One Last Look

Friday 26th October 2018

It was time to leave again. It was a short visit for four days to home to resolve an issue.

Taking a break from uni and going back for that short time was just diffcilut because I was used to my routine and breaking it and leaving felt hard because I knew when I would return back to my routine, I would have a hard time adjusting to it again.

Life surely had it’s ways of working.

After those 4 short days, I was going back to university, a life that I was starting to love and enjoy. But right now, I couldn’t savour it because I was leaving my home, my past, my childhood, my memories, my nostalgia, my essence for good.

I was leaving this part of Dubai, Bur Dubai, My home for 18 years and moving into a new unkown tritory somewhere in Dubai, but not that I can call it home.

As I was getting ready to leave the flat, a few minutes before, I went around my small home and gazed and loooked at every nook and corner in every room. I remembered the 17 years of my life, the life that I spent in this building and neighbourhood.

Bitter sweet ones they were.

I smiled, but it was a sad one.

With my bags ready to go back, I stepped out and as soon as the doors shut, that was it. It was the end of an era.

I looked back, wished and dreamed that it was all a bad nightmare. A nightmare that I could wake up from but it just kept going on. It did not stop to comfort me, instead it just moved ahead.

As we got into the car, my mom held my hand. I looked at my building, the streets, the night lights, the shops, the roads and I kept looking back and I did not want to say goodbye. Not yet, probably not ever.

She couldn’t help but hold my hand tight and say that we will be back here for drives and visiting, but we both knew it would never be the same. I looked around the streets again, I  was trying so hard to fit all of it into my brain at one go.

In that moment, I felt that living there my whole life wasn’t enough to capture everything. I needed more of it. I did not want to leave something so comforting and familar, it had it’s flaws and horrible times but it was home.

The home that was there for me throughout my life. It felt too hard to let go.

It felt as if I was slowly letting it all go, forcefully. Someone was taking it away and there was nothing I could do but simply watch as I let it slip through my hands.

 

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It was hard to follow and understand what Robin said, but when I think about it.

It’s true. Sometimes things had to change and I should be greatful that I wasn’t leaving Dubai. I was moving into a new place with new beginnings. That is something to look forward to. More memories.

It was just that small part of my heart I had to say goodbye too. It hurts and breaks every single time, but in time it would be healed and fixed. It would still hurt to think about it but maybe, a bit less than before.

I thank you and love you so much home, for what you have done and taught me. I will always love and remember you.

 

You will always be a part of my eternity.

 

Going back to Airports have always been the worst part of going to Uni. I would like to put this in simple words as possible, IT SIMPLY JUST SUCKS. There is no easy way ever to make this process a less painful one.

I can never get used to it. I would like to say that someday I would hope to change that, but as i keep growing up and with time moving on so fast, it seems to get tougher every time. 

Whilst on the way, I looked at the streets, the lights shined bright but not the type of bright that would make you happy and heart content. It was the type of light that made you remember all the special moments in your life. It was the type of light that remindes you why you fell in love with it the first place. It was the type of light that would make you not want to go back. It captures you and makes you want to see it every single day, for the rest of your life. It traps you in a trance. It’s magic that you never want to let go of.

As I was nearing the destination, I gave the old memory box a quick look and winded it. I replayed each one of those memories. It was nice but felt sad, every single time.

I would not go into the details of the airport check in process because I dislike it immensely but I would give you an insight on how it all went down when I had to say goodbye.

Every time I took a step to leave for the check in, I would go back to return for that one last hug. I did not cry but as soon as I gave that final goodbye, I walked and then came the tears. I did not let them see me cry because I woudln’t want them to cry too. I wanted them to see me happy and content. That’s the least I could give them for being the good parents they are, and I left to return back to my life here, at Nottingham.

 

So that was it

Those four days marked the end of an era

And on the last day, I had my one last look 

 

 

Thoughts in the sky

In the admits of the clouds flying and soaring high amongst different shades of colours. I see all possibilities of a happy time but none can comfort me at this moment.

Right now I am in a moment of nervousness and sadness. Even if it was coming to Dubai for 4 days for an urgent matter, it felt out of place.

