#dss2k23

" keep your heart warm, No matter how cold they have been to you " -kavya dixit

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year @kitabi-keeda, sending you virtual hot chocolate and a song

Whenever I cry at the absence of love. I go to my backyard and sit on the swing. The same swing that my father loves. I look around and see tall trees, All stand tall as the evidence that there was love and care and nourishment. I see my neighborhood couple sitting on the bench, Her head resting on his shoulder as they talk about their days. I see clothes hanging, Woven with threads of love. I sit there with full belly because my mother cooked with so much. I am full because she made sure I ate enough of my favorite food. I wear my mother's ring and my father's t-shirt and my brother's bracelet. Everything reminds me of love. I am here because my ancestors loved and protected. I was born because of love. I was born to love. I was born to be loved. There was love before me. There will be love after me. There is love everywhere. River flows, birds chirp, Morning comes, people work, in the evening Sky is painted with pastels, Birds return to their nests. At nightfall there are streetlights, There is science because of love. People create for love; People create for the people they love. There is something like soulmates because there is love. There are best friends to love. People grow forests, walk across countries, find cures, cook, sing, dance, die, birth, weave, grow, heal, break All because of love. All for love. If only I were great enough to write a poetry on love, But love is poetry in its very existence.

" HERE"

I feel defeated and tired as I sit on the swing in my backyard in the dark.

Around me, are these tall trees and small plants,Very little stars in the sky,No moon in my sight.As if everything has an agreement of fatigue

.Flute playing from my phone makes me smile a little,Thinking that someone dedicated so much of their time and effort and love into this artwork.How they poured their heart and soul is just evident.

Chirping of cricket confronts me calmly,As if asking my well being.

Wind bustling through leaves,Flowing through my hair;Like a hand of assurance on my shoulder

.Squeaking of insects and croaking of birds tell me everything is going to be okay.

I will be okay, maybe not now, maybe tomorrow.I knew I was going to be okay.Everybody agreed.

Even regulus in the sky.Even though it seems lonely and soft.

But I am here.

Christmas surprise for @bandarrrrr

Hope you like these poems....

Here's your desiblr secret santa gift, I hope you like it<33

"No I have never been happier than when I was with him

No, he is not real

He visited me in the night while I slept

He came to me in a dream

My head was on his lap

I watched his lips as he spoke

He watched mine as I laughed

He pulled me up to dance in my room to no music

I pulled him into a hug

I could hear his heart beating, my head against his chest

We laughed

I pulled him down onto the bed

I lay above him

I looked into his eyes

He looked into mine

No, I have never been happier than when I was with him

No, he is not real."

Merry Christmas!

Hi Aki (I hope it’s ok to call you that). My name is Roop.

I must say this was a little tough because the last three months have been different for everyone but I hope you like the playlist. Sorry if it gets a little existential, I tend to see the end of the year as a time for reflection :)

hi, radha! i'm your secret santa. i stalked your blog quite a bit, and the vibe of your blog made me feel that you would enjoy hindi songs more than english ones, so the whole playlist has hindi songs only. lmk if you want english songs, i'll try to add some english songs! the playlist is 2 hrs 45 mins long, enough to last one study sesh hehe. since the prompt was old songs, i tried to add a variety from various decades. here's your playlist:

Merry likhne gye the but ab Shaadi karlo Christmas se

Tinga linga ping Surprise karna tha... So here's my attempt at it. Ab surprise hai ya shock that's for you decide. I'll be taking off right about to escape that flying chhapal of yours though.

Prompt : recipe of the Secret Santa's (aka your) favorite sweet

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খির কদম

Durga Puja had just begun in Kolkata. Orhaan skipped back home from school, gawking at the durgo pandals being set up. He had stopped at Kaka's store to pick up some khoya. Kaka's wife had lovingly fed him a peda and wished him a happy Durga puja. This is what he loved about the festival. The joy in the city, the colourful pandals, the abundance of sweets, the loudness of the festivities. Oh, but what he looked forward to the most was the Kheer Kadam his mother made. Making the dessert was a strenuously long process and that was why it was made in the house annually on the occasion of Durga Puja.

He sprinted a little on nearing his home, haphazardly took off his shoes and ran inside the house as he sniffed the aroma of the chashni cooling in the kitchen. The Roshogollas were already made. He handed the khoya to his mother and ran to the gorge on a Roshogolla while his mother chided him for eating without washing his hands. After quickly changing, he ran back to the kitchen to gobble one of the chenna balls soaked in chashni directly from the bowl, earning a glare from his mother for it.

His mother had begun to roast the khoya and was grating half a coconut on the side counter. Orhaan begged his mother to let him grate the coconut but his mother shooed him, said he was too young a child to be able to grate. What if he cut his finger? What if he had none left to eat the Kheer Kadam? The thought was enough for him to remain mum and listen to her. The coconut crinkled as it's moisture evaporated on mixing with the roasted khoya, leaving behind a pleasant scent in the house. After adding in the powdered cardamom, the dough was kneaded and made Into little balls which Orhaan helped in flattening out. The Roshogollas were wrapped with the khoya dough, and then rolled in powdered sugar and grated coconut. The plate of sugar coated Kheer Kadam was popped into the refrigerator to be chilled for an hour. Now this was the hardest part. The waiting.

His mother had handed him a glass of saffron tinted badam milk and they'd spoken about how his day at school had gone by, what they were going to do for the rest of the vacation, which was the grandest pandal they'd come across and when they were going to visit Chacha's house. And before he realised, the hour had gone by. He jumped in an unsuccessful attempt to suppress his taste buds as his mother carefully removed the plate from the refrigerator. She fed him the Kheer Kadam which he gobbled whole to keep the chashni from dripping. His antics had made his mother giggle and kiss him on the forehead. "Shubo Durga Puja babu".

It had been many years since then, and many more Kheer Kadams since that one. Orhaan was returning home after a year. It was Durga puja again, and his mother was making Kheer Kadam. Again. He'd insisted she make the dessert with him and that he would bring the khoya himself, just like the old times. He stepped inside the house to the familiar scent. His mother hugged him as he hugged her back after placing the khoya next to the chashni soaked chenna balls. He chuckled. She'd already made the Roshogollas, just like she always had. This time he grated the coconut himself while she sautéed the khoya in the pan. He looked at her adoringly as she wrapped the Kheer Kadams. He still loved everything about Durga Puja that he did as a child. The joy in the city, the colourful pandals, the abundance of sweets, the loudness of the festivities. He still loved the Kheer Kadam. But what he looked forward to the most now was that hour long conversation he had with her over a glass of Badam milk. This time he had much more than a day's talk to catch upto. They spoke about his hostel, his education, the life plans ahead and eventually diverted back to what they'd do for the rest of the festival, the list of pandals to hop to and the other developments in the city since he'd been away.

An hour clocked and Orhaan and his mother pulled out the plate of Kheer Kadams. She fed him the sweet which he ate whole just as eagerly as when he was a child. A lot had changed since, yet a lot had remained the same.

"Shubo Durga Puja babu" she said as she kissed him tenderly on his forehead.

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The recipe in short ;)