Skip to main content
It was a cold December day,  she ran across her department corridor in search of some faint sun rays which escaped out of those dusty Windows. She hated damp places . Her throat was sore from fever and her eyes had transformed into fire balls. She stood leaning by the window unaware of how time ticked away, time just flew whenever she stood there for she felt she could never have enough of it.

That was what she did everyday during those boring break hours. Her friends wanted to drag her away to catch some fresh air but she preferred not to for they little knew what made that dusty window corner her favourite spot,  it had sunshine and a view that she wanted her heart to hold. The window overlooked a tiny island in midst of a pond which was home to a herd of rabbits who were nonchalant to the world around them. Each passing day, the window brought her closer to their world.

Winter slowly slipped away into spring, the tiny rabbits stopped basking under the sun. They started keeping themselves to their burrows and she started missing that familiar sight. Summer slowly took away the charm of backing under the sun and it became unbearable to stand by that old familiar window.

Projects and assignments slowly drew her towards a mechanised world where she had to function as a robot to get her grades right. It was almost winter again when she started to long to be by that window but by now her university days were over and she had headed home.

Her window didn't promise her of that view which she held so dear and while she knew that the rabbits must have long been gone, her adamant heart fed itself a make believe, it sought recluse in those memories by that dusty window corner where life precisely happened.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more  can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing...
2 comments
Read more

What do you want to be?

While I was in my 10th standard, almost everyone I met wanted to know what I wanted to be. This question always perplexed me. From the lens of a fifteen year kid who was not yet sure of the changes which awaited in the near future, this question gave me nightmares. I would constantly sit by the mirror and ask myself, what actually would be my answer. My friends always had fancy answers at their disposal. They would confidently chirp whenever any one asked about it. What amused me most was, my friend who had no inkling to study Biology wanted to be a doctor and another friend who detested the idea of even cooking noodles, wanted to be a chef! But whenever they spoke about their wishes, they would always sound confident. And there I was, fumbling for words which refused to escape my lips. It was not until I entered Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya to do my plus two, I found my voice. The teachers there have a different way of viewing life. For the first time, I no longer felt the classroom...
2 comments
Read more

Grandpa and me

I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents.  It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could...
2 comments
Read more