I should be happy going back to home for at least a small time shouldn’t I, but then why am I not?

 

The night before the journey

I was afraid to sleep, so I drank a cup of coffee and I usually never drink coffee because I have always found a bitterness to it but now that was what I needed to stay awake throughout the night.

I spent the night watching 3 of my favorite movies and eating snacks.

I took a puff to calm myself down, and it helped for a bit but then I fell back to the same old system again

It took me some time to adjust myself to the routine I made for myself. I was interested to go for my classes this year because I got to choose the modules I wished and wanted.

I was interested because I got into a good volunteering program and it upsets me to know that I won’t be there for the first meeting of the project.

I did not want to leave the life and my friends just for four days that would disrupt my whole life pattern.

I was trying to be happy, going back to my mom, that’s one bonus I am acquiring and her home made food, but I still am not calm about it. I also had the chance to meet two of my best friends after a long time and I got to admit, this was the best highlight.

And I know once I reach, I will find it hard to come back to Uni because that’s just me.

Once I land Dubai, I know it’s going to take everything in me not to fall apart and wish to stay there for as long as possible. I would wish and pray for those 4 days not to end and on the day of departure, I would be a wreck and I need to start adjusting myself again.

This is the process that I hate and absolutely despise.

But I find myself ready to come back to Uni, I am preparing myself.

Not to cry, not to fall apart. That’s the power of home, once you even take a step into it, you are gravitated right into the center and it would take all your wits and mights to break free from the force.

 

 The moment the plane landed in Dubai 

I knew the timer started to set for my return to UK and that’s the hardest part but now I am calm with it

Listening to some good songs helped me out and whilst I am here I am going to try and not focus on that

Uni ain’t that bad and I am finding it really lit and happy this year,  and I can finally call it home because of the place and the people who made it special but, there will always be that but.

 

The day to leave

A few hours left to go.

I am feeling alright, not great but exisiting and being alright.

I am excited to get back to the routine that I have made for myself. I am eager to study, be with my friends, make notes, be in my room and have my alone time.

At the moment, an overwhelming surge of sadness and heart break has taken over me. Leaving my mom and Dubai never became easier.

But this is all for the best.

 

What we go through now, it’s all helping us prepare for a greater change and life. All these emotions, feelings and changes are my lessons. I am trying real hard to be the type of student who learns from it and use it at some point in life. Or just learn and deal with it for the fun of doing it.

– Roshni Marath Jairaj

 

 

Changes

This phrase, everything happens for the best and Change is good. I do not know what to make of it.

What is the protocol here? What is expected of me?

Changes simply kept happening everywhere and I slowly felt myself loosing my grasp on the world I lived in.

 

Incident that took place at August 2018

There was this small yogurt place down in box park, Jumeirah. The last time I had been there was with my family and grandparents. It was a beautiful time indeed.

I wished to go back there again because of box park and that small place amidst the fancy shops, big ship containers designs beautifully and when the night sets in,  beautiful lights surround and create the most magical and beautiful vibe.

My cousins had come to Dubai and we took them around La Mer and box park. It was Dubai’s highlight. Everything about this place had a certain aura and magic to it. Growing up around these streets and witnessing the changes around was one of a kind experience.

So coming back to the yogurt place, to mark the end of my day with my cousins, I wished to go there and have a frozen yogurt, It was always a tradition, whenever we would go there, we would always have that frozen yogurt. Big enough for a family because we weren’t that much of a sweet tooth when it came to things like these but for other desserts, yes.

So, in the hopes and excitement of getting a yogurt, I was filled with emotions and when we reached there, we were unable to find it. I still did not lose hope but it all came crashing down when the security guard over there told us that that place closed down months ago.

At that very moment, my heart dropped into the deepest pit of my body, then it broke into small pieces and was scattered all over into the depths of that pit. It felt as if going into a black void and with no way out to see the surface ever again.

That change, why was that change for the best or for the good? That change was bad. Businesses shutting down, people losing jobs, this country was becoming so costly to live in. The old Dubai essence whizzed away. This was not the Dubai I once grew up in. Certain parts of it still remain the same, but still. Why did that change happen? What good was it?

