S unlight slipping through tiny slots, of shuttered windows barring me from outside, heavy eyes yearning to go back to sleep, or to wake up to a better 'morrow Not another of those days, I hear my mind complain, to sitting in front of screens, a bizarre new routine I crave for those carefree walks and those idyllic cafe spots, for no masks, no fear of coughs It's surreal to see this unfold, social distancing, no hands to hold, as an invisible enemy lurks about I can't just shrug this paranoia off, despite things looking up afterall, except for those coloured cloths covering faces and maintaining distance in public spaces But I have lost the freedom to dream, of traveling to lands unseen As fear approaches about the future, every day an inch closer I try to silence my inner demons, splashing paint over canvases and bottles, trying out new recipes, recreating familiar flavours As that tiny part of me stays to remind, ...
Posts
It’s already been a year since I moved to Ulm, so I decided to do the customary walk down memory lane (also because nostalgia usually revives the dormant writer in me). It all began last February when I got my visa, booked the tickets and started packing my luggage full swing for the big move. Prioritizing on what made its way into my suitcases was a task by itself. Everything was finally set for my departure and I had a morning flight from my hometown, Chennai. After the procedures at the airport I sat, book in hand, to wait for my flight that was delayed by two hours. I hoped I would be on time for my connecting flight in Delhi. I made my way into Delhi at the exact time that my next flight was scheduled for its final boarding. I frantically ran into the international connections corridor and was guided to the terminal of my next flight by a friendly staff from the airline. It was a relief when I finally sat by my window seat in the airplane after all the running across termina...
Sound of Silence
Now that my newbie phase has waned away, I often recollect all the aspects that demanded getting used to over the past few months. The very first thing that bothered me was the absolute silence around. Having grown up in a house overlooking the local railway station, constant noise has been an integral and inseparable part of my life. Somehow over the years I started associating the lack of sound with discomfort. And suddenly I was in a place where I could hear the whoosh of the Volkswagens with my windows shut! In the first week post arrival, since my body was getting adapted to the coldest weather it has ever witnessed (combined with a different microbial environment), I was down with a sore throat and bad cough. So whenever I had to cough it felt like a percussion act gone awry and worse still when those coughs wanted to exit in the middle of the night, it felt like I was waking up the entire apartment! Hunger pangs felt like audible conversations with my stomach. Not o...
I woke up the next day to the sunlight streaming through the windows; the wispy thin curtains not withholding much. Little did I know then about the blinds outside the window (and it took me a good one week to figure that out). I tossed on the bed, taking a moment to register where I was. I could see my suitcases lying half open across the room. Just the thought of unpacking seemed exhausting. I got up and went over to the window to see the view. There was a school right opposite, one of those old buildings with a clock tower and attic. I could see some kids on the street making their way to the school. I opened the window and felt the chilly breeze on my face (and another month by the time I learnt to keep the windows half open, in the typical German style). I closed it to get back to the warmth of my heater. I rummaged through my bags for my toothbrush and unpacked some essentials for the time being. I clicked some pictures of the house and started to get ready for my f...
Yesterday marked two months since my arrival at Ulm and it’s definitely been the most enriching sixty days so far. I still recollect that day in early February when I landed at Frankfurt with a pounding headache, finding my way to baggage claim across the labyrinth that the Frankfurt airport is, lugging around my suitcases in what seemed to be an eternity of a walk to the train station, and waiting in the platform with the chilly weather attacking me despite the many layers of clothing. I ran around with my luggage to get into the wagon, struggling to lift the second suitcase when a kind middle-aged man walked by and instructed me to just get in. I blindly followed his words; this stranger who stopped by just to place my suitcase in one effortless lift onto the train. In the few minutes that the train had stopped at Frankfurt, I wasn’t able to get into the right compartment. So I had to push my American Touristers (thank god for their 360 degree wheeling!) through two more compartme...
A bird perched upon a signboard, cloudy skies, John Denver singing ‘Leaving on a jet plane’ into my ears, as the bus winds downhill. The beautiful valley comes into view, with its different hues of green; like right out of a postcard. I wonder if I will ever grow tired of this! There's something new to spot everyday. Narcissus ringing in spring over sidewalks, magnolias in delightful pinkish reds, and cherry blossoms looking like dollops of stardust. That pretty house with its idyllic windows, a telephone booth snugly sitting in a corner, wall murals that speed past. I am lost in these sights and the guitar notes of ‘Hotel California’ when I realise I have to change buses at the next stop. I pause the music and get off. It has rained here; I see puddles and maneuver my way around it. I find a spot to wait, narrowly escaping the raindrops that are rolling off the bus shelter. My eyes dart to the display; four minutes left for my bus. Billy Joel is humming whilst my bus arrive...