Lazy Saturday…lazier Sundays….

Posted in Facebook on Saturday, April 18, 2009 at 8:26pm

I would have loved to write about how I did all these wonderful things today and how they make me feel so proud of myself…would have loved to set an example of how to utilize the weekend in the most efficient way and live up to the image of the resourceful intellectual girl most people take me for. But guess what, it is with immense satisfaction that I say that I have just spent the most unproductive day in my life that I’ve known so far. And believe me, there’s a warm good feeling inside me inspite of, or maybe because of it. Because I have just discovered for myself that there is great beauty in doing absolutely nothing at all. I mean, it is an art in itself! Tell me, how many people can boast about a blank mind, free from any thought whatsoever and the constant anxiety about having to “do” something, at any given point of time?

I can safely say I spent the entire day with a permanent “Duh?” written on my face…so much that anything remotely cerebral needed to be said twice to me before my mind could register it. I was in that ecstatic world of movies and music where I could let my mind drift and float and gather daisies and make pretty chains out of them for all I care….I mean, do whatever it wants with nothing holding it back. I now know what it is to do a Jughead and a Moose at the same time…my room literally smells of sloth and my bed has laziness written all over it. And even though my body aches from not moving a single muscle except maybe to bat my eyelids and my fingers moving over the mouse pad, I have never felt better!

And today I have found out what pleasure there is in being able to have coffee and biscuits for lunch just because I feel like it, and waiting till that nice time in the late afternoon just before dusk when the air is not too warm yet not too crisp, to have a long shower…long enough that I’ve got raisins for my fingertips. And when I come back from my bath feeling fresh and fragrant and new, my room hugs me with old warmth the way that only somebody who has not been parted from me for an entire day for more than seconds at a time can do. I have found out firsthand the bliss there is in not worrying about “doing” something, anything….and telling myself I have got absolutely nothing to do….even though all the assignments lined up and my unopened textbooks call me a liar.

For a person like me who always likes to plan things way ahead, who believes in organizing and scheduling time for everything and whose mind is perpetually a disoriented slideshow of multicolor snapshots with no common theme, it is nothing short of a major triumph, to be able to sleep on her bed all day long with half closed eyes glued to the laptop screen, lips slightly parted, and mind and heart totally impassive…and to live through the day without a single guilty feeling.

So here’s to doing nothing at all….to being independent in the truest sense of the term, like the way I feel I am independent from my own self today….and to the art of not thinking, for a change.

And here’s one for the nose….again!

Posted in Facebook on Tuesday, April 7, 2009 at 12:45pm

Now, anybody who’s ever been close to me will know or rather “smell” the fact that I am a sucker for good smells….and they, if I may quote Wodehouse here, may “let their attention wander for a few moments” while I go on about these awesome perfumes I’ve come across in the past few months. As I have already mentioned just about a hundred times to anybody who’s known me for so much as five minutes, its my dream to have a decent collection of them ridiculously expensive darlings and have a veritable feast for the olfactory senses right on top of my dressing table. And its with immense pride that I hereby declare that I have taken baby steps to fulfilling that dream of mine….

Really, am no perfume connoisseur…. I mean, I can’t say what is the first note of a perfume, except that maybe it’s the first whiff that hits your nose the moment you spray the perfume. I don’t know what are the base notes or whatever they are called…..the fragrance that lingers on hours after that first hint. Maybe there’s also something called a second note….the scent that you get just after the first note…. I don’t know. (Must have read about it long time back in a fashion magazine, but its totally slipped out of my mind now.) And guess what, I don’t care. I believe the technicality totally ruins the essence of the miracle called perfumes. I really don’t like perfumes being evaluated and then rated as good or bad or “totally un-smell-able”. Because to me, a perfume is so much more than just some spirit you spray on to smell good, or a mere product you analyze and then market based on that evaluation and then earn big bucks from.

To me, each perfume paints a picture…it really does. And to me, each person comes with a perfume, or the memory of one, attached to him or her. But I have already talked about “other people” smells haven’t I? So I won’t go into that. Instead I have to come to the point which I should have come to in the first place without rambling on and on about everything else.

Souls and Senses.

