The Sunshine Blog Award

image

Life brings so many meanders and spurs for you to cross and move beyond and that is life. It has been a week  since I got down from the vehicle of wordpress and drowned myself in a huge tsunami trying to escape. It passed and then left me along with my family in a calm quite atmosphere but with a crater ,void and empty.
My father’s uncle,our grandpa, befriended death. See, death makes eternal friends or even marries beautiful women,never to get divorced and yes! Death takes no dowry either. He is so mighty,all powerful and what not? He has a huge heart,rooms for many passed and rooms still being built for us.
I wonder how my room looks like.
I took so long a holiday from my blog because I was crossing one of the hilly spurs of my life and I didn’t have time exclusively for myself to type and arrange my thoughts.
In such a claustrophobic situation the nomination for Sunshine Blog Award did put a smile on my face and I hugely thank my friend The Cliffanger Chronicle ( http://cliffangerchronicle.wordpress.com) for nominating me. You have no Idea how only the nomination made me happy and I am honoured to the fullest.
I do not know if its appropriate for me to publish this post after such a long gap. But now when I have time for myself, I want to reply to the questions put forward by my friend and below are my answers to the respective questions.

1. Your favourite colour.
Life is a flux ,mortality and mutability being its only constant and permanent part. Likewise my love for colours changed considerably with Time.
When we were kids our favourite colour changed within days or weeks. You see a new unique colour and that would become your favorite.
But we are brought up watching cartoons and the mixture of such splendid colours gravitated us towards it. Still do we see children and even adults being so engrossed while watching cartoons or animations. It is colours that are so rich and vibrant and this is not only in the virtual world but in the Nature itself with her mesmerising colours and her incomparable beauty from where the virtual world takes its cue and edits a bit, like wrapping a gift.

I already mentioned my love for colour changed. Of course it did. Let us go back to our school days, when this question is encountered frequently. Choices are many and you have to pick one, being careful that your friend do not have the same  as yours and you also need to have a perfect explanation as to why it is your favourite.
But we never did stick ourselves to one particular colour and after a month we would forget our last favourite colour.
I remember how my friends picked Blue as their favourite because the sky was blue and so on. My choice then was Green because I loved nature and the trees. But then one particular day in Kolkata there was a man who asked me this very question and I smartly replied my favorite color to be green. And then he said, “well I am not offending you but for Shakespeare  green means jealous. ”
This really made me sad and I thought twice before enlisting green as one of my favorite colours.But I could never dislike green when my house is surrounded with green trees and hills. The green forest beside, the fresh grass of our garden. Ah! I never can forget their fresh rain soaked smell. And the dew drops or even the raindrops collected in the leaves like silver pearl beads making them look even more beautiful.

Related to colour I can never forget my childhood days when jaundice visited me and the Doctor’s advice to avoid yellow was followed earnestly . For many years I avoided the colour thinking myself to be jaundiced.
But the yellow marigolds that blooms and brings in the air of festivity during the month of October never ceased to attract my eyes.

I have a close association with Orange because I have grown up with the orange trees in our orchard.Some are of my father’s age, some even older than him, some are of my age and others are still younger and growing, all so very taller than me. Each winter, they bless us with big rich round pulpy oranges and when we were kids we would spend the whole day in the orchard and very often we skipped our lunch.

Blue how can I forget you – the vast blue sky is itself a magic. God has really been careful when choosing the colour. The blue sky is such a relief and soothing to our eyes and the white fluffy clouds in motion are the special effects. It is like the invisible painter constantly painting in the blue canvas.
I just love the amalgamation of colours in the morning when the sun rises and in the evening just after the sun sets and in our hills people usually come outside their verandas or balconies with hot refreshing tea just to watch the first show when the curtain slowly opens and the bright fascinating mixture of golden yellow,orange and red slowly kisses and illuminates the grey sky and then crowns the snow clad Kanchenjunga.This is  like heaven on earth experience. Likewise we hardly miss the end show of the day before the curtain closes and the sun sets. Again in the horizon we see the explosion of colours – bright, orange and yellow and golden and sometimes the horizon looks pink.
Nature being the mother of all the colours, I cannot really pick one and discard others. The  butterfly tree with its purple flowers,orchids and plants, the busy butterflies and dragonflies; the dark sky with the stars as its jewels -all are very enchating.But now I realise that there is no such colour as your favourite. At least for me, if not for others. I have always felt biased when I had to pick only one. But now I feel that I cannot be a lawyer for one particular color. And so If I am to answer the question regarding the favourite colour, my reply would be ‘The Rainbow’ with its marvellous colours making the VIBGYOR. Also in a rainbow the seven colours are not present with stark separation but there is always a blurred space in between them, helping them merge together creating yet another beautiful band of colours. We do use colours like peach,beige, turquoise and many more.
It is absolutely true that God’s masterpieces are right in front of our eyes and the artists recreates that hidden magic in their art.

2. Why Blogging
I have always enjoyed dating my diaries, sharing them secrets; they knew me well.
Writing will always remain my everlasting crush.I have recorded so many incidents of my life which would have been erased if there were no ink or a paper. There were times when I would just stare at the blank pages thinking my past experiences to be so vast,not being able to dress the paper with blue ink. But with time my habit of writing rusted. It was only when lying in bed that I would hear my voice writing invisibly.
Fortunately, the last year in college really helped me find my lost rusted self. All I had to do was to put in the required fuel in it. It was then I wrote my first article in the Annual college magazine and then I realised how I could make myself happy without being dependent upon others.
Thereafter I never want to run short of this fuel that helps me recreate my life again.
I had no idea about blogging or wordpress till I opened one site with tutorials about blogging and sharing your writings. And then I created my blog and here I am writing, publishing and most importantly getting connected with writers around the globe. This was exactly what I had always wanted.

