The week of finding certainty in uncertainty. #2 of The US of A & I

More often than not, what is planned is not what is executed. This could be called a different kind of joy.This wonderful joy was magnified multi-folds in this part of the world, accompanied by unpredictable sessions of snow, storm and heat.

Well,
PLANNED: Free Chocolate tasting event at Harvard Square. Followed by Lunch at a beautiful place.
EXECUTED: Downtown Boston, an effort to complete the Freedom Trail, Sky Scrappers and their charm, good, I repeat GOOD coffee, the unending love for postcards, the first taste of rice after a week, the musician at the T(rain station), who looks at you straight in the eye, instantly radiating happiness, the sight of warm buildings, in color, texture and grace, absolutely scrapping off the thought of the dropping temperatures. Witnessing a bunch of the happiest people in town, interacting with the public, making them blush, pushing them to fall prey to funny dances and a whole lot of heart-warming laughter. The discovery of Indian, Italian, French and German cuisine stores. To flood one another with stories from back home, as though all of them came springing to our minds upon the sight of these stores. The glory of the night sky, with its forever companion, the Moon, trying to reach out to those building shining and glittering to amaze everyone who set eyes on it. To reach home and sigh 'AH' in chorus. What a day, we wink!

In moments like these, you agree surprises are indeed always beautiful. There is an immense beauty in uncertainty. The certainty of uncertainty.
Days of mindlessness, happiness and a certain nothing. The stillness of art.
Finally, after several days of understanding that I was nothing close to independent, I figure out to travel by myself, of course without the highly required internet/maps/gps. The sky is so beautiful. The Bangalore Sky is what I missed the most, for it formed a very important part of my happiness and me-time. Boston decides to take care of this, and how? In colors, sunlight and patters, more so, a story, Like the sun urges the sky to move past, like the sky defends, like this beautiful quarrel only gave rise a multitude of colors, like the nuances of a kid, only ending in laughter.

Perhaps, when you are more of a light music person, there pops up a certain question as to how, the deafening silence of a new place, calls for some contrasting music tastes, and how what was once, not a favorite, saves you to only leave with you a huge smile. How relative, everything in life is!

The Museum of Fine Arts, turned our work filled day into an evening of fine delight. History and its playfulness with art, how it just transforms from a certain general to a celebrated memory. A moment of absolute fragileness. Why? How? What? Nothing to feed an answer, but fragile; definitely yes. A sense of belonging, like those things decades and centuries old, weren't new. Hilarious and surprising, or so my South American and I thought. Shopping slowly turns a responsible and weekly affair for home. The home that happened. Home which had a surprise; the couch that turns into a very beautifully comfortable bed.

Official confirmation of America's most used words- You're all set.
Say Thank you,  You're all set.
Say you forgot your ticket, You're all set.
Say you need something, You're all set. 

Something as simple as a XO game turns into some major bonding session with these lovelies from around the world.
Puissance 4
Morpion
Chess Chess Caste
Käsekästchen regeln
and some more strange names for this simple game.
What's in a name? A lot of giggling and pronunciation issues. All this in the middle of a weekly research report meet.

A symphony concert at MIT. Now, what happens when you are used to all those magnificent, huge and historic buildings, halls and rooms at Harvard? Anything else, no matter how modern, sleek and fine, seems dull. So did, I apologize, the ambiance in MIT feel. We wondered what we would feel once we were back home. All these tragically funny thoughts evaporated in a thin dust of air, by an interruption.


The interruption?
Rather, a necessity.
Cello,Violin, Heads moving from side to side, the discipline, the grace.
The favorite orange light that highlights and transforms.
How effortlessly and incredibly people are lost in music. Unaffected by all that surrounds them. Unaffected by all that they have to deal with, if not for that moment.



What a gift music is.
What a gift movie is.
What a terrible thing the false fire alarm is.

The second seven days, noons, evenings and nights were, in all its glory, wrapped into these words-

Everything finds its way to you, when you let it. 

© Deekshita 
Reminiscing the moments of 3rd February '17 wherein the edge of the painted diary received a new poem- Chaos, magic, vulnerability. 
21:10 pm, Bangalore
11:40 am, Boston

The week of trading the known for the unknown. #1 of The US of A & I.

It has been a week, since home is Bangalore and not Boston.
The home that always was/is as compared to the home that happened.

The days, noons, evenings and nights spent in that part of the world are too precious to merely hold their memories in photographs and people. It demands to be written about. In every detail, every stranger, every feeble second and every learning that found its way to me.

As the day approached when I finally had to fly away, thousands of miles away, and how? Just the way I always like it; alone. There was a surreal feel of emotions- in all leaps and bounds of fear of the unknown and yet the curiosity of it all. Somewhere above the earth, the sea, the ocean, the food, the time-zones, the air pressure, the tragedy of middle berth, the envy of business class, the flight camera, the freedom that crept into me second by second, the zillion thoughts, the possibilities, the uncertainties accompanied me. As clueless and as mindful as I was.
The past few months, evaporated into a thin air of nothingness, and there was one word, echoing in my head, Thank you.

[Germany]
The first(s) have a certain magic associated with them.
This first European country with the first negative temperatures that I had experienced. In a split second of extremes, I fell in love, for it resonated incredibly with my choices. The tragedy of middle berth again. But peeping through the people to somehow catch a glimpse of the sky was inevitable. The sky, so dear to me, seemed like a whole new world in this part of the globe. The clear blue over the clouds, armies of them, like a gaseous diffuse, yet again, started the muse.

Several hours over different countries, time-zones and moments later, Boston, in the US of A.
Like some sort of agreement, Rain is what welcomed me to Boston. Likewise, rain is what welcomed me to Bangalore, 42 days later. All these theories about how a factor like the geographical location can radiate so much of a difference amazed me. How the skin tearing temperatures could give rise to magical marvels called snow.
The first snow. The magic from the most favorite place.
The lovers from around the world make me feel at home. Further more, it is those things that everyone writes about, conversations, laughter, smiles, cultures and hilarious stereotypes that we learn about.

Like a wonderful form of home sickness, or home remembrance, I fell head over heels in love with home, the home that always was/is. With its plethora of languages, people, music, complexity, chaos, comforts, discomforts and love. In a magnitude like no other, in that majestic library of absolute silence and history attached to it. In the grandeur of Harvard. That day, the word echoing in my head, Theera Ula [Unending wandering, in thoughts, experiences and people].

It seemed as though I was in a movie. With the fact of being in Harvard not sinking in. With the sparrows that compete against the coo-coo of the pedestrians crossing sound. The artist who was always engrossed in his work and who spread happiness through his music at Cambridge. The importance of something as simple as a Coffee, the Filter Coffee I mean. The fragile mind, the notorious mind, that wants both the unknown and the known. The extreme I was in the lukewarm, now turning into the lukewarm I was in the extreme, half way across the world. The things I never cherished, those that were looked at like a marvel in this part of the world. The dusk of the South, the
sun that was strong and the appetite that kept diminishing.

The first seven days, noons, evenings and nights were, in all its glory, an intense metaphor wrapped into these words-

If this is not going to be familiar, can it be whimsical instead?

© Deekshita 
    Celebrating the then of Boston, in the now of Bangalore. 
    20:23 pm, Bangalore.
    10:53 am, Boston.