Week 1

 

ISIDORIAN 

When my cold feet with wrinkles touches the rough ground which is known for fulfilling dreams and when my bent back touches the wooden bench at the square is when i relive my memories.The fingers of my right hand craves to rest on the strings and make some movement up and down but my shivering becomes my hurdle. When i won the award for the best violin player and gave autographs, i felt like i have everything and i was loved by everyone. But who knew my disability would overshadow my talent and make me zero from a hero in a minute. My world had shattered. As the violin left me, people too left with it. I am so self consumed by my own emotions that i cannot see happiness anywhere. Even though, people remember me, they remember me for my failure and not for my success.

Moving on, when the youngsters pass by, giggling and gossiping and when the foreigner with two beautiful ladies who don’t understand each other’s language but yet enjoy their company makes me miss the young part of me. I miss going out with my friends and betting on cockfights and quarrelling and flirting with girls. The money that i used to win from the betting, i would take girls for a date. I wish i would have taken my relationships with people more seriously than my success then it would have helped me to sustain today.

Even though this land fulfilled my dream for sometime but it never gave me true love and taught me nothing lasts forever.

 

ANCESTOR’S HOME

As time passes by, a small village “Sanchore” in Rajasthan experiences many changes. Whether it is from houses with low roofs and only one room to big bungalows with several rooms or from rocky lanes to proper roads. But one thing that is constant among all of this is the heart of people. Everyone out there are so welcoming and if you go to anyone’s house and if they don’t offer you “chai,” you’re probably not in Sanchore then. The houses might appear depressed from outside but when you walk in, its filled with happiness. Kids are always waiting for the clock to struck 4, so that a cart arrives and rings the bell and they could grab their Kulfi. Not only kids, the adults too. Furthermore, the narrow lanes which are somehow always surrounded by lusty mosquitoes are connecting people which today forms one big community. In addition, it feels like everyone is staying under a big roof since people are so attached and associated with each other. Though i don’t go very often, it still feels like home.

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