3. Any song that you know by heart.
“The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more. ”
Songs lifts up my soul. There is a huge range of artists whose songs I love to listen.
Ed Sheeran, Taylor Swift, Adele, Ellie Goulding,Sia and so on .But this Nepali song by Ani Choying Dolma, never leaves my heart and mind. It goes like this-
“Phool ko akha ma phoolai sansaara,
Kaada ko aakha ma kaadai sansaara,
Jhulkincha hai Chaaya,bastu sansaara
Kaada ko akha ma kaadai sansaara,
Chitta sudha hosh mero boli Buddha hosh,
Mero Paitala le kirrai namaros
Ramro aakha ma phulcha ramrai sansaara
Kadda ko akha ma kaadai saamsara.”
(In the eyes of a flower,the world around is all flowers
In the eyes of a thorn,the world is all thorns;
you see the world the way you perceive it,
Every object has its own shadow,
In the eyes of a thorn,the world is all thorns
Let my mind be free of ill thoughts,
Let my speech match Buddha’s and
May my feet never harm a single insect
If one views the world with good eyes,the world around will always be good,
But in the eyes of a thorn,the world around it is all thorny.
….)

4. Worst fear.
I do not know exactly what my worst fear is. But I somehow feel its Time that flows like a river which makes you age beautifully and brings you very close to death. I don’t fear death but it is perhaps the time which gives you so much yet so little at the same time.

5. Do you have a pet? If yes whats the name and breed.
I have had pets in the past – cats and dogs. I just  love dogs them but presently I have none. I will surely pet one after I get a job because after our last dog died my grandpa doesn’t allow us to pet a dog. But we do have a cow in our house and a few months old calf whose name is Summer.

6. Greatest Asset.
To be able to live and taste the richness of life and to be born as as a human especially as a girl in the wonderful hills of India are some of the greatest assets in my life.
It was before last year during my Summer vacation after the exams, on a very windy wet day as usual, I found a wounded bird in our balcony which had fallen from its nest made in one of the trees of our garden. We knew something like this would happen because the tree was slender and not strong.
It was a Raven badly hurt, few steps and it would fall. With the help of my sister I made a cosy place for the bird to stay. I applied some powder, turmeric and oil in its wound and later made it have tiny flour-balls dipped in wild honey. In the evening, near the cow’s shed I had to collect earthworms and the dinner was a success. It was unbelievable that The little bird recovered so fast and we could hear it chirping in full volume. Everyone told me that the parents would no longer care because I had touched it,still I left  the box with the bird in it for its parents to see and it was like a miracle to see the parents bring bits of food(earthworms, grasshoppers, crickets,and so on) and put it in its beak for it to swallow. Oh! till then I didn’t know the red bits were actually red hot chillies. We all watched this lovely connection in silence. Later another baby bird too fell from its nest but it wasn’t hurt so I put it inside the same box where its sibling was. Oh the tiny bird fleas were horrible but the birds did well.

7. If you were to change anything about yourself, what would that be?
If I were to change anything about myself,that would be nothing because time changes us physically and mentally that we do not even realise that we have changed. Our life is a flux and memories and past experiences remains unchanged. And if I were to change my past, I would not be here blogging and sharing my experiences.
I am where I am today because of my past.
Friends, family, sisters, parents and grandparents; someone who loves you for who you are – I always feel the blessed hands of Almighty God above my head.

8. Your favourite Author.
When my favourite authors are innumerable like the stars in the sky,its hard to pick one, from Shakespeare,Bronte Sisters, Jane Austen, Mary Shelly, Virginia Woolf, Joyce and so on. But Anne Frank, the author with whose book (The Diary of a Young Girl) I developed my interest in reading and writing, is one of the brightest shining star. Another author whom I cannot forget is a Nepali author, mahakavi Laxshmi Prasad  Devkota whose ‘Muna-Madan’, can hardly be forgotten.
“Hath ko maila sunna ko thaila k garnu dhan le
Saag ra shishnu khayeko besha anandi maan le.”
(
“A bag of gold is like a dirt in our hands,
What is its worth when wealth is waste?
But a simple food,a simple life, heart tranquil and satiated is the best”)
Bishnukumari Waiba,famously known as Parijat is another woman Nepali writer born in the hills of Darjeeling whose poems and short stories we read in our vernacular class. But her best work “Sirishko phool”,translated in english as “The Blue Mimosa” is in my wish list.
In a range of infinite number of authors there are still others from whose work we explore and taste the world.I still have so less a life to discover the author’s secret in his book.

