Slow life
Have you ever sat nestled tight with just a book in your hands, lost in a farmer’s market in a remote community hall of a large cosmopolitan city? I was sitting on a train when I had this feeling, thinking about how awesome the display at the market was and how happy I felt knowing that the farmers had a good harvest this season, all because of the heavy rainfall this year. Soon I realized, I have never been to a farmer’s market in Japan, hell I have never even been to Japan, I don’t know how much it rained there, or whether this even is the time for a good harvest, I was just sitting on a train in a land far away, where the climate is in fact tremendously different from that of Japan’s. People around me were rushing to get off at their station, from where they would probably take an auto, or if lucky, walk to their house and later sit with a cup of tea in front of the TV at the end of the day. I wasn’t as lucky that day, I was returning to my college from home, and had to board another train and then yet another one to reach the destination. The thing is, it has been raining a lot here this year, probably the most rain this land has seen in the last four-five years. I was definitely earlier some day thinking how good this must be for the farmers, and I believe this was the reason I was happy for the farmers at the farmer’s market which was very briefly mentioned in the book that I was reading. The book is settled at a community center library in Tokyo, and five local people who found what they were looking for, right in the library. My boyfriend suggested me this book, and every time I read a chapter, life moves slow, I feel the lazy breeze of a summer evening, one when I used to cycle down the lanes near my house, in a baggy frock, getting items from the store for my mother.
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The plants on my windowsill have started to grow, which is a relief as I was scared from the dull look they had ever since I had repotted them. I have tried to make this place feel like home, just enough cozy for me to want to live here, and also get my work done in the time I have, but I still feel as if I do not belong here. I fear that I will never feel that way about a place, feel at home. Is it the place that makes one feel at home? or the people they live with? I go to many interesting classes here, I go to a few football practice sessions, read a lot of really cool books, and find joy in the moments, still something doesn’t feel alright, I am left thinking maybe this is not where I am supposed to be right now, or maybe not where I want to be.
This one was less of a blog and more like a diary entry which I feel like I am writing to leave in the open, for a silent audience, if there is any. I wrote a bunch of tests this week, and the more important exams begin next week, and I can’t wait to feel lazy after all of it ends when I have a lot of free time, not knowing what to do with it.