 

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My home, changed so much and I love it to the best. Leaving it is always was the hard part. When I had to leave my home for uni, that change. It was nice at first but then it took for a worse turn when I got homesick and cried every day. How was that change good or for the best? Probably it was for the best because I was getting a good education and making my life ready.

But what good were the changes at my home? They weren’t great, no one was happy.

 

“People are always telling you that change is a good thing. But all they’re really saying is that something you didn’t want to happen at all… has happened.”

-A quote from the movie you’ve got mail. 

A quote so true.

 

Right now

Change is the only thing that seems to be one of the constants in my life right now. Starting with family, the most fundamental root, I wish I could say everything is for the best and continue to keep the positive facade, but some times it’s not and it worries me sick about the present and the future.

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I worry about changes a lot. I look forward to the good changes in life, don’t we all?

I still can’t place my feelings on how I feel about change. For the worst or for the best? Is change life’s way of spicing up our’s and it’s lives. Is change a living entitiy that is in all our lives and can only thrive like this in every movement of time?

I also find myself changing a bit, it might be a silly or an insigficant change, but it does matter to me. When it comes to us, every single detail matters. It’s like a spider web, you mess with one string, the whole foundation just falls apart.

I had this habit, whenever I missed my mother, I used to play old malaylam songs because it reminded me of her and when she used to sign and hum to the tunes. It was embedded in me since I was a child. And intially when I came to uni, crying my heart out to it was what I did. I always knew what I was getting myself into when the songs came, long hours of crying and pain.

But now, as I play these songs, I do feel myself drown in the sorrow and pain of my mom not being there with me. The pain of being miles apart resurfaces but I once have not cried to it ever since I got back from my vacations. All of you might find this as a small change, but like I said, even the tiniest of change is a huge deal

I also find people changing, for some profounding reason for the good but then there are the basket cases where I have lost hope in.

So far, it has all been good. I am meeting new and amazing people.

As time gets ticking, my future keeps changing as well, every day has it’s own changes. I am anxious but also excited to see what the future has in store for me.

I am happy with some of the changes so far, exciting changes and moments have been happening for one of my best friend and I couldn’t be more happier and proud of her because she has worked so hard and she desreves it. I am happy with some of the changes that have also been happening to me. Through bad times I have learnt in some good lessons and changes.

And just a few minutes back, I have been blessed with the most amazing news for my family. I am not saying anything out loud because I do not want to jinx or anyone to jinx it because there are some people in the world who really would go to all lengths on destroying one’s family and peace of mind.

 

It’s time to end, and here is how I think I am doing

So, I am getting around just fine despite the storm… 

– Roshni Marath Jairaj

 

 

Breathing in.

” Never had I thought that the scents I would breathe in would someday become the dire drug my body needed in order to exist and often be used to rejuvenate myself back to life. This was that drug that needed to be taken in your life quite often to know that good and joy still exists. It’s a holy blessing.”

 

Disclaimer: Experiences might differ from one indivdiual to another

It was a normal day. Nothing ordinary out of the blue was going to make an entrance into my life.

Dad was coming back from Kerala, after his short visit. So the whole morning was dedicated to his coming. Mom finishing all her jobs in a panic and hurry was a sight my heavy heart had to witness every day. This routine was the usual dose a morning in this household could have. So far, no screams had been hurled because it was just the two of us for now.

I took my morning shower and then proceeded to help my mom ease the panic and the tension. So the first task of the day was to put the old newspapers out for recycling.

Taking the papers in my hand, as soon as I stepped out of the flat, the scent of the corridors eased my panic and helped me relax.

I was happy, I was the nostalgia happy.

For a brief moment, a short movie based on my memory of the happy days in Kerala played. The scent of the corridors took me back to the mornings of Kerala, at my mother’s place.

It started with a house beside the lake. Early mornings, I could hear the temple sermons and songs. That was how the small town woke up.