9. Have you ever experienced supernatural activity. If yes what was it?
As children we grew up listening stories, told by our grandparents and our parents, uncles and aunts. Still do I remember very vividly the times when we had to stay in kerosene lamps or lanterns with no electricity in our village.It was much later, we were served with Edison’s invention. But those times were blissful- children and adults gathering around the fire and every winter evening would always be a story time where one would share his story and usually the ghost stories were interesting. During those times of lanterns we enjoyed watching willo-the-wisp in the distant hills and how can I forget the shiny fire flies, they looked like stars on earth and we used to chase them sometimes being cruel, one would just stamp on it to see the shiny trail of sparks and a big scolding would follow us for killing the poor thing.
The elder members of our family always shares their supernatural experiences which definitely gives you a goosebumps and they are not myths because they have even  experienced together.
It was two years before, me and my cousin sister were watching a movie. We were only four people in the house including my grandparents whose bed time is usually 8. They had slept,lights off, volume low and we were watching the movie very interestingly. But my partner who is so very greedy about movies starting dozing very early that day and she could not help herself so she slept in the bedroom beside the living room. I still remember it was sharp 12′ midnight,the movie was about to end and a 2 minute break for ads started. It was then, I heard a creaking sound made from a nearby room and I supposed that my grandpa was awake. I knew,he would scold me for staying late so late at night ,so I hurriedly lowered the volume. But no grandpa didn’t open his door,he wasn’t awake. Again I heard the same sound a bit louder this time as if some heavy thing landed on the wooden floor. Still I didn’t think of any paranomal activities since my eyes were in the movie . But the third time, I felt my back swelling, I heard the loud sound, someone with a heavy weight, walking on the floor of the passage and marching forward. This was clear and I could hear the steps coming closer making a creaking agitated wooden noise. I knew if I stayed a little longer this thing whatever it may be would caught me.I could feel my sweat,I gathered all my strength and ran away inside my cousin’s room, pinched her too hard that she woke in a second. The sound too vanished. As a child, I have seldom heard footsteps coming from the ground floor slowly towards the first floor, the old wooden floor creaking sometimes as the steps took the stairs, the slow opening of the small wooden gate, and then it would pick up the lantern,only the sound would be heard because no light would reflect in the adjacent rooms and after picking up the lantern it would continue to walk upto the main door. I remember I used to cover myself with the quilt ,tightly hugging my mamma.
But this was something we became used to as we grew up and we weren’t scared. Grandma told us not be so as they were our ancestors.
Very rarely do we hear the footsteps now, but what I heard two years earlier was something very different and scary to the core.

10. What was your favourite hideout spot when you were a child.
It was below the stairs, an empty space which I shared with our dog Jonny who was much elder to us. It was my favorite hiding place while playing hide and seek and also the best place to scare someone passing by with a loud noise. Memories never get old.

I thank The Cliffhanger Chronicle  for these wonderful questions that made me travel back in times. And I never get tired to travel back. I enjoyed the invisible ride and the flashbacks, I got as I was printing them on the pages one after the other that I even forgot for a moment that time has brought me so far. But once again I got to excavate the long buried memories and was able to polish the characters in it,bringing them back to life even for a very short period of time.
Now I would like to nominate the following blogs for The Sunshine Blog Award-
1. http://toweararainbow.wordpress.com
2. http://lazyhazeblog.wordpress.com
3. http://musingandmytwocents.wordpress.com
4. http://mariamhyder.wordpress.com
5. http://lovelylyricism.wordpress.com
6. http://writingagirl.wordpress.com
7. http://theautotoriam.wordpress.com
8. http://lendraknott.wordpress.com
9. http://thoughtsnlifeblog.com

And here are my questions-
1.favourite destination?
2.your definition of love.
3. One incident that changed your life?
4. Your hobby?
5. Favourite book and why?
6. Your best childhood memories.
7. Favourite food
8. How do you welcome your day?
9. Do you believe in God?
10. Your definition of Death.

<a href="http://Breakthrough“>http://Breakthrough

Advertisements

A New Her

He wrapped her, gave her warmth,
She melted.
More closer steps,visions more blurred,
Until she was enclosed and locked.
Silently he became a heartless refrigerator
And turned her into pieces of frozen water.
“Did he destroy you?” I asked.
“No”, said she,“ my pieces gathered together
More solid more stronger than ever,
An Arctic ice was what he now feared.

<a href="http://Cake“>http://Cake

Dear Teacher

You are a Magic,
A Magic within you.
‘Pixie dust’ is what you provide,
An elixir of life.
You the Sun,We the consumers,
Your energy will stay with us forever
If not full, half or even a quarter,
Of it would do, to shape us.
You are  that beautiful beam of light
To all those who are marooned
A constant guide,
Who helps create thousand boats,
An oar to support and sail,
A voyage discovering new world,new shores.
Even when faced by a fierce vortex,
Your image within is a symbol,
Your words,“Never lose hope”
Is always a powerful ‘mantra’.
You nourished us all,
From a larvae to a pupa to a butterfly,
Out of its cocoon, finally ready to fly.
Your careful formulae and ingredients,
meticulously alchemized every individual,
Until they realised they were Prisms,
Capable of yielding brilliant spectrum.
You made every flower bloom and
Didn’t forget to add that unique fragrance,
For you each was special and different.
Not in a million ages can we pay back.
I see you sit next to God in an alter,
So simply saying,“Thankyou” is not enough.
Dear Teacher, you are
A treasure so incredible,
The greatest gift of all.

Happy Teachers’ Day India.
<a href="http://Sidewalk“>http://Sidewalk

Darjeeling has no Dirty streets

Fashionable modern men and women ,
Do you know how to use a dustbin or a dustpan?
Outdated! Is it? So Vacuum cleaner is at your hand?
They decorated the streets with
Plastics ,papers and wrappers
And themselves with ‘Brands’.
Don’t forget a Bislery  in their hand is,
ready to intrude the Virgin land.
The place itself is so serene so beautiful,
Showers of fresh air  to live and survive.
But there they are with their wicked smile
Molesting her with red splashes of ‛Pan
Proudly puffing; burning her with ‛baby buds’.
Almost a Rape,this crime is visibly invisible.
Accumulating from few to heaps,
Garbage here, there and everywhere,
Imagine pimples sprouting all over your skin?
What can our streets of Darjeeling do?
No one can help her rescue,
When such a Cancer is silently killing her.
Sometimes I hear her loud screams,
Her angry agitated Thunders,
Bulk of selfish people,she wants to get rid off
What I understood was that
She no longer wanted to be disturbed.
<a href="http://Fierce“>http://Fierce

Miniature Moments

So suddenly did it happen
I never knew and expected,
My colourful childhood ended
I would say;
on that winter afternoon
while playing in the tea garden
I felt something damp and wet
Hurried and found few red drops
I was not wounded i knew for sure
Told my mamma asking for solution
She replied,“ You are no longer a child
Just be careful of the world outside”

<a href="http://Miniature“>http://Miniature

The GrandYouth

image
Old picture,my young Granny.

