A day old golden sunshine washes my entire room in the late afternoon. i sit here, alone, with my laptop, surfing through other people's work, random music and dark social satire. that's how random and pointless my afternoons are. it is rather dusk now. and among my friends it's famous that i don't do well in the evening. i feel sad. i cry. i howl my sadness out if i am alone. they know, that i like keeping company in the evenings. but very seldom come these gold lit early evenings when(like today) i cancel plans with friends and choose to stay back.to enjoy being the solitary reeper.

i remember that morning when my baba had come to pick me up from the golf garden residence to shift in with him here, at behala. i was so depressed, even the thought of coming to new house without my grandparents was scaring me. and moreover baba, did not know how i have lived, what vegetables i dont like, what i like, that m not fond of fish, that i don't like sleeping early, no one in my family ever did, and so many such things. five years down the  line, today, he still does not know many such things. but somehow, in this apartment, half the size of the house i grew up in, i seem to find that soliloquy that i am about, today. '

this is that same room, that made me feel pukish that morning, it makes me feel at home today. and i have happily rejected an invitation to my previous house. i believe, if it is your house, no one invites you to come down. and if it is your house, you stay back to spend some time with yourself.

i like this chosen solitude. doesn't make me feel lost, rather found, nor ignored, rather self-pampered,