An awesome, awesome perfume from Mont Blanc….technically has “floral as well as fruity” notes….and is suited for both day wear and evening wear… but to me, it’s the perfect picture of everything clean and fresh and good. It smells to me exactly of Sunday mornings when I was still in school…. it reminds me of the fresh feeling I would have after a lingering luxurious bath and a nice shampoo after an interval of a week… and strangely it reminds me of the way the sun felt on my face as I would look up with my hair sopping wet and water trickling down my neck and my face…..and the way my hair would keep smelling all day long…and yes, also my pillow, when I wake up the next morning. It brings to my mind every happy feeling I had at that point of time….about how happiness depended on so simple things. Sigh! Kudos to Mont Blanc for being able to trap that into a bottle (very nice one, too….another reason for my loving it)

And while I’m at it, how can I forget “Love Her Madly”? Now this perfume from Revlon happens to be my personal favorite, has been for a couple of years now. And that’s because its everything that I want me to be. The dominant notes are roses and lilacs, and honestly, the combination is so very feminine the only thing that will come to your mind when you smell it is the colour pink. To me, it brings to my mind an image of a beautiful single girl on the verge of womanhood, not yet touched by the cares of handling a family….not yet so bogged down by responsibilities that she doesn’t have time to take care of herself. Somebody, maybe, who’d get her manicures and pedicures done regularly without fail….would never have a single hair out of place….and who would be elegant without consciously trying to be. And yes, somebody oh so beautiful you can’t get enough of her… Well, that’s exactly what “Love Her Madly” paints for me. And yes, the fact that it does come in a pale pink hue just pledges my love for it.

And lastly, my precious, my love at first sniff….”Ravish”, a perfume from Ajmal. But some background to it first. Rewind back two and a half years when the place called “Cube” was inaugurated in Guwahati and the first time I go there I see this awesome perfume shop inside and I feel like I’ve reached my paradise except that I never had the courage to go inside. But end of the last year fate finally takes me there and gives me one chance to sniff to my heart’s content. It must be no surprise that it took me almost an hour before I could make my choice, and when I finally came out holding that perfume in my hands (close to my heart) I seriously felt that life really couldn’t have anything more beautiful to offer to me. “Ravish” brings to my mind an oriental party….a thick carpeted floor, maybe with a warm red rug thrown over it as well…and the low hum of greetings and people exchanging pleasantries…and the next thing that does come to my mind is a “pro-pah” lady in the midst, somewhere in her fifties…somebody who’s grown old with grace, whose eyes, with laughter lines around them, tell you just how beautiful she must have been when she was young. A lady with pearls on her ears and her neck, clutching a silk purse….her hair done up in an elegant bun and a silk shawl draped on her shoulders….you know, silk and pearls and all things “classic” you can ever imagine, that’s the picture I see each time I wear Ravish.

Call me over-imaginative, but I feel for all those who can’t see a picture with their nose (of all things) like I do. And just to spare those people from further misery, I stop here before I go overboard.

“Its a melancholy of my own…”

Posted in Facebook on Saturday, February 7, 2009 at 6:26pm

Life is a bitch….big time. And don’t think I’m saying this because at this moment life and I are not exactly the best buddies (no, that, is a different story altogether). Ask anybody who calls himself a realist worth his salt and he would, I guess, say the very same thing. And we all agree that it is so because you never can put your faith in that cunning little thing for long! There you go about, minding your own business, doing what you are supposed to (that is, in case you don’t know, living…the whole breathing in, breathing out thing we do) and wham! Life strikes when you are hardly prepared for it, and you are left with a bloody nose and stinging eyes and hey, you can’t even complain…cause you know — that’s life. That’s what everybody says.

I prefer to take a slightly different perspective to life as a whole. Must be the influence of the girls’ guide lessons I heard about long time back…and their motto. Be prepared. Having been dealt with innumerable such blows, I emerged wiser (can’t say stronger, though). You know, much like the protagonist of any movie worth calling a movie who takes the worse of the first half of the last fight (leading to the climax) against the superbly strong and muscular villain…. and then rises like a phoenix from the ashes to deliver the coup-de-grace. And over the years, I’ve come up with a few strategies of my own. Now the fact that they never do actually work when it comes to the real deal hardly makes them any less brilliant, does it?

And that’s how I came up with stuff like “Don’t give a damn to what happens next, you can’t do anything about it anyway”, “Nothing ever happens without a reason…the one up there is a big chess player, planning out his next moves ages before he makes even one”, “To fall in love is simpler than it looks like, and to fall out of it all the more confusing”….