I often take selfies with her. I click her pictures too. I record the conversations I have with her. I listen them and it makes me laugh. Sometimes it often makes me cry. I look deeply into her eyes and then “ I Rise Up In Love ” with her again and again.

She looks like me,her chinky eyes, tiny nose and when I go over her past photographs, she is far beautiful than me or my sisters and my aunts. Her  pure heart reflects in her face making her look so bright even now in her 80s. She is Padma, my lovely Grandma (Boju).She has marched ahead her youthful past: from being a little girl to a young woman, a mother to her eight children and now a grandma to all the present generation.

I remember my Grandpapa saying, how she looked beautiful. Those days didn’t have too many cosmetics as now, still she would apply a red lipstick which is still her favourite and a red bindi on her forehead. She isn’t literate but eighty years of experience did make her educated. The lead figure in our family,she has every solution to small and big problems. The first doctor of our family, before we visit a real doctor because she carefully recognises local plants and herbs and is always ready with the remedy. In short, she is the Hero, a superhero indeed.

She is no longer young but the youthful vibrance still vibrates the whole house.  She has taught us things beyond books and arts.
  She has aged with time and space. When I hold her hand I feel her loose thin skin with her blue channel of nerves finely visible and she shows me the marks, “Look this is the mark of the wound after the saline was injected”. Then I ask her,“Did it hurt?”and she says,“Now it doesn’t”. Lately did I notice the new piercing in her ears because the old one drooped as her skin sagged. I made a good joke about it that made her laugh. I was small when I first encountered her being severely sick and it affected a little. But now it is different and difficult as well. As she grew old sickness embraced her. This is what happens as you attain maturity and lose your Youth.
When me or my sisters become lazy to work, Boju is there with her sharp proverbs. I wonder how she remembers them all. And her famous line as adopted by my father’s generation of course is “ when we were of your age, we could catch a flying bird,hmmmm”.
My grandma is now in her childish phase and when I show her the photographs, she says , “ am I looking good?” She asks us to look at her and says,“ Mo asti ko bhanda ghateko chu?” ( Have I become weaker than before?). And she becomes happy when we tell that she looks absolutely healthy. And her nose do smile when we tease her saying,” why are you so beautiful Boju?”

Never does my Grandma mention about her Wrinkles or lines in her face. Never does she feel unhappy about her ascending age that leaves a mark in her face one after the other, her bones slowly popping out which can be felt. And she is always there to kiss in our cheeks saying ,“ my granddaughters are so beautiful. Once show me a dance like Katrina which she pronounces Kathrna”. And making us dance her lips quivers as we shake our hips until we give her a support to show some of her movements. After all she is in her grand youth.

<a href="http://Sincere“>http://Sincere

My voice, the sanctuary of thoughts. (Diary I)

(24/6)
1.What am i doing right now? I am beside my grand ma in her bed, pretending to be asleep. But no, I am pouring down my thoughts. A long journey of nearly seven to eight hours, from bus- auto-rickshaw – cab; the continuous rain, the slippery road, and the extra mile to walk to reach our home, the home which nourished me, gave me every sweet-bitter memories. After nearly 2 or 3 months I am inside my home, out of the yellow room…

The gurgling, gushing river and a few insects are the only silence breaker of this quiet night. Today I am a little closer to sadness and a bit far from happiness. So many things happeing around me… My Ama had accompanied me the whole month and now we were returning back home. I was not so happy to leave the place and come back even for a week because I would have to return back after spending a few time with my dear family and  then again I would have to go back and be nostalgic.
Life teaches us so many things

Day 2.
The hurrying rain is splattering in our roof and veranda. This is the fact that I love about Monsoon. Its sound, sometimes of the large raindrops thudding the roof, the  thunder, the lighting and the thick mass of clouds and fog that makes us miss our dear Sun.
Sharp 11pm. I am beside my boju who is already in her dreams and I am here typing my thoughts. Just a few minutes back, it was the Cow who disturbed us all because the calf was outside its shed. Its knot loosened up , so it was me and my dad who went up to the shed and put the calf inside. The continuous rain made the mud so soft and swampy. One can imagine how our happy feets might have looked. Baba tied the rope round its neck a bit, pissed off because he was so fully asleep and snoring.
My boju was so happy and relieved. At last she could now sleep in peace…
http://https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sanctuary/

Frail

image
Source: Pinterest

Pic source: Pinterest

“Frailty thy name is woman”,
Did God made her light?
For muscular men to lift her up.
The same air and diet,
Yet she is trimmed
To gain a shape, a feminine look
Is she frail and fragile?
I absolutely deny.
For she holds his sperm within,
And carries a fresh life.
<a href="http://Frail“>http://Frail

Unpredictable

She was not shy today,
To reveal all she had within,
I saw her clad in dark dress,
Shades of a few white,
Sometimes shining bright in parts
For today she had,
Black , grey and white,
Her attires in different styles.
Teardrops  in my hands and face
I felt her agony and her rage,
Then she stood up straight
Took a few steps ;And
the airy spirits placed back her Rainbow crown.
A million colors within she holds,
A strange mystery now unfolds,
An enigmatic sight so enchanting,
Nature now, the Monsoon queen.

After such a long years, it was yesterday that we were able to see such a flawless rainbow. Couldn’t capture the sight with my cell phone. But the sight was just amazing and unpredictable.
<a href="http://Unpredictable“>http://Unpredictable

He Is Not My Friend!

