living different realities!

i'm finally home. and this time for a fairly longish break. It's exciting in a way, because somehow doing nothing at home is also very very solacing. One can laze around lazily in the room, or chat with mom and dad, watch my mum work and crib and work and crib so much that now they don't seem that they're being alternated, but rather 2 actions that can never part with each other, watch my dad be on the defensive sometimes, watch mummy get up with a start every now and then with the upping and downing of the market, watch the whole house speed around the house to pack my brother off to the college and get-up to power-packed tea discussions with mom and dad and having late-night chats with Debo, or walking those walks on the terrace, wherefrom I could see a really-far off development also, wherefrom I can see only much closer buildings and wherefrom, all those little twinkling lights in the distance, in the twilight are now obliterated by very opaque structures. It's a killer to listen to your favourite music and walk in that haven of mine. Earlier my parents used to freak out, because it's a sort-of ramshackle of a place with lots of junk kept from earlier times, but now I think they've given up.

It just doesnt seem like 3 days have already dragged rush past me and I havn't done anything extraordinary. My train journey was rushed, extremely rushed. I almost ran in the auto also, in order to reach on time. I ran across 1 no. platform to reach 6 no. platform, dragging my suitcase and a sack thinking what might happen if I missed the train. Thankfully, I reached 5 minutes too before the train was about to leave and the train left 5 minutes too after it was scheduled for departure. As far as I can remember, when we all used to travel together, dad used to carry an air-pillow and we all used to carry beddings and extra sheets, which my dad put for everyone very meticulously. I also remember there being a pantry in the train and vendors shunting in the train. I remember longer journeys and people talking to each other all the time.

Anyhow, I watched Motorcycle Diaries again, this time paying attention on the details and faces. It was a fairly dark film, or maybe it was the resolution but either way, I couldn't tell much, only being able to figure out some contours. The films looked exactly what it was depicting perhaps. It looked like a journey, a rather happening one, across South America. Ofcourse, not to mention that Ernesto was a beautiful man and a beautiful man. I also want to travel the same way he did. But i doubt if I am that dauntless.

The dissertation on climate change is rearing it's ugly head yet again. Its amazing how it's still occupying me with occupying me much really. I mean, its not that I'm doing much about it, but it's also not that my mind is without fear and care. But I will definitely start doing something, something chunky and tangible.

Why I say, i'm living in different realities because home's a different world altogether. The paces change drastically. From a really fast and packed one to a really slow and crawling one, where you have just enough time to chill. Norms and reasons change. Zoo becomes suddenly too old for marriage at home and too young for it otherwise. Ideas of entertainment also change. Ideas of a good holiday changes. Ideas of the right time to wake up, eat, play, work and sleep change. What becomes important is to then reduce the distress caused by this immense sea of difference. That's the only how one can celebrate it.

Later