The lights and sounds were never ceasing, pulsing to each of their own rhythms, creating one large masterpiece that may sound like a mix of just miscellaneous noises, but to anyone who truly appreciated human nature, would sound like a composition done by Mozart or Bach themselves. I wanted to twirl in the middle of it all. Dance and jump, skip to my own heartbeat. It made my blood pump faster just looking at the buzz of it all. The zing in the atmosphere never seemed to have an end.
My father and my brother decided to take a little detour and find some fruit and flowers. The flowers, specifically jasmine, are for my mom, my sister, and I to wear in our hair. I still have to figure out the reason for that in our religion so I’ll definitely get back to you guys on that. Sorry for leaving you hanging. My mom, pushing my little sister’s stroller spotted a little shop that was selling bangles and other types of Indian style jewelry, as well as pottus. And if you don’t know what those are, they are basically these dots that women wear on their foreheads. I’m sure you already know what I am getting at here, but my mom always tells me( every time I ask )that the reason it should be placed on our foreheads is because the space between our eyebrows is basically a pressure point for your entire face. I still am doing my own little research on the science behind that so I’ll get back to you guys on that too.
Anyway, my mom said that I can pick three packs of whichever ones I liked, and I honestly didn’t know what to choose. It was a whole wall of little white plastic packages, each sporting their different version or variety of the little trademark dots. I finally decided on these little ones that were all different pale, pastel colors. Thinking I could use them for Halloween or something. I also got a plain regular set, which is basically just the regular old maroon on black, felt circle sticker. My mom already had made her selections so she moved on to the massive crates of glass bangles. A young man and a woman were helping her too. So I followed suit.
I admit, It was kind of awkward when they all turned to me expectantly with these knowing looks in their eyes. I guess they might’ve thought I was the flamboyant type of girl who would be fine flaunting a chunk of glass with glitter on it. They presented me with a white, plastic basket with a spread of colorful glittering bangles that I knew i would be able to break just by looking at them. They were really pretty and looked even more delicate with the shop lights shining on the ceiling opposite of us, making the glitter pop and really catch your attention. But I took a long shot and slowing walked to the spread my mom was looking at before I came along. The shopkeepers asked what colors I like and obviously I said green and blue. They each came up to me with at least a dozen different bangles with various hues of greens and blues. Cerulean, turquoise, I decided on a simple set of bangles that was a mix of both colors. My mom chose a deep red.
We made our purchases and thanked the kindly shopkeepers, turning our bodies back towards the street. My dad and my brother were waiting, my father had a green plastic bag in hand pluming with flowers and fruit to my delight. We decided to walk back to the apartment before it got to late out. But my dad picked up some Idlys for Jagan Mama since we had already eaten at the temple. Plus Bala thatha said he wanted to meet up with us back at the apartment anyway so we kinda had to get a move on.
Singapore was still lively as ever, even late into the night. A spark was lit at Evey part, every corner, ever edge you could see. Everything was so alive. It tingled and pulsed, a slight breeze even. Something rare in Singapore in my opinion. Goosebumps were sent across my skin from each shallow gust. The scene itself reminded me of a song I listen to a lot. The lyrics ran through my head as we all walked along, my sister in my mother’s arms. My brother in step with my father. The song absconded in my mind with each step I took. It happens all the time every time I’m truly absorbed into my surroundings; My conscious is singing, belting out the lyrics. And it’s especially hard to keep quiet. My head started to play the song, the rhythm in time with my steps.
We reached the apartment, and got into the lift, it felt warm and the air was moist compared to fresh air from outside. My thighs felt sticky with sweat and my pores were basically water bending. Luckily we had already gotten to our floor before I could even finish my thought.
Bala thatha and my parents made small talk while I sat there listening, of course, my brother was playing some game on my dad’s tablet, as per usual. I grabbed my tablet and put it into the charger that was set up on the little black nightstand. My little sister had fallen asleep so I had to make sure she didn’t roll of the little bed. Plus, from personal experience, I didn’t want her to get traumatized by falling of the bed and then ending up face to face with the cob web infested area underneath the bed. And that’s probably one of the reasons why I am absolutely terrified by spiders.
Seeing that I didn’t want my little sister to develop of prevalent phobia at a young age, I grabbed two pillows and stuffed them on either side of my little sister, and maneuvered myself into a sitting position against the headboard so I could keep and eye on the miniature human sleeping beside me. But I have to tell you, to me her facial features are so perfect and proportional I might as well call her a dryad or a nymph.
Ever since we landed in Singapore, Bala Thatha had found so many ways just to be together with us, and support us too. Without him who would’ve picked us up from the airport? Who would always rise to the occasion whenever an opportunity rose to see us? Every time I locked eyes with him, he would always have that amiable smile to greet me. And you know what?
His eyes smile too.
He was one of the first people who helped me rise up when I was hesitant in my first few entries on this blog. I mean I went from two to three paragraph posts to writing prolonged essays basically. Him, my dad, Babu Peryiappa, and Ganesan Mama. Without those four people guiding me two years before, I wouldn’t be writing here, I wouldn’t have the motivation to spark ideas. And of course all my family and those friends that stuck with me all the way.
Eventually he left with words of good nights in the air, and promises of meeting tomorrow. I managed to fall asleep for an hour or two beside my little sister on the bed, but a couple hours later I heard the door unlock and out came Jagan Mama. But I was so tired that I didn’t even have the stamina to wave or simply greet him. I dropped my head so hard on that pillow I thought my neck was going to snap.
