Sometime during the last week of every month, we are served a special dinner in the hostel. It is 'special' because you have a lavish spread of mutton curry, fried chicken, salad, pulao rice, dal, cold drinks and a desert. For me though, fried chicken is all that remains special.
We had a special dinner tonight, and I came back to the room all bloated. This has more to do with the monthly blues than the food, for I hardly ate much. There was a lady squatting on the floor of a closed room and I went up to her. She seemed like someone's mother to me. An effort to converse with her resulted in an awkward rattle of some unknown language. Therefore, on the basis of sign language I directed her towards my room and asked her to rest on the bed. Minutes passed and she seemed very nervous so I did what I thought was best. I opened my laptop and showed her pictures of back home. I am sure images would serve as a good platform for interaction between two strangers. A series of albums later her daughter knocked at my door. She said she had been looking for her mother outside and was surprised to find her in my room.
This week has seen me rush through my coursework and it was nice to have a refreshing change in the form of this experience. The love I get from family is the only love I need for now. I have a week to go and then a tiny angel will be celebrating her 6th birthday in our arms.
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