to be some experience. Watch it and tell me it didn’t make your heart stop for a second in the end, I dare you.

P.S. And if it doesn’t, what’s wrong with you?! Made of stone, are we?!!

Happy Tree

I love the typical homely smell that welcomes me when I come home after a stay out of town. I love using my old mint facewash that leaves a cool sensation on my face after I use it. I love it when mom lays out clothes on my bed and they smell of fresh fragranced detergent. I love to see the potted plants happy and green blossoming with pink and purple flowers in my verandah upstairs. I love giving warm cuddly hugs to mom and dad. I love to see my grandparents smiling and firing a thousand questions at me (at the same time). I love how huge my PC screen looks suddenly. I love my Activa, which I can use whenever I want to and ride it wherever I want to. I even love that ridiculous ‘hip hop’ poster in my bro’s room. I love that one, pestering, relentless mouse that seems to have a strange relationship with my house and has vowed to keep returning again and again no matter how many times he’s thrown out. I love the smell of soft, homemade rotis, inflated, and right off the pan. I love being jumped on and licked endlessly by Shirley (and also, almost getting my saliva-laden clothes torn off and arms scratched and bruised in the process)

I love my room, my terrace, my colony, the gulmohar trees and even the after-rain-broken-at-places-roads. I’m happy. Even though it’s painful to think of the coming few months. College. Assignments. Tests. Exams. THIRD year of Graduation. It wasn’t easy to bid goodbye to Baroda. That place has been so wonderful to me. I think it will continue to be one of my most favourite places for a long, long time. No, scratch that. It will be one of my most favourite places forever. Such fun, such freedom, such amazing moments, such pure, unadulterated, sheer joy bubbling and bursting at the seams. I want to capture them all, freeze them in time, and replay them over and over and over again. I still can’t stop recollecting all those crazy wonderful things I did there. I call it climbing my happy tree!

Life has held my hand in the most tender way possible, and its leading me on. And I’m too glad to follow. I know I’m back home and I won’t be allowed to do whatever I want to do, but I’m happy. I’m back to the place where the electricity will keep spacing in and out, but I’m happy. I know the dreamy, amazing fairytale phase is over, and I’m back to my hot, dusty, little town; but sitting here with Shirley’s warm fur resting on my knees, looking at the light drizzle outside and feeling the familiar white cold floor below me, I truly am, in just one simple, plain, but tremendously significant word: Happy! :D

P.S. On a completely different note, do you like anime? I think it's beautiful! :)