If I were to write a story, I'd probably include the frequent scooter rides to Durtlang. It has been years now since I've been commuting back and forth DDK, dissecting the city with such long rides. Be it sunny, rainy or cloudy, each second I took driving usually had me thinking about a whole lot of everything. Coming back is a whole different story too. I don't know if it's just me but I find such satisfaction staring into the twinkling city lights below.
This specific evening, as I drove myself home from the rather cold Leitan breeze, like a moth drawn towards the warm city lights, I thought it would be fun to monitor how much time it took me to reach home. Suppose point A is DDK, point B home, then the amount of time taken (t) by variable x (me) is directly proportional to weather condition, traffic jam and my mood. You see, usually in the old normal, it took me atleast 30-40mins for x to reach from point A to point B and vice versa. But this fateful evening amidst partial lockdown, it took me just 20mins. Boy, the city was empty, kinda scary driving through the pitch black foggy Durtlang slopes, just 1 vehicle in sight, just 1 scooter down Chaltlang, much to my relief, Chanmari greeted me with the warmth of some neighbourhood fried chicken aroma, the warmth of Dawrpui streetlights atop the railings offered quite a comfort too. I remembered the area around Gandhi's statue lacked proper lighting, just after I ran past the flickering Baskin Robbin's outlight. Creepy.
Well, I considered myself home at the sight of Aijal Club, that familiar pinkish Bloom Beauty Pro. banner at its side always gives me the necessary assurance that I have reached my locality safe. And yes, this is just an account of one evening, I have a whole lot more tale to deliver, but atlas it's 2:00am, the rain is brewing and I need to tend to my farm, which farm you might ask? Well, the android game called Hay Day, with which I have formed an addictive bond with since summer of 2016.
The ordinariness of boring in
The new normal is weirdly exhausting.
Of tried anticipation and overburdened wait,
The sloppiness of time,
The unraveled web of calm and chaos
All brewed together in one shabby little vessel,
Carelessly monitored through sleepless nights
And unsteady mornings.
Ugghh!!! Hello boredom
My old friend!
Continuation . . .
Lockdown, curfew, pandemic - too familiar a word within a year's span, when it was only yesteryear I complained about being too engaged with stuffs. The irony of unprecedented events which on the bright side has ushered me yet again how beautiful the church, mizo formals and sunsets are.
A cup of Tea ☕ can calm you down, comfort you and help you sleep at night. "There is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea" said Emerson. Tea is hot, smells good and cheers you up. "Where there's tea, there's hope" they say. Tea can even break your loneliness and boost your endurance. You can have tea any time and never get fed up. Yes! A cup of tea makes everything better. Will you be my cup of tea?
I saw you today. You were looking fine, well primped from head to toe. I observed how much you have grown and matured. I stared at you almost like a mother watching her little boy at his first day of school, I was proud of you. I wanted to steal just a few seconds to tell you how much you meant to me, perhaps tell you how much I love you. But then I realised that I no longer have the authority over any of your time. So, I just slipped away from your presence. Sometimes I wished your young heart would understand the passions of an adult felt for another.
Last night, I had a dream. I dreamt of you. I wanted to tell you about my dream. I saw you in a hospital bed. You were severely wounded. You could barely talk. I cried seeing you like that. I knew you had your own family to tend to your needs, and therefore I hesitated, but not for long. Years of taking care of you had triggered in me the need to walk up to you. I held your right hand, the winter air had done it much cold. Your tired eyes woke up. You look at me, I held my tears back. I asked you how you felt and your eyes replied that you were happy to see me. I was, too. From then, the visit to the hospital became a regular. I was addicted to your daily progress. I loved every moment spent with you. You had this thing about you that I loved so much and wanted to tell you, but I guessed you already figured it out too. The day came when the doctors said you were ready to leave the hospital, I was proud and happy for you. That last visit, I gave you a hug. It was the last hug. That day, you left the hospital and returned to your wife and son. I cried watching how beautiful a family you all made.
“Knock! Knock!” I woke up to the sound of the door. I heard dad’s voice calling me for breakfast. I got up remembering the dream. I wish I could freeze that moment when I last hugged you. I knew it was just a dream, but it felt real, it felt warm. And when I saw you today, I thought to myself, “there goes my dream!”
It was a cold and busy December evening of one fine day. The second hand had already taken a few tick tocks round the watch when we could finally manage to steal a room to safely park the scooter. Everybody and everything else were so ordinarily busy in their own ordinary way. We had ourselves stand at the red-checkered pavement watching the lights flicker away as the traffic slowly swayed across us. And right at that moment when my emotions were least vulnerable, my heart felt his humble warmth as he stooped down to his knees just to fix my undone shoelace.
Why songs are powerful?
They help you re-create the perfect moments in your life, remind you the love and the pain you've gone through and how you've overcome all. It soothes your melancholy all in the while embracing it. It gives you freedom so you can close your eyes and run to any person you ever wanted in this world.