Have been putting a lot of thought to it off late…to the last thing, I mean. Now love, has always been my forte. I used to think of myself as something of an expert in that, having been an Agony Aunt for years now. But it is only now that I know the most bitter lesson…and I’ve learnt it all on my own. They didn’t teach that part about being realistic the day they taught me about love. They didn’t tell me that in a world where every single thing has  some modicum of reason behind it, love is the most  irrational thing one can think about… and most importantly, that loving somebody does not necessarily imply a happily ever after. That when you fall in love, more often than not its with the “can’t live without him” types, but when you start thinking about a future, it has got to be with the “can live with him” types. Its always been like that. You find a guy who’s so awesome you feel like you’ve never done before. You experience passion you never even knew existed.

And then one day, the passion dries up…and you wonder what went wrong. And that’s exactly when you start asking yourself the questions you never wanted to admit were in your mind. Most of the times, your heart will answer that you need him for your very existence…that (no matter how cliché it may sound) you can’t live without him. In the rest of those confusing times, you realize its not about not being able to live without him, but that you may not really be able to live with him. And then the next question, you might just as well imagine life without him, but can you imagine life with somebody else??

Which brings me back to where I started. Life’s a bitch….it poses questions in front of you and demands of you to find answers when you don’t even want to know them. So what the heck, ask them before you are forced to. That’s the only way to be prepared.

A relationship status called “In Love”

Posted in Facebook on Wednesday, January 28, 2009 at 7:52pm

Even as you read this, millions of people in some corner of the world or other are signing up into any one of those just about miilion immensely popular social network sites…sixteen year old boys are signing up as thirty-something single girls…forty year old Uncles are signing up as “tall-dark-handsome” twenty-somethings… Its all a rigmarole of lies, loneliness, fun (a lot of that, actually)…and very rarely, the truth. But this is not about social network sites….its about the tiny footnote that comes in the form of that field called “Relationship Status” and the options given under that as “Single”, “Committed”, “Married”. I can almost imagine a certain sect of people choosing the first option without a second thought….cause a single status ensures the most number of visitors to your profile, specially if you are good looking and even if you are not! Then there’s another class of people who are so besotted that all they do is give a shy smile and choose the second option…..putting their lovers at ease each time they do so. Then of course, there are the happily married sorts (who somehow end up being boring versions of their earlier selves..at least that’s how I see it).

But what I want to talk about is a fourth sort…the sort who wait with their fingers poised….the sort who are in love, but are not in a relationship. Might be any reason why they are not….the saddest being unrequited love. Or maybe they were in a relationship which could not work out…whatever may have been the reason. But does it mean that they are single? In a world where being single naturally translates to being ready to mingle? Why can’t it be that a person is so much in love that he/she does not have any place in their hearts for any sort of an intimate relationship…and is not even looking for love anywhere? Why is a “single” person thought of almost as a public property…as something to be hit on? And most importantly, why does every relationship need a tag?

Been pondering for quite some time over this….just like each Valentine’s Day brings in a fresh bout of depression among all those who are not in a relationship (and are in a way desperate, for that day at least!)…I feel each time somebody has to go through this signing up process, it does bring in new questions and confusions…and regrets. Must not we do something about it?

Another high high!

Posted in Facebook on Sunday, November 30, 2008 at 12:57pm

Bliss is…going to an exam totally detached (because you are past the stage of being the bundle of nerves you were the day before) and then finding that the easiest problem has been assigned to you…and wonder of all sweet wonders, you manage to solve it at one go, and correctly too. Especially when you so knew you suck at it and would never be able to get the hang of it ever.

Bliss is….having a brother who stays right in the campus so that when you come back from that very exam of yours and realize you’ve locked yourself out of your hostel room, you need all of ten minutes to figure out you can always spend the time there till your room mate arrives with her key. Bliss is being able to tell out loud the moment you arrive there (without having to think twice about it) that you are very, very hungry and could do with like, lots and lots of food, please?

Bliss is a sunny room with windows open and curtains fluttering in a cool breeze which feels just right on your cheeks… a huge bed in that room with soft pillows and warm sunlight strewn all over it….and then having the maid bring over crisp buttered toast, egg poach with just the right amount of salt, and a huge mug of extra sweet coffee, without you having to lift a finger…..and after a while reaching that sweet state of semi-consciousness when the sun makes you feel sleepy (after all that food, too!) and a little stupid……and then surrendering to sleep (and no, you don’t worry about the viva for that exam to be held later that very afternoon).

Bliss is spending an entire afternoon in a small bamboo outhouse (or maybe just a room?) on stilts meant to be a substitute for a tree-house for the four year old nephew of yours, only that it has got everything you want….a soft rug and pillows (since off late sleep has been something like your top priority, exams may go to hell for all you care) and also a plug point for your laptop, so that you can pretend to study for as long as you want while secretly watching “F.R.I.E.N.D.S” without Bhabhi being any the wiser.

