Outside my Window #WordsMatter

I looked outside my window, the ugly patchwork of brown plaster from the opposite building, stared back at me. Renovation is going on in the opposite building. Just like an old fractured person with a walker, the opposite building is also surrounded and supported by bamboo and iron poles on all three sides. High rise buildings from the next lane play peek-a-boo from behind the fractured building.

I comfortably sit with my cup of Darjeeling tea and laptop on my window seat and start writing this post.

A girl came to the opposite window. She seems to be her early twenties. She is wearing a pink crop top and denim shorts. She has a cigarette in her hand. She came and sat quietly on her window sill and started puffing. I look at her and try to read her mind, what is she probably thinking. Is she thinking about her studies, career, or lover?? Why is it so difficult to read the mind of another person?

A small boy was in another window. I know this boy, he plays with my son. The boy was standing and looking out. Maybe, he was looking out to see if any other boy had come down to play in the park. Small boys have simple thoughts.  Small kids do not have too many things to worry about. They are happy with small things.

A crow was sitting on top of a pipe and trying to tear something. Birds and animals only worry about food and procreation. I was impressed with the perseverance of the crow as it was tenaciously struggling to tear something. I got bored looking at the crow after a few minutes. It was repeating the same act. I peeped into a flat right next to mine. An old lady was watching some Hindi soap opera on a giant screen. She seemed engrossed. Maybe she would learn a few tactics from the opera and apply it on her daughter-in-law.

The girl in shorts finished her cigarette and went inside. She came back after a few seconds. She was now holding a book. I tried to look at the jacket of the book and it looked familiar. Even from a little distance, I could recognize the book from its cover. It was The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. Few quotes from the book started coming back to me.

That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.

Some pains are physical while some churn your heart, your very existence. The kinds of pain that you would love to avoid nevertheless they find a way to destroy your soul. The pains that make you feel guilty and vulnerable. You often try to deny the pain but it chases you demanding to be felt.

Some people don’t understand the promises they’re making when they make them,”

When they break the promise you feel the pain even if you choose not to feel it because “pain demands to be felt”.

You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world,…but you do have some say in who hurts you.” And we often make the wrong choices.

I almost feel like screaming and telling the girl the thoughts I had about the book but I refrain myself. Let her enjoy the book in her own sweet way. Each book appeals to each reader differently. I stopped my mind from wandering and tried to focus on the view outside. It is getting dark. Birds are flying back to their branches, kids are playing and screaming in the park below, lights are switched on.

I am fortunate to have had amazing windows throughout my life. I was born in Sikkim and spent a considerable part of my childhood there. We lived in a wooden cottage and had a big French window. From that window, I could gape at the vast expanse of the Kanchenjunga. If I go to Sikkim now, probably, I would have to pay a hefty hotel tariff for that amazing view however then I had the luxury of admiring it 24/7 free of cost. In the morning just before sunrise, the snow-capped peak of Kanchenjunga used to turn mauve in color, as the sunlight appeared its color turned to various hues of orange and then finally the snow used to shine like gold throughout the day. On a moonlit night, it used to turn bright silver. Before going to bed each night, I used to bid goodbye to Kanchenjunga that stood like a meditating saint, from my window.

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However, Sikkim is a state where it rains intensely almost throughout the year. So many a days Kanchenjunga used to hide behind dense cloud or fog and play hide and seek with me. In those days I used to sit beside my window and look at the rainwater falling on the leaves. There was a small stream next to my house. During the rainy season, it used to swell up like a river. I often sat near my window and watched that stream angrily roaring during monsoon but it flew gently like a new bride during rest of the year. I especially loved watching the snowfall from my window. The snowflakes came down like soft cotton and covered the whole expanse of the small hamlet where I lived. The pine and eucalyptus tree looked as if they were huge ice cones, all covered with snow yet standing tall. The snow always highlighted the conical shapes of those trees.

My tryst with the Himalayan state ended when my Dad was transferred to Kolkata. However, the tryst with window seat continued because in my new house there was an equally interesting window. In the new house, my window was overlooking a huge lake. It was actually a bheri or artificial lake meant for fish cultivation. A part of that lake was used by an amusement park for boat rides and the remaining part was reserved by the government for fishing. The lake was so huge that the other side was not visible and it almost looked like a sea. I was happy to sit next to my window with a book and watch the vast expanse of water. The water also changed colors throughout the day with the movement of the sun. Early in the morning, the lake turned orange and the same hue returned during sunset.

I loved watching the lake during kalboishaki or summer thunderstorm. The small ripples used to turn into violent waves on those days lashing against the banks. The color also used to turn into a gloomy grey. There used to be a certain Tandava or violence in the movement of the water.