Later in the day, I could hear the birds chirp and that’s how I woke up. The curtains danced along to the wind, the sun rays lighted up the room and the breezy cold wind woke me up. This alarm clock was one of the world’s best invention and creation. It was my secret and also that of the town’s. It was solely ours.

My morning started with the scent of the warm milk my grandmother made for me.

Then later, the house was filled with the scent of flowers especially of Jasmine’s. We had a small garden at the back, so when we left the back doors open, the smell of that small garden and of the green plot would make its way into the house.

Soon, later in the day, my grandmother’s cooking would take up the scent of the air and it was one of the holiest smell I could ever remember.

Then as the morning events proceded, each scent would follow and arise from different tasks.

The washing of clothes and hanging it on the open terrace had a different smell of its own. I loved every aspect of it. Whilst hanging out the clothes on the terrace, I was gifted with the view of seeing my small town at it’s best every day till I left.

We always came during the monsoon reason, so when it rained. It was a bliss and an escape from the summer heat of Dubai.

When it rained, the drops that would hit the green trees, plants and leaves had a very pleasant smell of its own. The earthy smell when the rain poured down is a wonderful feeling and emotion. The raindrops danced on the roof and provided music to everyone’s ears.

Going through the events of the day, different smells and scents would fill up my nose and my mind.

The days of Kerala always carried the best scents and memories.

That was the end of the corridor whiff.

Now as I stepped into the house, another scent masked the house.

The scent of nostalgia masked again, something unexplained. Another array of nostalgic experiences masked me again.

The old memories of Dubai and Kerala, the memories of my family was dug deep from beneath my heart and was played in my mind.

The early mornings of school flashed through my mind, my mom getting ready to come along with me to bid a nice goodbye when I step on to the school bus. Then would come the afternoon where the fresh smell of my mother’s food would mask the entire house.

The afternoon naps, the tutions, the night rides and walks also decided to make its way into the movie being played in my head.

Then the good memories of the weekend also made its entry. Early morning fresh Agarbathi’s lighted by my dad and a nice temple song to wake me up.

It always fascinated me on how certain scents and smells could trigger some of the deepest fresh memories rooted in my mind.

What I have always liked about this entire process and creation was that none of the bad memories and events that took place in my entire life made even the slightest of guest experience in this head of mine when these scents evoked my memories. This was one of those experiences that had pure goodness and only contained happiness in them.

Later then, I would start missing it all but I was happy that I had these to cherish and they were only mine to be. I was happy and grateful that all of it happened.

How can those same whiffs of scents be recreated when I am at a place far far away from the source? How can these scents be recreated? Why do these scents play back those memories? How and why are always the two questions I have and I have never found a clear answer to it till this day.

This intrigues me.

Despite all my doubts and quests for an answer, The world is a wonder and so is the universe and the galaxy.

These are some of the mysterious workings of the world that I like and would always want as my constant wherever my life takes me and at any age.

 

Back to the roots, a celebration.

August 19th, Sunday, 8:53 AM

( PS: Based on true events.

This whole piece was written in a drive to Abu Dhabi in a car, all handwritten. I have modified some of it a bit, but everything in this was written down in the book.

Attached at the end are the pictures of the piece I wrote in my book whilst on the drive. Do pardon me for my handwriting.

Before you all think why I chose the picture above as my feature image, it’s because I really like this picture and well it’s a celebration. I really like the song Hymn For The Weekend and it’s music video. It gave me a very good vibe just like how writing this piece did. So I felt like this captured what I felt during writing. I didn’t want to upload the classic pen and paper as my feature image, thought of doing it a different way. )

 

I have decided to go old school today. Back to the roots of writing. Back to a common man’s tool, the pen and paper.

Being so engrossed with my laptop and keyboard, I have truly forgotten how it feels to hold a pen in my hand and write what flows from my mind into a book filled with blank pages.

This idea quickly sprung upon me when my father decided to take myself and my mom to Abu Dhabi. a 2 hour drive.

Staring out to the buildings, the views of the sand and the watching the buildings rise up to the sky with the sunlight gleaming on them, looking at the whole of skyline in the comforts of my car. Looking at all those above views, I was pretty sure somewhere in my mind, I would be buzzing and itching to write something. I could have noted it all down in the notes section of my phone but I would loose the previlge of writing with a pen in my hand and I would have lost the opportunity to loose myself into the process of writing on this wonderful inspirational drive.

