Step Into My Shoes..

Last night as I lay down poring over the pages under the bright orangey lamp light, I was being nibbled by a feeling that the day had gone to waste. The day had been glorious. The sun was out and the sky had shone like new furniture. I was up early, too early for a day without work and classes. I had begun the day with the book. Like, I was up and had started reading without even getting up. After two hours of reading, I had been up and working out. For someone who is a huge fan of sunny days, whenever the morning graces with a bright sunlight, it is an open invitation for going out. And yet for someone who is also a big fan of reading, staying home and having a good read of a good book is equally tempting. I did go out for breakfast, and although I spent some time looking for places I could go, none fit the shoes of convenience. So I ended up laying down on my bed with sun pouring through the window, bright and warm, and reading. And I didn't just read. I lived three liv...

About four months ago, when I was shopping for my trip to Australia, I bought a perfume that I liked very much. (Okay, not a trip, cause that makes it sound like I’m on a holiday, which I’m not.) I had also bought other ones but that one was special. The first weeks in Australia had been the most apprehensive. Apprehension of things that were new, people who were strange, places that were different, systems that were alien and ways that were unfamiliar. Also there were the feelings of excitement for all the experiences that awaited (like getting aboard a train, walking on a beach…something I had been looking forward to my whole life), for all the friends to be made (Nepalese and otherwise), the scenes to behold and the food to be had (“other than just mo:mo” was what I had thought at first, but how wrong I was since I crave for mo:mo more than anything at all times).  Then there was the anxiety of having things fall short of my expectations (which I had little but still...

Year 2003, "Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix" book released. Year 2003, I started reading "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban"; my very first from the series. It was just another book for me, and since I had fallen into a habit of taking a book to wherever I went, I took it to school. I used to read it on the way, during classes and between them too. What I could ever have understood reading from the 3rd part of the series, I don't remember. We had one big library but it had one issue each of the 5 books. I had to wait forever for the first one. And yet, I managed to read all of them at least 3 times. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, (   Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon  ) Those were magical days...of wishing there really was Hogwarts so that we could get on to Jacobite at the beginning of a school session, of drawing Hogwarts emblem wherever I could find an empty space, of making a scrapbook full of Harry Potter news clips, of...

My memory fails me at times. I am not that young any longer. I recall someone telling me that I sound like someone beyond my age. If they did not see my picture, they'd believe I was a middle aged woman wallowing in the memory of my good old days. I know an occasional dysfunctional memory is anyone's pain in the neck. And I just made a big thing out of nothing, just like old women do, or just like people like me do. What brought this on is a picture which was preceded by a word. The word - tapioca: a food substance prepared from cassava in granular, flake, pellet (pearl tapioca), or flour form, used in puddings, as a thickener, etc. And the picture: Now this strummed memory cords in an unusual way. Where have I seen this? I have tasted it, perhaps years ago, or maybe it was just months. Its taste is like a phantom that lingers at the roof of my mouth but I do not have a solid recognition to grab on to. Is it an imagination? The word is a stranger, the pictu...