But I was too tired to care at the moment.
The next morning we were planning on going to Mustufa to get some stuff for relatives in India. Like chocolates and sari’s and yada yada yada. So the morning went as it usually would and we were already off around ten am in the morning.
Singapore was so different in the daylight. Everyone had somewhere to go and nothing was scarce of movement, sure. But something about the day and night had such a different impact on everything in such an exotic place. Also, I took the time to really inspect Singapore with open eyes. Just by looking at the plant life you could tell that you aren’t even close to the Americas. The tree’s were more flamboyant, and the leaves more vivid and jagged on the edges. They even smelt enticing. Another thing is definitely the architecture. I am I sucker for peculiar, beautiful architecture and I love reading books about architecture too.
Singapore, obviously isn’t an exception. I mean the towering buildings that glitter even when you are only a few feet away. And there are so many different hot spots that I wanted to see as well. The Garden by the Bay was definitely high up on my list.
Also, I keep this list in my head, and also written out in my tablet and its basically a list of all the different states and countries I want to go to. Along with their national libraries. Like the National Library of France, or the one right there in Singapore. And I have seen pictures online of like, the best libraries in the CONTINENT. And most are basically scattered across the globe. And I have this dream of just traveling to all those places and visiting their libraries and bookstores. As well as admire the best architectural wonders.
Yeah, I know, blame me all you want for geeking out on you guys but you really can’t blame me. Books have intoxicated me in the best way humanly possible. PERIOD.
N o a r g u m e n t.
Also, the architectural wonders are literally man made phenomenons and you have to see em’ to believe em’. I mean look at this;
and this:
HOW DOES THIS EVEN EXIST
Oh my gods I just got really off topic the past few paragraphs. Sorry sorry.
Anyway, Mustufa was, -and interesting experience.
Walking into there I instantly recognized the vast space, the entry area greeting us with rows and rows with cases sporting watches. The air conditioning hit me like a slap to the face and my body’s initial reaction was to disperse goosebumps across my outer arms and collarbone. My parents had to make a couple purchases on that floor anyway, therefore I kinda just, broke apart from my family, staying back a couple of feet actually. I wandered and looked at the overwhelming variety of wristwatches, clinquat under the lights of the area.
I liked to think that each one, and mind you there were thousands of them, that each and every accessory had it’s own little physical personality to the wearer as a counterpart. Each face embellished in gold, or simply alloy or another light metal. Some with surfaces so small you would need to squint to see the numerals that were probably scrawled on with a microscopic brush and ink. Others with integers so large you would be able to tell the time from a mile away. Some were colorful and fun, whilst others had a sense of simplicity yet elegance. Like the two different halves of the brain. One flamboyant, the other coherent and reasonable. I inspected each one, my brows furrowed, I pulled a classic Cheshire Cat smile just to see my ditzy looking face in the gleaming glass cases. I am to much of a dweeb for my own good.
So that went on for a solid fifteen minutes or so. I meant my family and I staring at watches and stuff, not me pulling stupid faces and looking at my self into the glass like a deranged, mad perso- you know what it doesn’t matter.
Next we rode the escalator to the floor above to select sari’s to take to India. But that moment was when I realized that I was in for the long run. The instant we stepped off that platform, I saw rows and of different fabrics. Cotton, silk, velvet, rolls and folds, stacks, piles. It was like stepping inside one of those random drawings my little sister does whenever I draw. Her plump little fist clutching the various crayons or pencils, individually or all at once. She grips them like they’ll run away for dear life and let me tell you. I don’t blame them. Bursts of color, miscellaneous and at random. It was overpowering but I realized it was going to take more than half of an hour for my mother to make her selections. Therefore the one thing running in my head was;
nopenopenopenopenopitynope
This wasn’t going to end for a while.
HELLO TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD. Sorry I just felt like saying that at one point on the internet. AND I FINALLY DID. Yay me! Anyway, school started a couple weeks ago and, well. You know how that goes. I’m officially in eight grade now! Yeah. the top dogs of middle school. The veterans of sixth and seventh grade. Until we hit high school of course. Cause then it’s the cycle all over again. I have already been doused with homework and side projects already. So its no picnic but I’m holding together, as I should be. Sorry this post is kinda short because I’m planning on creating a bigger emphasis on my next post. I’ll try to make my work more frequent, and most likely post some of my latest pieces that I drew. I did quite a few in India and Singapore, and a couple when we got back to good old California, so you are in for a treat.
Also, I have been reading over the viewing statistics on my dashboard and over five hundred people have read “All the Way Home” a post I did a while back. That is INSANE.
Absolutely INSANE.
Oh my gosh, I never, I really never thought I would have that many people read my blog. Especially a post that really mattered to me. I mean, I am just a girl, a naive thirteen year old, and I have so many things I want to say that I want to get out. And the fact that people actually want to listen is what truly shocks me. I’m serious, when I saw that over five hundred people read that one post I almost broke down and sobbed. I was so overwhelmed. So much kindness, that I feel I don’t deserve. I’m no one special and yet here we are. I’m only thirteen and I have been at this blog since the sixth grade. This really makes me feel like I have a voice, even when I speak out I waver.
So all I want to say is thank you. I know it’s spontaneous, but I just am so grateful to all of you. Just for reading. It makes my heart feel whole and my soul glow. So, yeah that’s all I wanted to say. For now of course. And I just want to say one more thing.
We are all colorful, our blood, our veins, we are flamboyant. We decide if we want to see the rest of the world in black and white.