Before embarking on this drive, I was in the comfort of my sofa/bed watching a wonderful heartwarming movie, ” You’ve got mail.” A movie filled with simple yet charmatistic mentalities. Words, humorous personas, encounters and last but not the lease, the profounding quotes spoken by the characters. This played a role behind the inspiration today. ” To go back to the roots. ”

Now, as I am writing, I am in the comfort of the backseat of my car, writing with a pen in my book listenting to the businnes breakfast 103.8 reflecting on my surroundings and everything around me.

If this was my laptop, the grammarly softwarre embedded would have been correcting everything forcing my brain not to even apply the basic rules of grammar, spelling and work into what I write. During this process, my brain is forced but with a gentle push and nudge to apply the basic rules into what I write.

I forgot what this felt like. It is a nice yet overwheming feeling having a pen to pen down all my thoughts into a book. I still could have chosen the later option of noting it down in the notes app but why did I decide to do this? Why in the car whilst going on a drive?

Perhaps I was looking for an inspiration. Probably I needed an execuse to detach myself from my laptop. Maybe I needed this to remind this experience to remind me of the beauties and wonder of the feeling I once had, the feeling of writing using my pen and paper. It felt warm and nice to be reminded of that long last feeling and the joys that it gave me.

As I look out from the small window of the car, I see skycrapers all around me on one side and construction work on the other.  Conversations spark in the car about various topics of disucussion including myself. I sense discomfort in the air and I am quick and wise to go and seek the comfort of my penship because it feels safe.

The world and everything in it is changing.  I feel happy looking at it, my home for 18 years. Then, I feel a trail of sadness looking at it. The thought of leaving it could be the reason. The thought of leaving my family and friends upsets me, but then there is an excitement to return back but also follows the dread of leaving my mom, dad and friends behind. It’s a conflicting feeling.

Changes are different and hard to grasp and believe. Even the slightest move in my world affects me. It’s hard to describe my feelings to to change, that concept is a baffling one for me. It’s for the good and bad, like many of the other things I know. I simply cannot grasp and get hold of how I feel towards it.

To describe how I feel towards it, I have stringed down together a few words that I think could capture my views.

Like the waves of the sea behave, up and down, high and low, strong or mellow;

Like the wind, easy and breezy, cold or warm, harsh or soft, destruction or mellow;

Like that, I change my views and feels to the emodiment of change.

There is another quote as well that reflects a part of what I feel towards change. A quote from the movie You’ve got mail.

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I am glad I took upon the experience of writing this down with my pen in my book. I am happy that I was able to take a quick descison just before leaving for the drive, to take my pen and book. It felt absoultely joyous and warm to head back to the roots, where the process of writing took place.

Once in a while, I think we should all go back to the roots of writing. It gives you a nice sense of feeling.

( PS: Of course however I wish there was a machine that could just copy my writing into what I am writing right now, it’s complicated, because I kind of find it a menace to write the whole thing over in my laptop again but this was worth it. )

My mind and the thought process of it are overflowing with numerous thoughts, but for some reason, I can’t seem to write them down. The irony of it all. I have a pen, I have a book and I have the words. Then why can’t I?

I look outside, the commentary in the radio is interesting but I want my eyes and brain to rest for a while. I look outside and I can myself drown in the drowsiness of my weary and tired self.

I feel like a writer now. A writer in search for words and stories. A writer in touch and connect with one’s self. A writer with a mind keen to write.

This feels like something out of the movies. A movie where a lost writer goes out to a new place in search for inspiration and stories to write or is in search for his lost identitiy or set on a path to discover something.

I am starring in that movie right now, my own life, a movie, but I don’t know what I am searching for. I am on a car ride going to a place, far away from where I live. I am in a car simply enjoying what I am doing right now, writing with a pen in the paper.

Farewell for now.

 

( As promised, here lies the pictures of the piece in the book I have wrote.)