#pnpc

Cyberpunk 2077 | Photomode 83 / ∞

Cyberpunk 2077 | Photomode 106 / ∞

Cyberpunk 2077 | Photomode 107 / ∞

These titles are getting so long :')... My memory is already poor. This one seems interesting. Normally, with the Unlimited Flow novels I read the characters gets a task and just do their thing. There was a novel where they sometimes get an instance where they had to act according to their given role. If they didn't, the system would warn them. But in this one, every instance is an acting instance and if they get discovered by the NPC, they would get marked and most likely die that night :').

I woke up this morning with a full heart. The colours on the leaves are transitioning all around me from the summer green to a bright amber and a vibrant red. Autumn is beautiful in Canada, and even though it is the messenger for the onset of winter, Autumn is still loved and cherished, especially so by Bengalis around the world. Growing up outside of Bengal, I never got a vacation during this time of the year-long enough to make the 36-hour long journey by train to Bengal and so, my family never got to celebrate the much awaited ‘Durga Puja’ in Kolkata. The city lovingly called ‘The city of joy’ is more joyful than usual during these festivities. The Memories I often read and heard are about visiting the various pandals all night long, spending time with family, catching up with friends, flirting and the beginnings of budding love, latest fashion trends and of course the delicious, mouthwatering, coma-inducing spread of food. Unfortunately, I never had these memories, and I never felt my heart flutter in anticipation of Pujo, until now.

Last night was offbeat. It reminded me off a few beautiful moments in my life. It reminded me of when as a little girl I sneaked out with my friends to a corner of the nearby park which we called our place and talked about our little troubles. Neither the scorching sun nor the intense rain bothered us. We had an oasis that we cherished and treasured. We shared silly stories and laughed at stupid jokes. It reminded me of my girlfriends from college. The night before the final chemistry exam, my best friend and I stayed up until 5 AM talking about god-knows-what and almost flunked the test. This incident happened seventeen years ago, and we still think of it fondly every time we meet. I believe our friendship was elevated to a whole new level that night.

Last night reminded me of the early days of my career when my monthly salary barely lasted five days and in those five days, away from home and lacking nutritious food; we hunted for places that offered to satiate our cravings without digging a hole through our wallets. There was a restaurant called Annapurna in Chennai which was on the other side of town and getting there took us a good hour or two, but it promised a Bengali fare, and so we went. The queue was long, and we waited impatiently but when that glorified plate of steaming hot white rice garnished with single green chilli with an accompaniment of medium-sized bowls filled with delicacies made of fish and meat was served in front of us, our worries for food for the rest of the month did not matter. That one meal and the commute to get to it, however, lightened our wallets incredibly and so for the better part of the month my roommates huddled around in a circle and ate steaming hot Maggi from a big bowl. This morning as I think about it I can’t recall which meal was more memorable, but where one offered delectable food, the other offered delightful memories.

Talking of memories, these past two months have been a whirlwind of rehearsals. I don’t think I ever heard as many Bengali songs or Bengali humour as I did during this time. The thing about rehearsals is that you make friends. You dance together, correcting each other’s flaws, learning from them and about them, you encounter hilarious moments which become anecdotes for a dinner party. You laugh together, get mad at each other, feel the pain and pleasure of dancing together and in the process, you make friends. The last time I rehearsed as much and had so much fun was in high school as we prepped and planned for the Ganapati celebrations. Days in school seemed never-ending as we awaited the end of the day bell so we could hurry back home and meet our friends for rehearsals. My mom mentioned this the other day as we were heading out to the rehearsals, “why do you need so much practice for a three-minute performance?” Where the audience watches a three-minute performance, the performers spend months perfecting it. And so as the day arrived closer, the activities became more and more frenzied, and in those moments, I finally started to feel the anticipation and flutter in my tummy.

Read the other part of this Duolog(ue).

Fake Guns, Potka Competition, Bird Watching