♫ That One SONG In Your Playlist ♫

There is this thing about some songs. The first time you listen to it, you get it. You get why the song was written, what it meant to say, why the lyrics were just appropriate for it. You are startled why others do not get it but you do. You connect with it in every possible sense. It always stay in your playlist because it is a piece of a truth when everything in this world looks a lie and fake, when you cannot tell right from wrong because everything has got two sides including humans or because that song talks of a fleeting dream that you had framed in your mind for ages and finally there was someone who tore it out from your mind and gave words to it. Deep inside, you know that that song is a small door to your heart for anyone to peek inside. It can be a love song, a heartbreak song, an inspirational song or any other kind of song but it speaks for you when you were at loss for words, it sings a melody that should have been played in the background all that time. And that you keep that song with you forever as a memento of memory, dream or a lesson. Some will never get why that song is your favorite one. But you never feel a need to give an explanation because that would be more like mocking at your own individuality. 

♯ Haircuts - Shopping - Joblessness ☼

So finally, I can just feel the days dragging by with me not much left to do. I sleep nine hours a day now, if I count in the afternoon naps, then a sleep of total eleven hours. A month passed by and I have caught myself only lazying around like a snail most of these days. Now I feel like going back to the university but there is one more month to kill. I do not have a full proof plan of how I am going to survive this month. But let us see how much productive I will be this time.

Getting a haircut is the first thing on my list and going for shopping is the last one. Summers did lure me to get my hair cut short because the heat is unbearable and my head gets oily and sweaty every time I exercise and I cannot shampoo my hair everyday so getting a haircut would lift the burden of hair-care which I'm pretty bad at. And yeah, going to break hearts again for I know that people love to see me in long hair. But it is worth it since all the sports activities will commence again in the next semester  and I will be the first one to jump up giving my name for each sport on the spur of the moment. Take it from me, being a player as well as a pretty lass is not an easy task. It is definitely not my cup of tea. Though I could keep long nails while coming back home, I instinctively cut them short probably because I did not want to literally scratch my cousins accidentally while tickling or even bashing them sometimes :P Also to keep my touch-phone from scratches. I remember how once an older girl was caressing my face and ended up scratching my forehead accidentally, painful it was. I hated her at that moment- old and silly but one of the unforgettable memories. It is funny how some memories are forever embedded in our mind. Now since I am not keeping nails, I would get back to my favorite color nail-polish(for small nails) - Black. *Breaking the spell*, I think I got carried away. 

During the last month, I learnt a couple of things. Firstly, how we tend to treat our younger ones the same way we were treated when we were that young. I am like a big sister to my cousins but they always wonder why I do not act like one. I never wake up early, I never cooked food, I rarely help them with their homework, let alone projects. Some days, I am the one hopping around in the house the whole day singing the most random songs in Hindi and English and some days, I do not come out of my room at all. I am aware how much they hate me when I refuse to do their project drawings but that is how it was when I was their age. Daddie or my elder brother would never help me with my homework or drawings. So when it was about any of my school work, I would never rely on my elder brother or anyone for that matter. I still do not know whether they really wanted me to strive to do my homework or were just lazy to help me out with it. But yes, I turned out to be okay and topped most of the exams. So now if I do not help my cousins with their work, it is justified, I guess.*startled* 

     Secondly, if we love someone very close to us, it does not hurt to show them every once in a while or that person will be tired guessing and might feel unloved after a stage. And feeling unloved is one of the worst feeling on this planet. Let me give you an example, Parents. Their restrictions and regulations can get into the kid's head and mess with it. Sometimes, parents are stubborn and other times, we are. In the end, the child might take all of this in a wrong sense and feel ignored and unloved which ain't the truth but seem like it is. So, yes, if you love your loved ones, show them every now and then. Talk to them about their life and experiences, hug them once in a while, bring them gifts, leave them a small but sweet note, ask them for remarks and suggestions :) Show them love and they will love you even more. 

Enough with my wise words. Now I am signing out. Hope to see you soon. :) Buh Bye. Take Care.

Chatty and Charming,

♦ The Letter ♦ - An Ode to Our FRIENDSHIP

Dear Friend,

        How have you been? I hope this letter reaches you in the pink of health. You should know that I am hale and hearty here. I have been finding new ways to race the life I'm stuck in. Do not be disappointed if there is a delay in delivery of this letter because no matter how many days, months or years pass by, I still miss every memory I have knitted with you.

