SaumyaRants

 The journey back home begins with a sigh of fulfillment followed by a thought of determination. Armed with the metro card which brings me immense convenience, I walk briskly and quickly from the college to the metro station, eager to reach the comfort of my home, to my lovely mother and her delicious and nutritious food, to my cute dog which demands pets, to my  bed which seems to call me with great appeal.  Although the destination is fated and the end always provides huge relief, it is not without obstacles and temptations. The surroundings also provide amusement.  Ignoring the appetising aroma of the bhel puri, momo, and ice cream and refusing to join in with the crowds relishing in their taste, I walk further to climb the stairs in a little effort to maintain my fitness. Quickly taking my bottle out of my bag before putting it through the security scan, and getting scanned myself, I head upstairs, wondering whether the sound of the metro is the one I have to sit...

 I ditched my school farewell to go on a trip to Shimla with my mom and her friends. I don't regret it one bit.  I have spoken before about how I'm not particularly attached to my school in The End of School Life . So missing my farewell was not that big of a deal for me. Shimla was spectacular and the trip of a lifetime. Shimla is known for being beautiful. It is straight out of a fairytale. The mountains, the roads, the shops, all are very remarkable and unique.  The mountainous streets were very tiring and new to us plain dwelling creatures. There is an absence of autos in the roads of Shimla and instead there are only buses which were no less than a roller coaster for me, with the meandering roads which also decrease and increase in elevation. During the night the mountains, with their lights look like a grand tapestry. I bought a bubbles toy which made huge bubbles- bigger than I had ever seen before. The sellers blowed them on the street which made the already surre...

 In this post I'm going to recount a few fond memories with my paternal grandfather, Babaji. Most of these are of the time when he used to pick me up from school for a few months in fourth grade. He used to pick me up from the front field of our school and we walked back to the car, often holding hands. I often found a small stone to kick along the way. In the car, there would be always waiting for me a pillow and a bottle of cold water. It felt no less than luxury. He asked me eagerly what I learned in school. I remember one time I told him I had learned a new word- unique. He asked me what it's meaning was and I said different. But that's not an exact synonym, and he explained the nuance in the different meaning of the two words. I remember, earlier he had explained to me the same way how the Hindi words बाल and केश differed from each other. Since he used to pick me up from the field, where a lot of my classmates were waiting to be picked up too, I often asked them how ol...

 I finally got done with school. It was the end of the fourteen years of my life- all spent in the same school. It was supposed to be bittersweet, nostalgic, melancholic and emotional, at least, that's what all media taught me. It wasn't. I loved that it was finally ending. Perhaps it was the lack of vacations for years in a row, the lack of deep friendships, my dip in academic performance, or it could have been the fact that it did not feel like the same school anymore. In 14 years, the school had not only managed to completely change its buildings, but the prayers said in the assembly, its teaching style, its uniform, its colour scheme, the house names, the children's park, its symbol, the copy and book covers, almost everything. Imagine the classroom walls, chairs, tables, staircases, corridors looking almost completely different from your first memories of the school. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the wider staircases, the ACs, and the washrooms being miles ...

  I think most of us could write something on this title. However, as I have grown and seen how my peers talk about their mothers, and admire mine, I have realized she is not just my mother, but my best friend. Many a times I have heard classmates talk about how one cannot tell everything to their parents, and I have and silently disagreed. To her love not only for me but for everyone, her hardworking nature, her impeccable cooking skills, and her passion, I have learned and have yet to learn a lot from her. Her oiling and combing my hair almost everyday, and her telling me which clothes to wear as I have negative amount of fashion sense. I got awesome hand me downs from her,  I like to wear them. I find it very beautiful and quaint that I'm wearing clothes that she did when she was younger, and almost every time she says, "I can't believe that used to fit me?" I could go on and on about her cooking, I am not joking when I say that the food she cooks is better than th...

 I have had some experience with van life, and have even mentioned it in my " Different Saumyas " post. No, I'm not talking about selling my house and living in a van like recent social media trends might have you thinking, I'm simply talking about commuting to school and back in a van. Like I said in the post linked above, it definitely contributed to my personality. I am not the kind of person who would just not say anything when somebody attempts to be rude anymore. It has also given me a few of my fond memories. One very rainy day, the streets had flooded and the van stopped on the road. The driver (who was the worst out of all I had during my van life) simply stepped out of the car and went into some unknown abyss out of our sight without saying a word . This lack of concern for us was not uncharacteristic of him, more on that later. The van currently had a girl my age, a boy a couple years junior, and of course, me. All was fine and well and we continued chattin...