Durgapur.
A compound with a small patch of grass, two small square ponds filled with muck and snails and [hopefully, I say] hydras. Most of the time, the lone Koel gets very bored and starts cooing in an energetic tone. And thus those treepies join in and the parakeets get agitated. A few minutes later it's all over.
And then, silence.
The home-theatre inside is booming with Lacuna Coil's soothing strain. The lone occupant of the echoing house starts faintly nodding his head to said music. He then gets distracted and turns off the music and goes out. His head is spinning with too much of input.
He takes out a wide-screen laptop, muttering how he hates the brand, and he starts randomly browsing the net, sitting under a large tree, which proves to be equally friendly to humans, ants, worms and large flies.
The Prince slowly escapes into the large, now-barren garden. In a few months' time, all this would be a lush lawn, as it used to be. Just a little water. Just a little gardening, and everything would be beautiful again.
He studies a little, but he studies the life in his new surrounding. Everything moves if you keep your eyes still.
He watches movies and the stars when he gets the time, and when he doesn't feel sleepy. Finally.
Oh lovely new Home.
9 comments:
New surroundings, new inspiration?
it sounds absolutely wonderful, bro :)
I am really happy for you! :D
Get me a hydra, will you? :P
A hydra. Right. I'm not saying nothing here, old fellow.
And is it really farewell to Kokkata this time? Well, transpire to be inspired - what with all 'em trees.
It's such a pleasure to read puns that are actually funny. And a pain to read those that are not... pain that I do not enjoy
Thank you, Prince mine.
And yes, it does feel good to be back and writing again. True, I shudder at the very thought of the fat lot of catching up that I'll have to do, but still, I know it will be good, in every sense of the word. The clumsiness persists, and I'll need some time to regain the ease with which I used to blog before I went into the year-long hibernation. Maybe I'll just keep writing and let time take care of the rest.
Relationships can make or break you. I've seen and been through both kinds. And when I come to think of it, who hasn't? Go where your relationships take you, Prince mine, and you'll see some interesting places. Those vines you have written of bear beautiful flowers. Thorns are often part of the package, but then they are all right if they aren't so poisonous as to ruin you completely.
The 'letting go' I spoke of isn't a good thing to try one's hand at. Things that one lets pass may not come back even when one realizes their worth and wants to hold them close again. I lost a lot, and would have lost a lot more had I persisted in ‘letting go’.
Durgapur does sound wonderful, Prince mine. But why Durgapur, may I, sadly ill-informed as I am, ask? Leaving Kolkata, are you?
Now what can one say to a pretty old and well-loathed associate?
In short, congratulations on having reached so far: a year closer to your death.
A valar valuvar. Namarie.
PP: Yes. And maybe a new home. :)
Shre: It is!
LD: I shall try on my latest voyage. If only I had seen a hydra before... sigh. {And thank you!}
Aas: I believe so. Relationships, heh. There were a few experimental ones in the most, some truly hideous ones as well. However, I believe I have found some peace now. It's... well... something of a miracle that after all these sick and idiotic days I've actually stumbled upon something proper.
I know that those vines bear beautiful flowers. And sometimes, the thorns aren't felt. The roots break the wall, as I told you. Heh.
I see. I shan't try it voluntarily then.
It is one wonderful place milady! Pretty, pretty, and pretty.
I'm not leaving Calcutta. My father has been transferred there, and my mother will be leaving Calcutta for Durgapur after I [hopefully] get into a college. So, in all probability I will leave Calcutta {though, something makes me want to stay here, whatever the cost}. That. Basically.
Sometimes I feel that blogs should not have comments. Or, that only the people who'd be able to understand could comment. I mean, some comments are unnecessary and intrusive.
Post a Comment