The house where I live now doesn’t have such an amazing view. Nevertheless, I love the window seat in this house. My window seat here is a place where I spend a lot of time. As I mostly work from home, my window seat also doubles up as my workstation. This is the place where I sit with my cup of Darjeeling tea and observe Mumbai rains, this is the place where I sit and read a book or just aimlessly look at the crawling traffic beneath. This is the place where I sit and cry when I am sad or talk to a friend over the telephone. This seat is now a part of my life and living. I am thankful for having such an amazing window seat.

Dear Reader, I would like to know about your window. Please let me know. Also, read about what is there outside the window of 47 of my fellow bloggers as we all take part and write at #WordsMatter blog hop hosted by Corinne, Shalini, and Parul. I received this tag from Reema D’souza at The Write World. It’s my pleasure to pass on this tag to Dr.Amrita Basu (Misra) at Health Wealth Bridge. As I already mentioned, there are 47 of us on this Blog Hop and it will be spread over 3 days – 2, 3, 4 August. Do follow the #WordsMatter Blog Hop and prepare to be surprised! 

 

47 thoughts on “Outside my Window #WordsMatter

  1. Anagha Yatin says:

    You delineated fantastic view of your present as well as allowed us a sneak peek into earlier days of your life Balaka. And I must say every view is so full of life!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Shilpa Garg says:

    That gives an interesting glimpse of your present and past world. And your inner thoughts too!! Waking up to the magnificent Kanchenjunga everyday!! Simply wow!!
    In my childhood home, I had a spot near a window where I would study, read, eat (much to mom’s annoyance) or just gaze outside. I had a similar window in our flat in Mumbai as well. Oh, as I am writing this,I am re-living the memories of the past! Thanks for rekindling some beautiful memories through this post of yours, Balaka! ♥

    Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      I am happy to know that my post rekindled your memories. I feel writing is successful when it is cherished collectively. Somewhere all of us are connected through our memories. Thank you so much Shilpa for reading and leaving this beautiful comment❤️❤️

      Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      Windows let us see the world around us. It helps us see outside our claustrophobic existence. A house without a good window is almost a jail. Thanks Ramya for reading.

      Like

  3. Unishta says:

    Delightful Balaka. As usual your words brought a smile of contentment to my face. Indeed having a window to look out from is a blessing…Imagine living in a room without one? I would definitely die of boredom…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. writershilpa says:

    What a beautiful picture you painted, B! Your home in Sikkim, then in Kolkata and now in Mumbai and the scenes you saw outside your fav place–your window seat–told me a lot of stories!
    In every home I lived, I had a balcony where I would sit to gape at the world around, or even to read a book, have my coffee or just daydream. My balcony in every home has been my haven where I would retreat to de-stress or get a break from everyday life.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      I have also lived in houses that had a balcony. In Gangtok we had a verandah. If you go by Mumbai standards then that verandah was of the size of a 1 bhk in Mumbai 😜😜
      My kolkata house had a verandah ..in Mumbai when I lived in New mumbai I had a balcony but this one doesn’t have one. But my window seat is a good place to blog, read, drink tea. Thanks Shilpa for visiting my blog❤️❤️

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Lata Sunil says:

    It was a beautiful read. I feel like going to Sikkim right now. I envy not only your childhood view, but also the tranquil life. It’s something I can only imagine since I always lived in this city.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      Yes, life in Sikkim used to be tranquil but now it is equally crowded so I do not enjoy going there anymore. Mumbai is a hectic city but has a charm of its own. These days honestly I cannot stay away from Mumbai for long. The city has grown on me and I love this city more than any other city that I have ever lived.

      Like

  6. lifewithmypenguin says:

    Your words made me smile Balaka. You made me think if I can really read minds of other members of the home. Later I went hopping from the picturesque Kanchanjanga to Kolkatta to Mumbai with you. Going to re-read your book Golden Rainbow now.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      I have always wanted to read the minds of others, especially strangers. If I ask for any super power then it should be mind reading. Thank you for reading this post and re-reading my book❤️❤️❤️

      Like

  7. Shalzmojo says:

    Wow you have been lucky with the window seats in all of your homes so far. I too love to sit by the window and day dream. In fact whenever I do get to make my dream house, there will be a special edition of the window seat there.

    The picture of the mountains is just gorgeous and you were indeed blessed to be able t o view it daily. Loved your musings as you looked out into other lives Balaka.

    Do share a picture of this window seat next please 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      In my Mumbai house I had space crunch and couldn’t include a balcony but I made sure to make a window with a seat. This place is where I sit and work, eat, drink, read sing😁😁 will share its picture someday. You are an interior designer and am sure you will design a great window for your dream home. All the best ❤️

      Like

  8. Jyothi says:

    Just wow! It is like I was there with you gazing at the Kanchenjunga! I crave for such window views! I grew up in Dubai so all I saw was concrete buildings and shops. I thoroughly enjoyed my vacations in Kerala though. This post reminded me of those days of rain, happiness, and wonderful views!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Keerthi Vydyula says:

    That is a stunning view of Kanchenjunga you have outside your window! I would give away anything for that view. Even after reading your different experience at different houses that you described about, i went back to catch a glimpse of that view.