He Is Not My Friend’ is originally written by KATE SARAH (26.6.14 ). This is a fictional story in episodes, from a beautiful and a fantastic writer,a friend of mine.To all the readers and bloggers, here I present the two episodes from the story. Enjoy!

HE IS NOT MY FRIEND

image

1. Impression
I woke up this morning; there were butterflies inside my belly. I felt nauseous because we were close to the station. It had been three days that we spent in the train boogie. My parents came with me. If you are wondering why I am super excited it’s because I am accepted at Benjamin college of Bangalore. One of the most prestigious colleges of India, you can see this college in commercial ads and over dozens of newspapers. After my boards I told my father if I was going college then it shall be this college. My cousin sister Shristi graduated from this college last year. She is the only cousin that I am attuned to, the rest are all barbaric.
So coming to the point, I was thrilled when my dear father said,
“Rosie, you are my only child. I will spend everything for you” well my father occasionally drinks and when he drinks he makes promises but this time I wasn’t going to take it lightly. So the net was set, the trap was ready and the fish was already inside it. My mother was strictly against it.
She said, “Look at your cousins, they have government jobs they can afford big city life. I heard Shristi has a boyfriend there. You will be like her. Hanging on your boyfriend far away from home. Blah blah blah….”
To a certain point dad agreed with mother. Then I couldn’t make him see how I wanted to get out of this small town as soon as possible. I cried all night and in the morning I won.
Me=1, mother=0. Ha I won mother!
My father loves me and he will do anything for me. He is manipulated sometime by me and I hate when my cousins do that to him. They make fun of his walrus moustache and bald head but to me and mother he is handsomest the way he is.
So Rosie Rai was off to big city Bangalore, to fulfil her dreams and to be a new girl.
It’s not that I hate my hometown. I love Darjeeling so much that if God has made the paradise for me then it is my paradise. But I am not dead, I want to feel alive. It’s crazy to think that I would be spending my college years at my hometown and beside I don’t stay with my parents there. I lived seven years with my cruel maternal aunt. Her husband is worst. They make me do all the work. And on weekends they made me fill the Sintex. (as we all know about the water problems of Darjeeling). It was a total Cinderella story, only my fairy godmother and my prince charming was missing.
All work and no play will make Rosie Rai mad one day.
So I decided to save myself from further agony and decided to ditch the hills for another beautiful place.
Thats how I got here.
Bengaluru.
The first day of college I was over the moon. The weather, the trees and the soil, no more mist, no more “Rosie who will do your dishes, your appa!”.
I loved being here. It was as if the universe was in my favour. I was singing loudly at the girl’s hostel.
I made friends with fellow roommate. One was Choden Bhutia from Sikkim and the other was Priya Jain from Rajasthan. Choden was about my height. I think I got my attention towards her because she was from my neighbouring the neighbouring state. She was blessed with round face and beautiful fair skin. She wore glasses that were of a size of a bangle but she looked good on them. Beside she had good sense of dressing. Her hair was straight on her feminine shoulder. From my observation she was coy young girl who would smile whenever she meet my gaze.
Priya Jain was nothing like Choden but she was tan beauty. She looked filthy rich. Her everything was branded from her underwear to toothbrush. She was lean and weak. She had sharp facial features. Her hair was wavy and she had too many shades of red attire. She was little taller than us but due to her lean figure she looked taller than her actual height.
My parents spend their evening chatting with the director of the college who coincidently was a Gorkha. Suraj Mani Pradhan, was a resident of kurseong. Now the city of Bangalore was his home.
I heard from Choden that he owns a big land at the outskirt of the city and an authentic farm house. Dear God, Some people are living such a great life? Here I am dying for a new laptop.
Anyways my stuff was unpacked. I was doing my BA in Benjamin College. And tomorrow it was my first day at the institution.
My Dad became grumpy in the evening as we went across the city for some fresh air. He was very upset about me staying at the hostel. He kept blabbering and my mother nudged me and whispered to me my aunt’s conspiracy.
I knew it that woman needs a detergent for such foul mouth. He was having second thought, of course the city was expensive but come on for once I want to breathe here. I want to fly away from the safe nest. I want to hold on to life.
Next morning I receive a call from my father. They were leaving early, so my father bid me goodbye at 4am in the morning. I was half asleep.
When I woke up, I was late for my breakfast. I had to skip it. I had my oriented classes at 9. The shower was not working. When I hurriedly ascended towards the corridor, I saw Choden with a pale expression, “I am sorry I tried to wake you up but you were dead as a log”
No hard feelings girl! Because when someone disturbs my sleep I usually end up getting a dead sleep. And this time it was my father calling me to say goodbye. Tears swelled up as I recalled his face from yesterday. I‘ve been very close with my father more than my mother and it was killing me that for a year they would be thousand miles away from me.
I ditched my class. I had a nerve to ditch my first class. Choden insisted joining me but I wasn’t going to ruin her life for me. I walked across the lonely student park, the college was still under construction at other side of the land. I heard that they were making professor quarters. It was a huge compound. I went across the swimming pool and care to cry over for saying goodbye to home and to my parents. It’s kind of funny it wasn’t for forever that I had left them but at that moment I felt homesick, alone and stupid. Then I went to the basketball court. It was a decent court with wooden benches covering the perimeters. Beside it was the tennis court. I decide to sit at one of the benches to scratch some sketch on my note book. Not caring that it was now 11am.
While I was busy with my thought, I heard a group of boys howling. I cared not to lift my head and shower them with my attention. Then after a minute they occupied the basketball court I heard them playing. Soon they forgot I was there. The howling was for the game. I was disappointed at the thought but I was stubborn enough to stay there. I was about to finish drawing blue mimosa the ball hit my head hard and I fell on the ground between the bench. It was so embarrassing. My leg was up in air, my upper body was on the floor, God knows where my notebook was. I heard sniggers and a curse. Then two boys came to rescue. It was a surprise that they were Mongolian looking boys. One tall boy had an orange thin band around his head. He had a round face and small sparkling eyes.
He smiled apologetically at me “miss, are you okay?”
I was trembling with embarrassment and anger. I felt a warm gust of emotion rising on my face. I chose to stay silent as I dust off my jeans. The other boy was beaming at me like he was having the best time of his life.
I felt a sharp pain and realise that there was bruise marked by my pencil.
That silly boy clutched my arm and I realise that my arm hurt.
“Ouch, you idiot!” I cried.
“Sorry it was Tsujae’s fault, not mine.” He spit the truth out by pointing at the boy.
That Tsujae fella had the audacity to turn his back on me. He was about to score when the jerk looking boy next to me sold him out. He was tall and strong built. He wore his blue satin sports shorts and sport tees like everyone in the group. His hair was onyx black with a pale skin turn tan around his sleeve lines.
I was pissed that the boy who did me wrong wasn’t sorry for what he did to a girl.
“Jerk!” I said it loud so he could hear it. I saw the expression of the teammate. That Tsujae boy froze too. Then the cute looking guy next to him patted his back with a smile. So he was short tempered too. Unlucky you I can beat you in anger game.
I saw my note book at one corner and I had to rescue that piece of art I had just drawn.
“You!”
I heard the boy name Tsujae call me. It was not the voice of a 19 year old boy. It was a voice of a man coming out of his throat. Though it was muscularly coarse, he had a singing voice. I looked above to meet his gaze. He was indeed handsome boy with a perfect face and the ingredient to make him qualify as the next greek model. His nose, his eyes and his Adam’s apple were both attractive yet repulsive because of the aura he was throwing at me.
“Sorry” he said narrowing his perfect eye brows. I was appalled because his apology was like a forced one word speech. Was I suppose to thank him for knocking me off the bench?
Argh! What a Waste. So I rolled my eyes and I moved across the court to have  lunch. I could sense their eyes following me so I had to run away as soon as I left the court. I heard them snigger again and while I turned back. I saw him smirk.
Waste!

