Week 1


I could feel the warmth created by tirelessly sitting on the same spot on the bench, just like everyday. As though this square was identified by shiny bald heads and chalk white beard. I was never much of a talker, instead I would be the spectator to all the chaos and hustle around me. Although I had one friend, who did drag me into his world of coordinated commotion which I managed to escape from by swiftly playing the violin. The soothing tunes flowed out of the violin adding music to the saffron sun setting. As much joy I got in escaping his world, today I wanted to be a part of it. A part of the run down the hypnotising stairs to reach in time for the cockfights, a bet he’d never lose. As the indigo sky transformed into a bluish black, I saw my friend, sparkling in the sky, without the need of the perfect telescope.



Today, 5 years later,Ahmedabad feels like a new city, as if its just born. The sandy gravel grounds have turned into well furnished roads. Modernism hit this place like a storm destroying the traces of nature and maturing it into a city as it subsided. The aroma of the tall luscious trees encompassed my body as I inhaled it. However, now, the vroom of the vehicles and the smack of the machines made me dizzy. Now that it has become a typical city, it doesn’t feel like my city.


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