    Like

  10. Suzy says:

    Enjoyed your journeys through your window. To see the Kanchenjunga is one of my dreams. I gazed at your picture for so long and it felt so peaceful and calm.
    dropping by from the bloghop

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Kala Ravi says:

    Balaka, you’ve been extremely fortunate to have had such a mind-blowing view outside your window at Sikkim. One can pay through the nose and still not get such a view! Loved reading about your musings as you gazed through your windows. The Fault in our stars…hmmm, I find the topic too depressing so I have never attempted reading it. My window now shows me gallons of rain dropping from the heavens above and the ground below seems like a vast muddy swimming pool!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      True Kala, last year when I visited my home town I stayed in a hotel that had no view of the Kanchenjunga. The small hamlet where we lived has now turned into a crowded place with highrises blocking the view. It actually pains me to see the ‘development’ as it has taken away the natural beauty. Thanks Kala for reading.

      Like

  12. Obsessivemom says:

    What a journey you’ve had Balaka! Your post was like a window to your life over the years. I cannot imagine how wonderful it would be to watch snowflakes falling and the view of the majestic Kanchenjunga. I’ve never seen a snowfall. I loved how you tried to imagine what was going through the minds of people you saw through your window. I do the exact same thing.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. the bespectacled mother says:

    Badi hi khidkiyon se bharpoor zindagi rahi hai tumhari 😀
    You have had a blessed life replete with beautiful memories of the views from your windows right from your childhood days in Sikkim to the present days in Mumbai. Waking up to the site of the majestic mountain and the stream is what my dreams are made up of. Is it a coincidence that I have also written about a stream (a river) though I have dreamt it up? At first glance, I felt this to be a long post but when I started reading it, it didn’t feel longish for even once. Your words flowed easily taking me along passing by your windows giving me a happy feeling. Loved every bit of it 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Balaka says:

      Even, I felt it was a long post. I was wondering if anybody would have the patience to read the full post. I am happy that people read it. As you know, I myself hate long posts but this time I am guilty of writing a long post 😦
      bas mood ban gaya tha..likhte gayi…

      Like

    • Balaka says:

      Thanks Corinne. I have been fortunate to have beautiful views outside my windows till the time I shifted to suburban Mumbai. Now, I try to imagine beauty outside my window as the view only has windows of other homes and traffic beneath.

      Like

  14. An@m! says:

    “You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world,…but you do have some say in who hurts you.” This. And yes we make the wrong choices, most of the times. Lovely post penning down your perspective.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Pr@Gun says:

    Loved all your window views, Kanchenjunga to a small lake and then back to Mumbai with so many windows in view where every person is busy in his or her life. Windows are really interesting and you have connected them so well in this post.

    Liked by 1 person

  16. Vinay Leo R. says:

    Nostalgia is something I do associate with windows. My mind right now draws a blank as it scans the memories. But I like this idea of your post. Maybe I’ll draw on it for inspiration and write another later 🙂 I loved your observations of the boy, the girl and the crow.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. nabanita says:

    You know, I grew up in Shillong. We lived in a cottage too and there were so many windows overlooking the valley, the distant mountains. Clouds would sometimes float in through those windows. It was magical. I miss those days because city life, espresso apartment life robs you of that but I still love my window even though it looks over the generator and just a few trees. I loved your post 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  18. Jyoti / www.jyotibabel.com (@JyotiBabel) says:

    Your post made my imagination take a flight! Absolutely stunning view of the snow peak mountains! I have been to Sikkim once and would love to visit again.

    Those quotes from the book stir something inside me. I liked that book quite a lot – and yes true every book speaks to its reader differently.

    So glad to have stopped by through the blog hop. Hugs!

    Liked by 1 person

  19. Vinitha says:

    You have shown such beautiful views of your life from Sikkim to Mumbai in this post, Balaka. Your words flowed so smoothly that my initial ‘long post startle’ disappeared from the word ‘Go’. Thank you for sharing such fabulous views with us, Balaka. your window seat sounds so tempting. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  20. MeenalSonal says:

    These are some unforgettable views from the window. Yes sometimes it is difficult to capture what’s on other’s mind; but I liked the way you narrated the scenes from your angle. And waking up and sleeping in meadows is a blessing. Have a good read of the post Balaka.

    Liked by 1 person

  21. Parul Thakur says:

    I loved how free flowing this post was. I was able to imagine all of those windows that you had in your houses. I would love to have a window facing a snow capped mountain. Papa was not in a transferable job so we stayed in one city but I would love to roam around. I think that’s what i am doing now 🙂
    Thank you Balaka for joining us on #WordsMatter. Lovely to read you!

    Liked by 1 person

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