Being Human

Leo Tolstoy said, 'If you want to be happy, be.'

I know this not because I spend my free time browsing through classic works of literature, but because I spend the time in which I really should be working, to browse through Facebook.

Like right now, I should be finishing an assignment due tomorrow.

But what had I been doing?

I'd liked and shared that post, along with some deeply philosophical quote I'd hastily looked up on Google, and then checked my page feverishly every two minutes to see if anyone liked or commented on it.

Because this is exactly what I use Facebook for.

To project an other wordly and profound image of myself to strangers on the Internet, like I totally hadn't minutely criticised some random person's over edited selfie, after which I'd proceeded to pick my own phone up and take a zillion selfies in various pretentious poses and edited one of them to the extent that I was barely recognizable and then put that up as my WhatsApp dp.

But of course, before that, I'd made very good use of time by attempting to learn the lyrics of a Tamil song, an attempt which was quickly abandoned for obvious reasons. After which out of a sudden increase in affection for my own mother tongue, I'd listened to Bengali songs back to back.

You see, I'm only human.

The only line which seems to justify all my actions off late.

Like, when I doze off in class after having slept for 10 hours straight.
Like, when I polish off a red velvet cake after having lunch that made me so full that I couldn't move.
Like, when I write random shit that comes to my mind when I REALLY REALLY should be finishing that assignment.

Bye.

luv u loads xoxo

You are a Part of It!

Hello there.

Happy Onam!

I know, I'm 83.2% South Indian already. I just need to stop puking at the sight of sambar.

In all seriousness, the continuous ongoing cultural exchange here is a truly delightful thing. Some of my closest friends here speak Malayalam as their mother tongue, and though they come from a different state, and a few others have even lived in a different country, the lives they've lead so far, and the kind of experiences they've had, are not really that different from the one I've lived or had. 

This is what binds us together, the Kannadigas, the Malayalis, the Bengalis, the Tamilians, the Assamese, the Hindi speakers and the (sole) Nepali: the universality of the experiences we gather as we grow, the lessons we learn as we walk, the stripes we earn when stumble.

But leaving aside that philosophical crap, hostel life has been a blur so far. The days whiz by without us noticing, and the weekends disappear at the speed of light. We just don't get the time to miss our hometowns and the people we've left behind, that much.

But of course, you always miss it. You miss the sights, smells and sounds of the city you grew up in, the city which knows you as much as you know her. Kolkata, as I type this, is gearing up for the loud, noisy, festive, lively carnival every year, called Durga Puja, and I miss every bit of it.

I miss my family, of course, but at least I get to hear their voice whenever I want to. How do you listen to the sound of your home? How do you bottle up a city's humming spirit and it's thrum of life, and carry it with you to listen to, when you miss it too much? 

But it's alright. In a different place, you learn to appreciate your own language, and your own culture a lot more than you did in your own place. You learn that diversity IS truly beautiful and that you are a part of that diversity, and you are contributing to its beauty. 

 On that note, I leave you. 

See you next time!