English language

In scorching heat of summers, auto rickshaw driver was even more intolerable. Paving his path slowly and steadily, it used to take him forty five minutes to cover ten miles. and i used to imitate my English teacher, opening up my course book rhyming in a loud tone. Sometimes found the words too tough to grasp, and many times just skipping it ignoring the fact of my poor vocabulary.

Those were the momentous times when i used to adore this language english more than anything else on this diversified world. Imitating my English teacher, hoping that one day i would be able to speak in such a lucid manner. Repeating it for hours, imagining how life would be conversing with each other in English language. I used to imagine that even sobering in front of class, mumbling bad words in English felt so good. Ask for anything, may it be for lunch or for an extra pile of bread; this world seemed perfect to me painted in English. Such was the euphoria for this language, tried many times to understand some English song but failed (I never pushed too hard to get the lyrics might be the reason). My crush for this language went berserk in 8th grade, when my English teacher came and his grammatically pure english made him my role model. Eyes twinkled to see him talking in english, it felt this person had the pleasure of life in his tales of English novels and books.

The college came and gave me the much awaited chance and the exotic platform to connect to fellow bloggers, explore this outer world through the medium, best suited for me . I felt envious reading and learning their heart-throbbing skills of written English, which still continues even till now; I do feel that magical touch in blogs. I read every line and try to conceive the revolving, ever changing meanings of words in numerous ways. Alas !! the craze has diminished; since talking and writing all day in this once-a-dream language has taken apart that feeling which nurtured for so many years reading one of the best phrases ever written in English. One may like or doesn't like my posts, unmoved from all the critics, I enjoy reading and writing (and now of course conversing) in this language.

English language

In scorching heat of summers, auto rickshaw driver was even more intolerable. Paving his path slowly and steadily, it used to take him forty five minutes to cover ten miles. and i used to imitate my English teacher, opening up my course book rhyming in a loud tone. Sometimes found the words too tough to grasp, and many times just skipping it ignoring the fact of my poor vocabulary.

Those were the momentous times when i used to adore this language english more than anything else on this diversified world. Imitating my English teacher, hoping that one day i would be able to speak in such a lucid manner. Repeating it for hours, imagining how life would be conversing with each other in English language. I used to imagine that even sobering in front of class, mumbling bad words in English felt so good. Ask for anything, may it be for lunch or for an extra pile of bread; this world seemed perfect to me painted in English. Such was the euphoria for this language, tried many times to understand some English song but failed (I never pushed too hard to get the lyrics might be the reason). My crush for this language went berserk in 8th grade, when my English teacher came and his grammatically pure english made him my role model. Eyes twinkled to see him talking in english, it felt this person had the pleasure of life in his tales of English novels and books.

The college came and gave me the much awaited chance and the exotic platform to connect to fellow bloggers, explore this outer world through the medium, best suited for me . I felt envious reading and learning their heart-throbbing skills of written English, which still continues even till now; I do feel that magical touch in blogs. I read every line and try to conceive the revolving, ever changing meanings of words in numerous ways. Alas !! the craze has diminished; since talking and writing all day in this once-a-dream language has taken apart that feeling which nurtured for so many years reading one of the best phrases ever written in English. One may like or doesn't like my posts, unmoved from all the critics, I enjoy reading and writing (and now of course conversing) in this language.

the awakening dream..

I called my younger brother in a huskiness tone to put the cycle off the stand, so that we can go to temple. In the meantime, i put those two small aluminum wrapped paranthas in my jeans pockets and started running towards the outer gate. The weather couldn't be better, with minute particles of dust dancing in the settling light of sun, eyes trying to focus on ground envying the brightness of sun. Same street patterned in most haphazard manner with bricks pointing out of the plane, yet the tires of the cycle refrain ourselves from the bumps. I had already put enough food in my pockets yet was little gleeful about the hanging packet with some sweets over the handle of cycle. I never wanted to eat more pizzas, vegetable rice had replaced water from its place (consuming more rice than water in a day); never wanted to get away with chance of eating home cooked food.

Driving through the mud slopes of open road, noise of peddles tearing the greased hook of chain and we reached the temple. It felt god has given me one more chance to cherish these wonderful summers of my childhood. Watching the water pumping out from the big nozzle of tap, reserved in a pond and it was more clear and serene than my soul ever was. Dipping my feet into the pond brought respite to my scratched mind, much required at the moment. Even the water felt so sweet, much sweeter than what i used there in a far-away land. In short, I was lucky to be home from thousand miles of strange world. It was getting dark, yet the path was same upon which i had traversed for millions of time. Splashing water with my feet felt much better than those ruffled feet in white snow. Eyes were sparkling with those few lamp shades hanging outside the houses, could hear the cries of infants asking for food, smoke coming out of the chimneys in kitchen making my eyes sparkle even more, thinking about the days where this smoke was hard to see after eating dozens of plates of burgers.

I missed these long prayers, which i heard early in morning. Cushioning the pillow over the face to avoid the voices made me think of the days where there was no one to fulfill my longings to hear some unwanted voices. Alarms were ringing, could hear the chatters of my cousins getting ready for school, milkman banging the door despite telling him the door-bell hanging on the right side. Life was getting back to normal, and i got up. Looking out of the window, through the white lifeless snow made me realized, it was just a dream !!!

the awakening dream..

I called my younger brother in a huskiness tone to put the cycle off the stand, so that we can go to temple. In the meantime, i put those two small aluminum wrapped paranthas in my jeans pockets and started running towards the outer gate. The weather couldn't be better, with minute particles of dust dancing in the settling light of sun, eyes trying to focus on ground envying the brightness of sun. Same street patterned in most haphazard manner with bricks pointing out of the plane, yet the tires of the cycle refrain ourselves from the bumps. I had already put enough food in my pockets yet was little gleeful about the hanging packet with some sweets over the handle of cycle. I never wanted to eat more pizzas, vegetable rice had replaced water from its place (consuming more rice than water in a day); never wanted to get away with chance of eating home cooked food.

Driving through the mud slopes of open road, noise of peddles tearing the greased hook of chain and we reached the temple. It felt god has given me one more chance to cherish these wonderful summers of my childhood. Watching the water pumping out from the big nozzle of tap, reserved in a pond and it was more clear and serene than my soul ever was. Dipping my feet into the pond brought respite to my scratched mind, much required at the moment. Even the water felt so sweet, much sweeter than what i used there in a far-away land. In short, I was lucky to be home from thousand miles of strange world. It was getting dark, yet the path was same upon which i had traversed for millions of time. Splashing water with my feet felt much better than those ruffled feet in white snow. Eyes were sparkling with those few lamp shades hanging outside the houses, could hear the cries of infants asking for food, smoke coming out of the chimneys in kitchen making my eyes sparkle even more, thinking about the days where this smoke was hard to see after eating dozens of plates of burgers.

I missed these long prayers, which i heard early in morning. Cushioning the pillow over the face to avoid the voices made me think of the days where there was no one to fulfill my longings to hear some unwanted voices. Alarms were ringing, could hear the chatters of my cousins getting ready for school, milkman banging the door despite telling him the door-bell hanging on the right side. Life was getting back to normal, and i got up. Looking out of the window, through the white lifeless snow made me realized, it was just a dream !!!