2. Make a friend
Few things to keep in mind while you are in college; make friends even when your roommates are super moody. At first I thought maybe I was being judgmental about everyone, my roommates were giving signs. Priya seldom talks. She is perky not in a good way. She has opinion about everyone and everything. She cannot be in my friend circle. And darn it she snores like a motor boat.
Choden is timid. It’s a dog eat dog world. You cannot be meek. When I ask her about her parents she stays quiet and she begins to change the topic. Her brother works at Chennai and she was suppose to go there but she opted for Bangalore. When she talks about her siblings, she can go on and on. She has six siblings and she is the youngest. Her eldest brother is married and has three kids. She has three sisters who are married too. The brother in Chennai is a bachelor. So I never ask her about her parents and I usually don’t talk about my parents. But it pisses me off when she goes all about her sibling adventure. I was always proud of being the only child to my parents.
My college friend was my roommate Choden, over the days she became my only friend. Maybe she stuck by me because she too was too lazy to make friends. There were many north-eastern seniors who would smile cordially at us. Lunch hours were entertaining. The cafeteria was flooded by the students of all department in it. I saw those four basket players sitting at one corner of the cafeteria, they looked eccentric. I noticed that they all had their left ear pierced. They looked pale and ghost like. They were sipping diet coke. The cute looking guy that stood next to that rude Tsujae guy on the basket ball court sat at the far end. His hair was jet black. He had beautiful smile. He wore brown lens making his eyes look bigger. His neck was long and of all the four boys, I found him smart and attractive. The boy with the orange thin band had swallow dimple. He was cheerful and shy. He had a silver ring at his left ear like everyone else. The idiot guy had honey blonde head which even made him look more foolish. He was gobbling down the burger voraciously. Again that Tsujae kid had his back on me. He sat lazily at the chair like the college belonged to his father. Get some life moron!
“Psst. They are freshers like us. I heard from Sakchi the other day that they are called N.E.S.T boy band. They are a big thing in music” Choden whispered to me. I don’t know when, how and where she gets to hear all these sorts of things. She is always with me. But darn! NEST, that’s a bird home. Why not change the name to CAGE instead, that would be much better if they are bird lovers. Choden corrected me, their names initials made up for their band’s acronym.
The cute and smart boy was Namsay Wangchuk, the guy with orange wire band was Emmanuel Kikon, the boy with the funny hair was Namsay’s cousin, Sangdhup Wangchuk, and last one was Tsujae I don’t know his real name everybody called him that.
My eyes were burning, I don’t have friends and while I was in school I wasn’t that popular. I think I had enemies more than friends and I don’t care if history repeats itself here. I wasn’t here to make friends. I was sure that this boy band here would always be my worst enemy, especially that Tsujae kid. When the boys saw me stare at them, that Tsujae Guy turned to face me. I saw his eyes, they were weary and he too wore lens. There was definitely tension between us, by now he knew I hated him. Hate is a strong word to say someone but every inch, everything about that guy and even his name made me hate him.
“Lets go Choden” I pulled Choden to leave then a guy dashed with me. I felt hot oats at my pink shirt. The four boys guffawed as I rolled my eyes.
“Who has oats at their lunch?”I told the boy whose lunch was at my favourite t shirt.
“I am sorry,” he apologized.
I don’t know why but I turned to look at Tsujae. He still had that antagonist smirk on his face.
What the damn hell!
On our second week in college, the seniors called us in. We freshers were escorted by a thin boy wearing khol in his eyes. The orientation programmes were finally over. When we entered the hall which was double the size of my school hall, the seniors welcome us with applaud. On the back of my head I thought “oh boy, I feel like lamb walking in a slaughter house”. However it was a different scenario. We were given the front seats. Some seniors wore white coat, goth make up, bikers jacket and gloves and magnolia brooch pinned at their chest. There were four people on the stage. One lean guy with the goth make up and mike in his hand introduced himself and the four clubs. Benjamin College was different from others. Here the power of administration was equally distributed amongst the faculty and the club leaders. Which was kind of good thing. Every year the freshers had to choose their club and based on your personalities, you got your club. It felt like being in Hogwarts except the sorting hat was missing. The club names were hilarious, as if the founders of clubs had decided the names on a lazy summer afternoon.
Geek Genius, also known as white coat or Greek. They would only take nerds. Most of them were from science department.
Punk Goth aka the black band or Punk. I thought they were joking when they called us, freshers and introduced these clubs to us. This club belonged to all kind of music fanatics and I heard they usually dominated the cultural fest held at the college and at the city.
Meteriods or steroids. Dominated by men. This club had least members. This club members wore bikers gloves. Though less in number, this club was good at everything mainly sports.
Magnolia aka sisters (I don’t know y they called this group sisters). The leader of this club wore a white magnolia flower brooch on her coat. She had familiar face. This club was for artists.