Bliss is having a classmate and a buddy who’s like the sole reason you stop from giving up on everything each time you feel like doing something that crazy….and being able to sit with him and study mathematics sitting under a streetlight, though, of course with a laptop (gotcha, didn’t I?) and realize that what you’ve been leaving aside as too difficult just needs a little more concentration that you feel it deserves, and that everything seems easy and possible whenever he’s the one who says it is so.

Bliss is realizing that you may not be very good in what you’re doing and may not at all be passionate about it, but at least you’re ready to fight this time….and then figuring out exactly where all the problems lie…that there are so many other things you would love to be doing that you feel you’re wasting your time trying to be good at something you don’t even like… Bliss is having a Mom who understands you so much that even though you give her a call just for the sake of sharing your dreams with her after ages, she puts your exact thoughts in words, in a better way than you could have put them yourself. And bliss is knowing that she thinks you are right….that you should go ahead with your dreams…and finally being able to do what you’ve been wanting to do for so long…prove it to yourself that you can work at being happy while doing something that would make everyone other than you happy.

And finally, bliss is listening to awesome music with your fingers tapping out all of your thoughts into the laptop, and knowing that even though tomorrow may not work out as fine as today did, and that you may even wake up the day after wishing you were dead, it’s all going to be okay, after all. And that there are going to be days again when you would feel so good about everything that you wouldn’t be able to keep it inside you for long and blurt it all out…just like I did just now.

The way to my heart…..

Posted in Facebook on Friday, September 26, 2008 at 8:37pm
Who says that the way to only a man’s heart is through his stomach? Right now, anybody coming in front of me with a platter of fried pork, or maybe steaming pork momos..or even hot crisp-fried Maggi, would be sure to make me fall on my knees in front of him and make me his slave for eternity. And yes, am not exaggerating. Crazy though it may sound, that’s exactly how I feel…as anybody who’s not had good food since the last blue moon would understand.

Have always been a foodie (does not necessarily translate to having great helpings of anything and everything)…a sucker for good smells and tastes AND good presentation. Blessed with an angel of a Mom who spoilt us rotten with varied tastes since childhood, so much that our tiffins used to be topics of discussion in school (and the reason for the many times I spent the torturous half an hour of class before tiffin break dreamily gazing at the teacher waiting for the bell to ring)… who was (and still is) always ready to come up to our expecatations,and more, and also had this uncanny ability of surprising us with rare treats from time to time, it’s really impossible to live in a place where the very solace for everybody is routine (“Thank God for Wednesdays and Sundays…we get to have chicken!!!”). There have been so many days when I say sorry to my Mom for each time I threw a tantrum in the dining table because my egg was not done in the right way. Give me a little-too-fried eggs or a little-less-done ones any time now.

Coming back to good food….I can understand everybody who turn to it for comfort when nothing else works..for me there’s nothing better than an extra-sweet (and extra-large) slice of a black-forest to lift up your spirits (which is maybe one of the reason I remain perpetually depressed out here…you don’t get anything remotely resembling a black-forest out here). Sometimes I wonder if the habit of mine of munching on something whenever I read a book has turned the way round…maybe nowadays I read a book because that’s the best time to have tit-bits that you wouldn’t normally have.

Will stop now…its getting late and I need to get back for dinner (which is much, much more depressing than hunger itslef). Maybe someday I’ll no longer need to wait for months before I can even smell a pork momo..or to have a hot chocolate brownie with chocolate sauce…or times when I can have Maggi at any goddamn hour of the day (and night)…till then, I wait…for that angel in human form to rescue me.

Aah….for a whiff….

Posted in Facebook on Wednesday, November 5, 2008 at 7:49pm

I think I mentioned this before….my being a sucker for good smells. And its such a bliss to be able to smell things after what seems like eternity (had been suffering from a cold that deadened my olfactory senses for good)… Or maybe it has to do with my watching the movie “Scent Of A Woman” today (will come back to that later)…whatever be it, somehow I find myself thinking about all the smells that I love, that make me nostalgic.

My earliest memory of a smell must have been my Mom’s (that’s what science says) but what I do remember is warm mustard oil being rubbed on my back and up my nostrils (man, that was something….made my eyes water like crazy) as we sat under a guava tree in our backyard…sometimes I feel I can actually smell the sun… And then I remember that typical way Mom’s hands would smell right after she comes out of the kitchen…of ginger and onions and green chillies.. But better still, the way she smelled as she cuddled me in her arms to put me to sleep every afternoon..I remember digging my nose inside her wardrobe and smelling deep whenever she would be away from home for a long time, just so I could feel her close to me.