         Life is too hectic that I forget to pen down the updates in my diary, the one you had gifted me. When I first stepped in this place, I felt lost, struck with panic and anxiety. Everything looked new and fresh. Not a single person I was already even acquainted with. The change was tremendous. I had no friends at first. But later, I befriended myriad people thinking I might bump into another you but it didn't take me much time to realize that there's no one like you. You are irreplaceable. I did end up with a couple of good friends who are like a mirror to me, showing me what I am capable of in life. They make my life less complicated, more joyful and easier. With them, I lose track of time and also most of my worries. We three are close. We definitely are.

       But there are times when I miss you, more than I ever thought I will. I miss our petty, listless but long conversations. I miss how we would wreck songs by singing them in our  "not so pretty" wretched voice. I miss having meals at your place. I miss how you would never console me because we were never fond of those sentimental moments. I miss how you would brag about your medals and momentos before me. I miss how you were always shy to talk about the love of your life but rambled on about your crushes in school. I miss how we would lock ourselves in your room and dance like crazy. I miss going to puja celebrations with you. I miss those morning walks. I miss those camp days. I miss buying stuff together.  I miss calling you names. I miss "you and me". I miss "Us".

       There are many unforgettable memories that I carry along in my mind but you are my favorite memory. Don't assume that I'm shedding a tear while writing this because I'm rather smiling. Although my heart is lamenting a little but I am happy that I had such a wonderful friend to spend my childhood and teenage years with. Now that I am too far from you, I hope that you are taking good care of yourself and missing me the appropriate amount *giggles*. I would love to see you soon. Keep smiling.

p.s. If you are planning to surprise me by paying  a visit, do not forget to bring me a gift. :)

Love, 

Your Friend.

    

▒ The Voice ▒ - To Bring An AWAKENING ۞

I'm not a writer but I got a voice, a voice waiting to be heard. A voice that talks of experiences and feelings, feelings that cannot be touched or seen, can only be felt by the pure hearts. A voice that wants to ruffle up the conscience in every man, a voice that waits to bring the awakening. A voice that wants to sing, sing away the melody which is so enticing that no heart can wait to warm up and unveil the tiniest agony hidden within. The voice that will lure your soul to surrender to the benefit of mankind. A voice that strikes all the concordant notes to calm the devil inside each one of us. A voice that can be heard only by those with good intent all through the devastating circumstances. A voice that is waiting to be yours, waiting to pour out from your mouth.

When I sit down to write my DIARY ☺

There are days when you sit down to write in your diary but every thought that flies in dissolves in the blink of an eye. There is so much to tell but the words would not stop playing hide and seek. You break into every corner of your mind to recollect the oldest of your memories but it seems futile. Then you sit and wait for some inspiration, something to ignite the creativity that is waiting to be embraced. You look at the sky faded blue and the clouds concealing the illuminated sun. Your eyes wander more until it caught a glimpse of a silver lining. You sigh out all the worries that hold you captured. Then, you set your gaze upon the busy street that absorbs in the lilting voice of cuckoos. You are reminded of the clock that is ticking by. But you are no more sane when a breeze strikes your face and breaks through the blockages in the branches on your mind. Your mind unfolding every single memory that lit you up during all these years. A smile retreats, spreads all over your face, your eyes glazing brown. You lift up your pen and trace every endearing memory in your diary.

Sound and Sulky,
 

MOVING ON (Poem)

I shut my eyes, with it
the glimpses of this city in my mind,
climbed onto the bus with a heavy heart,

my gaze steering through
welcomed by unfamiliar stares,
i took a seat by a window,
intromitted the sunlight  soaked in blue,
I breathed in the smoky smell
of the bus, let out a sigh,
My mind, still clouded, misted
with the pictures of the streets
I drove in the twilight,
the giant moon that crept
over our balcony,
a mystical yet breathtaking view,
Did I inhale the reality of the moment,
that smell of incense stick, would
linger in through the neighbor's window,
the tree in the backyard,
that I had witnessed growing fuller,
greener every spring
and naked every autumn.
that cute snuggly black kitten,
sneaked into my room, paying humble visits,
grew to be a scary yet adorable creature
infront of my brown eyes.
The glisten of the streets after rain,
like tiny diamonds embedded in them,
the wetness of the branches of the same tree.
A sudden attack of nostalgia was it?
my eyes, misted with teardrops
smudging my mascara, blurring my vision.
As I opened the window,
felt the drizzle on my cheeks,
tiny droplets of rain smothered
my pale weary face.
The rain poured all over
with it, the memories old and new,
I extended my arm out,
to catch the drops of memories
a futile endeavor,
my sobs went unheard under
the sound of rain, washed away my tears,
As I sat back in my seat,
induced to a slumber that promised
nothing but a momentary relief.

