danika's digital diaries

Hey there! Hope you’re all doing well. a few weeks ago, I issued a book from our school library– closed casket. I originally thought it was an Agatha Cristie work but quickly found out that it was actually penned by a British author Sophie Hannah. (I’ve only ever heard of Agatha Cristie, never read any of her works. Hence the misunderstanding.) anyway, here is my book review for the same.

  Almost every day for the past 4 years (would have been 8 if not for the gallantry of covid 19), excluding Sundays and holidays, I have gone to the same school and subsequently, the same bus route. Every day I see the paddy fields framing the vast cerulean sky, with its cotton like clouds being reflected on the field, and even though the road is pockmarked with dents, that route has a small part of my heart deep in its clutches. I know, “it’s not that deep” but it’s quite a bittersweet feeling when every day, I have gone about the same path and see new neighbourhoods slowly coming up in place of those familiar fields, I wonder how in a few more years, I might forget the remembrance of it altogether. Memory tends to fade with time and so will this part of my life. And I often dream about the life I have ahead of me, my goals, career, aspirations, the passion projects, the freedom, the…everything! It might be so that I’m heavily influenced by the romanticized versions of colle...

  Oh, how I love winters! The cool breeze in the afternoon, sun’s warmth peeking through. The textured coats and sweaters, with their woolly smell and darkened hues. But it might be not like this for everyone, you see. Everyday on my way home, I see little pups shivering, frost settled deep into their bones, and frustratingly, all I can offer is sympathy. But what about the fresh harvests of seasonal fruits and veggies? When other time will I get to indulge in such fresh fancies! The crunchy apples, guavas and carrots and peas, they wouldn’t taste the same other than in January! And I’m privileged to have a warm home, but through the terrace I see, so many little match girls also on their way to their roadside abode in january. Diwali! The festival of lights. While the glow of lights illuminate the streets, scent of burning diyas and sweets wafting through the neighbourhood boulevards and the other colonies. Floating laughter from the creaks of the doors and the iridescent ...