I seldom forget smells…specially ones which make me feel good. That’s why it kind of surprised my parents when I told them I still remember the exact way the “paneer ke pakode” smelt in a brother’s wedding which we attended when I was all of six years old….just like I can never forget the sweet cocktail of smells wafting in the air in front of the florists’ where we gave orders for flowers for the same wedding. Speaking of which, I do have to mention that nothing beats a “breathful” of “shefali”s in an early autumn morning….not even the sight of the same white and orange flowers scattered on dew covered grass. And when it comes to fresh smells, I guess the one smell that always puts a smile on my face is that of freshly cut grass…reminds me of days when I would come back home from school to see a freshly mowed lawn and trimmed flower beds..

But that was about the long long time ago….over the years I’ve developed a nose for quite different things (the classic favorites intact, nonetheless). Have become addicted to coffee off late, but more to the smell of coffee that lingers in the mouth AFTER one has had coffee. And…well, have become partial to a few perfumes..feminine ones, all of them, with nice blends of roses and flowery scents and some with citrus notes (oh, by the way, its my dream to have at least half a dozen of those ridiculously expensive perfumes which come in nice crystal bottles on my dressing table…dream of having a different one for each mood..). But then again, I also opine that all expensive perfumes in this world cannot beat that one whiff of scent of a freshly bathed baby (one of the million things I love about them balls of flesh)…maybe that’s one reason I have not been able to give up the Johnson and Johnson’s range of baby products!!!

Strange how I always remember the people close to me by the way they smell. I can never forget that one evening when I had had a big fight with the dude, and all it took me was one sniff at his old jeans jacket….and I found myself forgiving him without even him asking me to!! I can still smell my sister around even though she’s thousands of miles away…and wish I could smell like her. But somehow, the one smell I can never ever forget is the way my Aita’s lap smelled, as we spent countless evenings talking about mythology (of all things) with smells from Mamma’s cooking drifting in from the kitchen….even though its been what,nineteen years since then. I wish I could still get just one whiff of that again.

Oh Guwahati!

Posted in Facebook on Monday, October 6, 2008 at 9:01pm

Its eight-thirty in the evening and my legs are cramped from sitting in the car for six hours straight (that’s the time it took us to reach Guwahati from Tezpur!) and the first thing I notice is the dust and smoke, and the noise….the traffic jam and the irritation of harassed drivers which is as much a part of the season as the blessed Pooja. And yet, I’m happy….cause I feel I’m home. Granted, this city may not have given me birth, and I may not have been brought up on its air and water, but this has given me the best three years of my life….and has squeezed, stretched and at times lovingly moulded me into who I am today…

Alright, before I get carried away, I am brought back to reality when I realise that we’re stuck up in the same place for twenty long minutes, with local expletives now added to the contiuous horns (fat help that is), and it takes much more than nostalgia to love THAT.

Cut to next morning, when a sunny sky gradually takes on various shades of grey, and before you know it, its raining like there’s no tomorrow. Observations, speculations and predictions are made (“This will continue till afternoon, I tell you”, “Zoo Tiniali must be totally under water by now”, “What the heck, this road is never flooded..but today even this is!!!!”) and the father is “tenser” by the minute trying to find a way to reach the airport on time. Rubber boats not being a very practical option (nobody has had the sense to invest in one till date) the taxi is called and the journey started. And in five minutes, I understand what exactly chaos means. Chaos is when roads resemble rivers, when cars look like giant animals heaving and grunting their way through that river, and when street urchins have the brightest smiles on their face as they inform you that the road (?) ahead is even worse and the car’s definitely going to get stuck and surely you would want them to help you push the car, right? And the grand finale, when you realise that your legs are ankle deep in water and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

And I would still say I’m happy to be home. Its good to catch up on how much has changed since last time (and let me tell you, at the rate Guwahati is growing…. a lot!) just like its good to know that certain things never will change. Its good to see that people have learnt to love this new trendy Guwahati, which also means patiently tolerating the inconviniences that preceded these changes (road-repairs, new flyovers and the impossible traffic jams that came along during their construction) Its amazing that inspite of this makeover, the people are still the same. They still have time to catch up on what’s happening in the other’s life (not to mention that slight inclination towards snooping)….and are still concerned. Money may have become much more important that what it used to be, but its still not everything out here. Life, is still how its meant to be.