CHOICES That We Make (Return of NOSTALGIA) Ѫ

So, here I am . The last few days have been more like a whirlwind pushing me into a river of thoughts and memories. I still wonder what my life would have been like if I were studying in Andhra Pradesh and not in Assam. One thing I was certain of was that If I had chosen to continue my studies there, I would have never learnt about my own culture i.e Assamese culture. It would have been a shame. In fact, I'm not even fluent yet in speaking Assamese. They say language can sometimes become a barrier in friendship - Not always true. There will always be people who would be ready to accept you the way you are, despite your flaws and all. All you have to do is hold on to them. I consider myself lucky to have such people in my life. Then there are going to be some people who would never miss a chance to ridicule you by pointing out even you pettiest faults. Well, I'm led astray by my other philosophies and findings. I was saying that sometimes you have to make certain choices, choices that can be really difficult to make. Choosing between Sec-bad and my own place, Assam was sure a tough one. It was like choosing between an ice-cream and a chocolate. You love them both but you dad will buy you only one of them. Sec-bad has been like a home to me for a decade. When you live at a place for so long, it grows on you. You know the streets and some of the important routes you embed in your mind to school, hospital, malls and restaurants. Then you got friends somewhere near your place and you can drive to them every time you get lonely during weekends and especially during long vacations.  What really intrigued me that I had only a couple of Assamese friends, I never really knew what it was like to grow up in your own native place, speaking a language that sets you apart from the people of other states, our own rituals and rites. I am not a religious or a spiritual person but I respect tradition and certain mystical beliefs people have about everything. It is not logical to support them but if it is doing them good and making them a better person, why bother? And I wished to get familiar to some of them. Another reason that can be accounted was that everyday I would hear people rambling on in their language , Telegu. Although I prefer myself and others to speak or learn to speak in Hindi, I learnt that how much in love they were with their own language and were proud of it. So, I felt it is time that I learn Assamese too. They say that the best way to learn a language is to stay amongst the native speakers and learn it. So here I am. Moreover, I am a sort of person who is not fond of a routinized life. Same places, same faces, they bore me. I love variety. I love change. Living in a place for more than ten years did not seem a brilliant idea to me. So I was compelled to be here, the place where my parents grew up. Everything about here is wonderful. Except, I miss the big malls and restaurants that would lined up along streets in sec-bad. But our university is like a little paradise to us. Riding off our bicycles by the playground at night does send a chill down my spine for the field would be teeming with lights with guys and girls playing football, cricket and basketball, it sure is a thrilling sight. You don't have to drive out of the campus for street food. We got stalls within the campus, golgappe, momos, chaat - street food. When I had first stepped into the campus for counselling, I could not help but gape at the magnificent, at the same time, spectacular panorama. Right then, I knew that I am going to have the time of my life here. Our university is engulfed in the beauty of nature. But now is the time to rest our asses off at home.

It is amusing that when people ask me where I'm from, I'm bound to say Jorhat instead of Sec-bad. Taking birth at a particular place and growing up in a different place leaves me with a question mark, what would be the appropriate answer to - Where am I from? If only they would ask me where I hail from? Jorhat it is. But if they ask where I grew up, I'd say Sec-bad. But now I'm fed up of explaining it to people, so I rather tell them that I'm from Jorhat but then they question more as to why my accent does not seem to prove the fact that I'm from Jorhat, then I explain them the whole thing again in a monotonous tone. And every time I'm caught in this situation, I am annoyed. I remember how in schools, folks were always excited to ask me where I come from 'cause I looked different, not really, I look like how northeast people do, and I would feel special. Alas, does not happen anymore. But everyone is so nice and warm here that I never feel left out here. And the weather is so soothing and refreshing. In sec-bad, you could never tell a difference between winter and autumn and summer was too hot and dry. But here, summer is hot, winter is cold, that's how it should be, right?  But at times, I do get nostalgic reminiscing the years I have spent in Andhra Pradesh. Sometimes, I just cannot recall the smell of those streets or the faces of the folks in our colony or the taste of those golgappas from the stall stood nearby our school. And I miss it. Good or Bad, I miss it all. :')

Pretty and Peppy,