রান্নাবান্না

My sister is not the best tea maker of the world. But, she can definitely make best out of the situation. Situation is back home, in bangladesh 20 years ago, when we bought tea leaves loose and milk daily. We used to running out of tea ingredients everyday. Less than half cup of milk or just 1 teaspoon of tea leaves was an everyday thing. With some kind of magic she made the tea with same consistency every time in the dented kettle-mug on the gas stove-top.

Static, stoic sunlight was streaming through the vast emptiness around and wreaking havoc in the endless Sahara. Wearing burning blisters like a raincoat, the traveler was running clueless in search of a drop of water in the barren land. But the cup was full of sand.

That eighteen hour long journey chocked me like death! Billions of nightmarish thoughts have been creeping across my heart for the last eighteen hours! Pursuing higher education in an alien country where I have NOBODY was an ignorant, douche-like decision. (Didn’t listen to Mom as I was adult enough to make all the horrible decisions I want).

Free and fierce as a nomad on the Sahara. Careless like a yogi who has chosen exile in the Himalayas. Like a banned bandit wondering in the Andes. Vigorous as the swirling sun in a Van Gogh painting. – That’s how I feel when I cross the line and enter the sanctuary where the universe is regained and aligned, free from frail & feeble beings, where every particle preaches LOVE.