In a dimly lit room, with messed hair and books abound on the bed, she stares nowhere, sitting stiffly on the hard chair. The clock shows three in the morning, yet the bed looks uninviting. She has too much to ponder upon, issues to sort out, too many vices to correct. She finds peace in the crackle of lightening outside and the splash of raindrops falling on the concrete of roads. She waits a while before she pulls back the curtain and throws open her glass panes. Gazing into the dark sky above, the smell of rust and wet grass greet her and the breeze glides in uninvited but not unwelcome. For moments, her thinking ability is incapacitated, taking a deep breath in, she waits for the beauty to sink in. The thunder brings her back. She falls on her completely occupied bed with a soft thud. For months, she has been away in a land she now has to call her own. She wonders how she has survived in midst of swarming voices. The verity of the situation dawns. She has had to adapt. In those crowds and shadows, she has become an addition. In a new land, she has lost and gained and yet the losses have left her unsettled. She thinks aloud whether there were chances, when she could have saved herself from losing. She has learnt well in a battle lost, she decides. The thunders hasten their measures and the rain has become louder in making its presence known. She, however, does not mind. She has accepted that wherever, she goes and whatever, she will grow up to be – this will always be home. A sleepless night and rain in a cluttered room. Always.


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