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@bisilukolu

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I was traveling back from Shillong to Nongstoin and got to witness this very famous fishing competition.
It was unusually hot in Shillong. El nino and whatnot. It started raining when we reached Ksehkohlong. What beautiful places and what a beautiful season. Monsoon in khasi hills is windows wallpaper.
I got to witness this competition last year on my way back to Ampati. What a coincidence to witness this again.
He got so bored and dozed off.
And they keep coming.
All are coming out, cuz monsoon is here.

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I don't like cats, but I am living with seven of them in my premises.
Domsaw, a lovely place.
Hills are breathing. Green grass is thriving. Monsoon is my favourite season, no doubt.
I suck at prioritising people in my life. I take the people who love me for granted and treat them in a way which I myself hate, without even realising. I got a call from a loved one to ask a doubt regarding something I started and I yelled without thinking. I am so ashamed. The worst part is I have immense patience for people who don't care for me, ill treat me, take advantage of me and dump me after their work is done. I receive their calls and sweet-talk to them. I am so polite and go out of my way to help them when I already know they are shitty people.
I am the worst.
I am home. Home home. It's 12 noon and what all I had after getting up?!
One cup of chai, strong and not very milky. Half a dozen idli with chicken curry and coconut chutney. Two alu bonda with matar masala and chutney. One piece of sweet dish called saati which I have not come across in any other place. One nandini sweet lassi. Sweet and salty lemon juice.
Now waiting
for lunch. Ganji, the best food. Fish curry. Fish fry. Dry fish chutney. Beans palya. Mango sasikai. Mango pickle. Fresh juicy mangoes. Mallika and other variety mangoes.
for 4pm chai. Misal bhaji. Khaara. Toast. Egg puffs. Banana chips. Bundi laddu. A cup of hot kashaya.
for dinner. My favourite. Prawns biryani. Prawns masala fry. And everything that is leftover.

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It's spring. We are going all out.
I receive berries from kind colleagues. Tofu hides behind the grass. The plants bloom. Dead grass is alive. Bugs come out on the road. The colours are colouring.
Spring is the season. I can't wait for summer. I am a summer child. I thrive in the heat.
I have gone silent. I suffer alright, but I don't document. I don't want to leave behind the trail of my lowlife - utterly petty, increasingly jealous, and deeply insecure. I have a decent life. If I am not satisfied by that, I can't save myself out of this misery. I don't have words.
I had lost my voice for a few days.
My body gives up in so many ways.
I had hit a few personal and professional milestones in the past months if we can call that. But I could not celebrate even in a small way. I felt exhausted. There's no substitute for this tireless work to get certain things done, when one doesn't come from privilege. No accomplishment can feel enough. No success gets self acknowledged. One has to work nonstop and wear out emotionally to reach anywhere near normalcy.
I was forced to purchase two beautiful sarees at Kolkata airport during layover. I got them without any willingness and didn't feel like I deserved any of such things.
This job. Endless. Thankless.

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Beautiful stay. Just that I had to attend 12 hours long sessions for work and came to the cottage at midnight to crash.
In winter, I forget summer.