Now we were seated at the first row. I was with Choden, beside us at the first row was the NEST boys (I will call them NEST, because the whole college calls them that). The club leader of Magnolia, a young girl probably in her early twenties came up to us. She had round face and with bob hair which even made her face look round. As she smiled and waved at us, we couldn’t see her eyes. She looked like the next generation of entrepreneur. Her lilac coat had magnolia brooch, she wore a white stockings underneath her gray skater skirt. Her ballerina shoes were so small it made my feet hurt.
She was friendly and was excited for us, well her eyes and attention was towards the NEST boys. She gave us each the Magnolia Brooch which was a code that we belonged to the club.
“But we haven’t selected our clubs” I had to tell her.
“Haven’t anyone told you? Magnolia is compulsory for Mongolian Indian like us”.
My dreams were shattered, I wanted to try bikes.
Later that evening we gathered at the club room for meeting.
The girl whom we had met at the hall was our club president, her name was Megha Zow.
She was enthusiastic when we entered the room. All the eyes were on us. I was kind of blushing by the attention they were showering. When I realise that the attention was for the four boys. I could see Magnolia had 80% girls. The other reason for their joy was the NEST.
Megha had clear scheme. She always dreamt of beating the Punks.
She happily announced that the autumn culture fest was ours now. I could see the Magnolia’s were blushing ear to ear.
NEST  boys were least interested in their schemes.
They were too soaked in vanity to present a fresher’s song.
Well yeah, the college was buzzing with fresher’s and the party the Punks were throwing. It was the year of black band aka punks. The posters were pasted on the fresh white walls. The theme was dark as the club members. It was a theme of vampire’s. Twilight, Bram stroker, true blood and vampire diaries were pasted all over the bright corridors.
For the first week it was interesting and exciting. Choden too was curious, Megha had provided us with the theme costumes details. Even though I told them we were perfectly okay in our jeans and tees. She was crazy about the customs that Benjamin College had for four years. It was to abide by their rules. The rules were to follow whatever the clubs decided. Democracy here was hanged. I got few clues that I was not welcome at the clubs.
At a club where there are female population over 80% and who steal glances and some glare at you, you can clearly picture how you would feel.

They were all over the new boy band of the college. Even the boys had their man crush on the members. Surprisingly, my friend Choden too disliked the band. Well I had my reasons and she had hers. Whenever we met the NEST boys at the corridor, her lashes would drop while my head would be extra strong on my shoulder. I don’t know why but the boys would snigger whenever they pass by us.

It was my second week on campus. I was full of energy and positivity. Most of the professors and my peers had prophesized that I was the next Megha Zow of Benjamin college. I was flattered because Megha is a pert. I like her because she brings the best in our club and in our campus. At first I was not confident whether I was even capable of the title.

Choden was supportive when she encouraged me to have faith on myself. I look at her sometimes and I watch her closely. She gives me advice, she gives me company and I feel like she is lonely most of the time. I feel sorry for her and I try to break the ice but she has kept herself within the barb wire. She doesn’t allow herself to slip outside her barrier. She doesn’t laugh too loud, she doesn’t smile too wide. She is limited at everything she does. She is an altruist.

