Like a sunflower

Life is strange. No, not the game, but like real life, the one you and I find ourselves in. It’s a see-saw, nay, a roller-coaster, and okay, you could call it a game, except you’re not the one with the controller. I was in India, not even a month ago, more like 23 days ago. Now I’m on another continent, 5000 miles away NOT EVEN USING THE METRIC SYSTEM (Miles, pfft).

What have you done, Cee?

The first two weeks flew by in a sort of daze. There was a lot of packing, unpacking, dragging of suitcases through the streets of New York (it’s about as much fun as learning the name of a GoT character only to have them killed), getting to know the lay of the land, running for groceries and then getting back home to a dark apartment haunted by its very own resident ghost (Why the hell can’t the ghost have been Casper?) Once the jet lag had been overcome and I had finally moved in, the parties were over and I had a few seconds to breathe, I found that I had my breath knocked out of me with the force of a few Gs, because it had finally hit me how far away from home I was. To be fair though, it may have had something to do with being launched like 6-7 feet up in the air and landing stomach first into water as a part of our school’s outdoor experience (don’t worry, Mum, I had my life jacket on the whole time), but then that wouldn’t really be too philosophical now, would it?

Home, to me, atleast has never been a place; it’s always been a familiar face in the crowd, the smell of Mum’s chicken curry, mangoes and Sugar’s bath shampoo ( hey, we all have our quirks). So, I don’t think I can really truly comprehend this “missing home thing” (yeah brain, stay silent) but yes, Mum’s hot, spicy chicken curry with rice would be ideal right now.

Interestingly, today I found myself in a field of yellow flowers that looked like sunflowers (they were yellow and sunny and look at the photo dammit) -a small bunch of beautiful, exotic flowers, glowing golden with the rays of the setting sun. I was listening to my old school Grunge playlist on Spotify and Chris Cornell’s voice was wooing me from across the void. The mess in my head didn’t seem to be making an iota of difference to these flowers; indeed it felt like they were mocking me for being caught up in my own bubble when clearly there was a whole world out there trying to reach out to me. Like in the world of art, the right perspective can be your elixir. So sway like the flowers in the breeze and tread on because tomorrow is guaranteed to be better than yesterday was (it’s a working hypothesis).

 

 

It really was a pretty day.

 

P.S. To my 2 readers out there, this reads more like a journal entry. I’m trying to write more often and this was me regurgitating all the thoughts up in my head. My next few posts will not be dreary and I guarantee to include aspects of my life at Cornell in it.