And I mean to enjoy it to the fullest while I’m here. Which reminds me there’s more to life than sitting in front of the PC and typing out long notes. So off I go……

A bug’s paradise…!

Posted on Facebook on Wednesday, October 1, 2008 at 7:26pm

Hrmph!

Gerald Durell (who, incidentally happens to be the author of my all time favourite book “My Family and Other Animals”) may have called them his “little brown jobs” and “small uglies”, but its one thing to read about them in a sort of disconnected way, and quite another to have to share bed space with hundreds of them!

Come evening and this place comes alive (no, am not talking about the students who come out in throngs after a nice afternoon siesta) with what seems to me a million varieties of bugs all around any place there’s a light; starting from the teeny-weeny 60-watt bulbs in our hostel rooms to the huge floodlights in the football field…and each time I see them I wish I were a lizard so I could at least have a hundred square meals inside me in a matter of minutes (all I would have had to do was to find a nice spot and stick my tongue out…nothing else) Unfortunately though, am not, and that places me in the disadvantageous position of having to fight them off me wherever I go..

Its almost like that Beatles song Eleanor Rigby…”All the lonely people, where do they all come from..” except that here I find myself asking “All the ugly green bugs, where do they all come from…” Every evening is a silent war between me and the darling room-mate (you will never ever hear us acknowledging this out in the open, but am letting you into the secret) as to who gets to switch off her light…and switch on the other so that all the bugs are concentrated on one bed, one table and basically on just one person ( and its only last night that we finally find the solution – turn off both and switch on the one yellow light which is right in the center of the room. Compromise, you see.)

Imagine coming back from dinner with a song basically swelling up inside you so much that you can’t wait to exercise your vocal chords and belt it out, and a bug (of all things) chooses that appropriate moment to explore the insides of your mouth…. On second thoughts, don’t imagine. Its too gross.

I wonder if ever there would be a solution for this…maybe the Environmental Science people would someday come up with a way to make this place a bug-free zone. Maybe someday I’ll get to sleep without having to fish out a bug from under me every other minute. Or maybe someday I’ll actually take up a microscope and start studying their social life (which must be hectic, look at their strength in numbers!) and find interesting stuff there. Fat chance, but I am optimistic.

P.S.: Even as I write this, there’s a bug fixed to the screen with a transfixed look (that’s what it seemed to me anyway) and I’m sure its reading every bit of this…..hope my message carries through to the million others as well.

Contradictions….and how!

Posted on Monday, September 22, 2008 at 8:10pm

Picture this..

A drizzly morning..not rainy enough to qualify as rainy, but not quite dry (which means you need to drag that wretched umbrella out of the recess of your bag)…a seven-minute walk to a class which started ten minutes ago..an irritated friend who does not think it worth enough to walk fast (and also to wake up early for class)..grains of sand sticking to your toes through the gaps of your sandal and your freshly washed jeans wet and clinging on to your ankles.. you stop long enough to try and fold them but realise that the effort of making sure your bag doesn’t slip off your shoulder while you bend takes much more time than the actual folding of the jeans and so you move on. You reach class late (that was obvious) and it takes an entire day for the dirt stuck to your jeans, and that scowl stuck to your face, to wipe off. You end up cursing the rain, cursing your a little-too-long jeans and cursing basically every little thing that has placed you in this situation…

And picture this…

Its almost midnight and you’re trying hard not to drop asleep right on top of your notes while your room-mate literally snores her way to glory…its stuffy hot since evening and you nursing a bad headche (which, amazingly always starts when you sit with your notes in front of you) and you searching hard for some reason not to just switch off the light and end all misery. And then, all of a sudden you see a flash of light and the familiar rumblings of an angry sky (somehow sounding like a loving Dad trying to be angrier than he really is, just so you sit up and take notice) and then…sweet music…its raining. You close your book (finally having found a reason to do so) and you go outside to the verandah…and what awaits you is a scence which for a while takes your breath away…and then makes you take deep gulps at one go… You see a mere street-light being transformed into something mysteriously beautiful..the fileds you see everyday seem to be alive and breathing for a change..its like everything’s alive now..and they’re exchanging salutations. And you’re a part of it so they welcome you too…you hear them speak to you..You close your eyes and you feel droplets clinging on to your face and somehow, of its own, there’s a smile on playing on your lips..

We do judge things a little too soon, don’t we??