The preparation of Fresher’s day was going smoothly except for costumes. We freshers would win the competiton if our costumes were best. And only the fresher’s had the right to wear the themed costume and make up. Megha gave me a Victorian gown. It was a dirty lilac cotton bush that an amateur designer had built in a hurry. I hated it the moment she gave it to me. Girl! She is tough. She told me straight, wear it or wear nothing. I was little hurt. Who was she to boss me around? One thing led to another and Choden had to sacrifice her purple satin gown with my ragged gaga gown. By now
I realise that I had messed up my first quarter of semester with my club leader.
The other members soon began to give me cold stares.
The NEST boys were having the time of their life. They were given best clean looking cloths. That Namsay guy got the best tuxedo in the house. We had to the dinner rehearsals with our costumes. Sangdhup proposed that since the theme was of “vampire” why not wear artificial fangs.
“Why are you being dramatic?” I told him. It irritated me because they were being too extravagant for fresher’s. My parents belong to lower middle class family and seriously I don’t want to be albatross around their neck. Extra something to me meant being profligate. I came here for better education not for fashion.
“Why do you have problem with everything Ms Rai?” Sangdhup teased me.
Sometime I feel like slapping his face but I can’t.
I saw Megha was staring at me from head to toe.
“Purple looks great” she examined me. “Do little goth makeup and hairdos”
She was avoiding Sangdhup’s crazy ideas.
The club room looked congested with the four tall boys overshadowing her judgements.
“What I am saying is that it’s too extravagant for Fresher’s welcome don’t you think? Costumes and makeup and all the crazy stuff as theme Fresher’ welcome.”
Everybody gasped except the boys.
“Look Rose or whatever your name is” said the girl next to Megha I don’t ready get the names right so let’s call her “the vice president of the club”. She had thin face and black circles and white teeth that made her look more dark skin. “…just because somebody told you can be a president of this club one day doesn’t mean you already are a president. Megha is the leader here, she decides what to do”
It was like a thump on my ego. How can people be so rude? I was just suggesting. My thumb crushed inside my fingers as I controlled my temper inside my fist.
Megha on the other hand was sneering at the statement her vice president had just thrown me into.
“Why? Can’t you pay for a fake fang?” everybody laughed I felt ashamed of my poverty.
“No it’s not that” I defended with my lie. My face however couldn’t suppress my shame and my lie. I felt hot warm blood over my cheek, I knew instantly that my skin matched with the interior of the club room.
“Oh forget it, the clubs pay for everything that is why we have quarterly fees for clubs”
Seeing the colour of my skin, she smiled cordially at me and rubbed my forearms gently.
“We can also wear lens?” suggested someone from the group. Everybody around me clasped their hands with excitement my lashes were down because my ego was hurt. I was ashamed of my family economy. I watched the boys and girls around me. They had beautiful cloths and hair extensions. They had expensive cell phones and loud make up. Their shoes looked new. My knees were shaking. Maybe coming to another city mixing up with other group of people who doesn’t speak your tongue, whose pocket money is greater than your father’s pension, was a wrong idea.

Earlier that week I was blooming with confidence. Today I felt like a loser and everyone who was laughing at their own jokes made me feel like they was jeering at me.
I sat at one corner playing with my phone. There was a certain urge to call my parents and to beg them to take me away to my paradise. I fought with that strong urge. Choden was doing her hair. Divyani ah yes that’s her name, our vice president was doing her makeup and hair.
My eyes were at my feet when someone called my name,
“Rosie, are you okay?” I looked up to see him. Namsay had the most beautiful smile.
“Can I sit with you?” he was gallant too.
It was confusing. I hated almost everyone in that boy band except this beautiful creature.
I looked away I didn’t wanted to chat with him. Half of the girls around me froze as he sat next to me. I saw the rest of the boys. Emmanuel was watching Divyani and Choden. Did he want to have a hairdo that Choden was getting? I wasn’t sure.
Sangdhup was having the best time of his life with the girls, who were hovering around him like bees doing his makeup. I saw Tsujae staring at the mirror. Surprising no girls hover over him. He was alone staring at the mirror and I realised when our eyes met at the mirror that he was watching me with grim face.
“Why is he always like that?” I asked Namsay. He laughed a short laugh and said, “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover”
We had a little chat. Namsay was from Bhutan but his parents had settled down in Delhi. Sangdhup was his first cousin and currently he was staying at his cousin’s place.
I don’t know why I wanted to know more about Tsujae but I had no gut to ask.

Choden was not beside me, I felt lonely in the crowd. So I decided to visit cafeteria and have some fresh air there. On the way I heard some giggles behind my back. I felt exactly like Hermione Granger when her friends made fun of her at the beginning of her days at Hogwarts. The only exception is that she was a witch and I am nobody.
At the cafeteria I ordered a coffee to Joseph. “What are they laughing at?” he asked.
And I had no answer. The giggle started as I turned for my class. I ran away I heard Joseph shouting behind me my name.
After that I returned to have my Psychology class and I saw that everybody at the corridor was giggling at me.
Have you ever dreamt of being naked? I felt like I was stripped. They were laughing too loudly. My temper was safe inside my fist.
I entered my class room and they started to laugh at me. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. My tears were at the brim of my lashes. My lips were trembling. What had I done? I had no idea. Hopefully I saw Choden at the front row with the same look as Joseph in the cafeteria. I raise my eyes to see the NEST boys who were not laughing at me except for Sangdhup. Namsay waved at me, Emmanuel had his hands folded on his chest. Tsujae was watching me through his grave eyes. He had leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and his lips sealed by the hand on which he had rested his head. I sat beside Choden and the laughter began to reach at the peak.
“What’s this?” she pulled out a sticky note and cartoon sticker of a red angry bird off my back.
I had never cried in public and the tears at the brim of my eyes would not stop for a second. They laughed and they laughed at me except Choden who stood up at her chair and led out a loud cry.
“Who did this to her?”
I had never seen her that way. She was as red as me and I saw her veins throbbing at her temples as she demanded to know who the culprit was. I ran away because my throat could no longer hold my cry. After a while I was crying at the ladies common room.
My mother doesn’t cry. She has I think castrated her tear bags. I have never seen her cry in my entire life even when muma(her mother) passed away few years ago. I don’t have a friendly relationship with her. My father is a cry baby and my mother is a rock for both of us. I know she loves me when she used to put an extra lump of momo she had saved for me. I was missing her at the moment because whenever I cry she is the one to cheer me up. I missed my home. The tears wouldn’t stop. My eyes were red and swollen so were my lips. My nose burned because I had rubbed it for too long. I heard Choden at the door.
“Things are taken care of no need to worry” I heard her concern voice.
And that’s how Choden Bhutia became my best friend for life.

Next on HE IS NOT MY FRIEND
Freshers day a disaster for Rosie. How could I be friends with the beast? He is malechavinist, a pervert and socially incompetent. Who put the drugs in our drinks? Who?…..

<a href="http://Awe“>http://Awe

"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect"