Serene Sights…

As I sit across my balcony and try to work on my laptop, I cannot help diverting my attention from the screen ahead to the screen far beyond. It’s a beautiful evening with the most bizarre clouds and the ascent of dusk holds a promise of a more beautiful twilight.

The colours in the sky are fading fast and every time I look into my screen, the colours change, making it harder for me to describe the beauty.

It’s honestly so satisfying to take in this view. I see students from other colleges buzz about their hostels, dressed in formals, folders in hand, out to reclaim their destinies, get packages that make you go Wow. Would they but stop and marvel at the wondrous sky they’s be amazed at the power it holds.

A series of lights stare at me from the distant horizon, some twinkling, some steady. They seem to tell me to calm down and live this moment. To take it in like a wandered with throat so parched, he appreciates even the solitary drop of water. I take it in.

I heed you. The seemingly infinite, which can be expressed not in words. I’m tempted to offer you a picture, but for that I’ll have to bend into the room and get my mobile, those precious moments away from the gala screen, I do not want to miss. So I shall hold you to your imagination – of serene hills, an impressing hostel, and the pretty lights that twinkle like tiny stars, beckoning with a sweet smile and a message – Swalllow, Breathe and Smile, And all will be well! 🙂

#ThirtyTrinkets Day 17

It’s another happy day. I’m on a Rollercoaster ride. Despite having a long day at the academic block where I fought mental strife, controlled my sleep and lived with the pain in the ass (literal one, because I was sitting from ten to six), it was a pretty chilled end to the day. ( A shot-ful one if you know what I mean) Are you getting tired of my trinkets? The days never seem to end do they? That’s what happens when you undertake a project for yourself.

I am not happy with WordPress’s latest updates. Apparently my 2G net on the phone is not enough to upload the pretty(I like to believe they are) pics that need to go with my posts. Here I am, re-editing the post.

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I bought this in a relatively new gift shop in Kammanhalli when I was actually gift shopping for somebody else. (I forget who? Oh! Was it the Secret Santa that I had to gift in Office? I found this irresistible and got it because I knew if I hadn’t, I’d think and obsess about them for a while.)

 

Adios for now. I’m hoping to go out for a movie Tomo and get a lot done on the room scene too, it’s that day of the month when you really need to tidy up your living quarters.

So long.

The Glass Palace

I’ve been cooped inside my room reading Amitav Ghosh for the first time ever. It is taking me though an intensely riveting journey through the erstwhile little empire of the Burmese to the coastline of Ratnagiri district and then to Malay. Something tells me I need to brush up on my geography to keep pace with all the places. 

I can’t but marvel upon how the events of a person’s life becomes so immaterial in books. Youth, marriage, kids.. All are given but a fleeting mention and suddenly the protagonist is dealing with issues that are rooted deeply in the positions they have scoured themselves. I’m amazed at how this book is written with such a good buildup. I can imagine the greatness of the glass palace and I can almost taste the stench in the air when King Thebaw and his family are forced to endure the commonality of the house at Ratnagiri. Their fortunes as emperors forgotten because of the British ruler’s insecurities. 

There is such a strong element of realism in Ghosh’s work that it’s like interviewing and dissecting the lives of the people at close quarters. With every passing day, my personal opinion on love and familial relationships  are challenged and this work is a manifestation of the many doubts that our minds may possess. We are reduced to the depth or shallowness of our society and our personal inclination. You can always control just how much of yourself are  you willing to invest for the outward world. 

The Glass Palace is perhaps a metaphor of our own warped lives. It’s a boundary or our limitations. 

Lovely, lazy mornings…

I’ve just finished reading the Economic Times and I’m sitting on my bed, content yet curious. What do I do next?

It’s my first leisurely Sunday out on the hills. Yes, after a whole lot of pendulum-like behaviour, I’m a proud student of Symbiosis Institute of Media and Communication.

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It’s Symbi babe, Symbi! (*with a little swag*)

I’m enjoying the leisure that this holiday bring. It’s been 16 days since I moved in here and this is our first Sunday off. The azure sky is a pleasing to the eyes and the drizzle ensures a cool ambience. If I was playing the daring ‘Never have I ever’ game, then I could oblige if someone talked about never having read financial newsletters. When I come to think of it, I’ve actually enjoyed reading this.

 After waking up to the traditional rendition of Vande Mataram from the speakers (Yes, you wake up with a surge of patriotism every morning out here), we were asked to report to the ground at 6:30 A.M, or rather, as soon as we could manage. Sleepy eyed and tired, Prinks and I walked up to the wet mass of grass that was the football ground. Despite plastic coverings, the carpet was decidedly wet. Once the crowd amassed and we jostled for space, we sat on our haunches and grimaced. As if the cold on our backs wasn’t enough, the steady pattering of fine spray added to our discomfort. However, we persisted in our attempts to follow the instructors and do our bit to celebrate World Yoga Day. Dressed in a light-coloured tee and tracks, the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. We’d have to all go back and scrub these clothes clean. I sympathise with Hans Rosling and I wholeheartedly agree. The luxury of those washing machines have been grossly under estimated.

After a warm shower, a nice sleep seemed inevitable and I went back to sleep. I think I just tested the adage ‘Knowledge is power’. When I discovered that the mess breakfast included Idli and Poha, I withheld attempts of persuasion from my peers and resorted to ‘room’ food instead. Well, when I wouldn’t eat yummy mummy-made poha, there was no way I was going to give in to the mess poha. As for the idli, let’s just say we’ve all eaten better ones! The last minute purchase of the elecrtic kettle has been a pure blessing so far! Satiated with boiled eggs, some cream biscuits, and a hearty cup of green tea from my beloved yellow mug (So much for the weight-loss tamasha!), I’m ready for this Sunday on the hills! 😉