Hello everyone…
We are amid the most fatal pandemic of this century which has literally given us ‘a month of Sundays'. The death toll indicates an affectionate inclination of the coronavirus towards old people. Yet with this lockdown extending to infinity and our patience dwindling to a trickle, I fear we youngsters are more prone to being hospitalized than our grandparents are. Some day soon, out of impatience and frustration, our brains might cease to work and some adorable cuss words will escape our lips. We’ll be bludgeoned by our parents inside our homes instead of the police outside. (“Mere muh se nikal gayi, meri zabaan tuut gayi, Pappa” won’t be able to save our ass😜)
News update: 24k corona positives, 1000k ‘sooja pichhwada' positives in India!
In spite of such life-threatening risks, the home feels like the safest place in the world (c’mon, stop imagining Hogwarts and Berlin Bunker 😒) during a state of turmoil even when it may not be.
Home is the perfect holiday destination:
This 'feel' must be a result of our emotional attachment with our home as a result of the innumerable sweet and sour memories we have made in it.
Don’t you have any specific recollections about the house you spent your childhood in?
Having Rasna treats with cousins when the snoopy, nosey elders dozed off to an afternoon nap?
Falling asleep on the sofa at night and waking up in the bed the next morning?
Running through doors and hiding behind the curtains while being chased by your siblings?
Stealing Bournvita and getting caught due to the lack of criminal adroitness and the ability to leave the surroundings squeaky clean as before?
Gobbling unconsciously in front of the TV watching Doraemon, Tom and Jerry, even 9XM (Ab comments main ye mat daalna ki kabhi raat to 12 baje Fashion TV nahi dekha 😏)
A spooky tree that glared at you in the shadowy backyard when you went to pee alone at night?
Don’t you agree that these silly memories of our home have a unique place in our heart ❤️? What if someone didn’t get to experience any of the above fun as a kid?
After all, not everyone is so lucky, Laxman!
Like some rare others, I am one such exception. Personally, I haven’t done a single one of the above things! Let’s dive into a peculiar tale of my, Aryan Baloda's, life...
I have spent 97.03% of my life in a single room. There was always a room in which I would start the day, spend the day, end the day. One hostel room. As long as I remember, I have lived in a single room either with my Mum or all alone, in different cities- Barmer, Losal, Sikar, and now Pune.
It was just a room like any other rectangular space surrounded by walls for everyone else- my friends, classmates, you. However, it was my home to me.
I would wake up in my bedroom with a newspaper cutting of Sachin’s photo on my wall.
Minutes later, my bed combined with my chair would become my gym where I was ready to beat the HRX.
My mum is a genius. She would finish cooking as soon as the stove was lit.
Then, the remaining floor would be covered with a newspaper and we would eat in our special dining room.
I would sit in a study room in the evening, after which the kitchen would re-emerge and be followed by a bedroom at night. I would fall asleep every night with no complaints with the size of my home or the lack of partitions it had.
Only when my mother fried something in our ‘kitchen’ did I have to flee because of the spicy, oily, tadka burning my sclera to my nasal cavity. Plus, the smell of fried vegetables is more annoying than your own fart😆!
But needless to say, MAHABHARAT on STAR UTSAV couldn’t be sacrificed for such a trivial reason (so relatable once again right now 😛).
Our bodies just come in an automatic pact with these phenomena eventually.
In spite of my contrasting lifestyle, there were a few typical stupidities I successfully managed to commit like any other kid- breaking cups, spilling milk, cracking photo frames (well, my cricket ball was at fault for that).
My room was my nets where my one hand would be throwing the ball and the other one catching the TV remote. It was a silly yet fun feat to do.
I also succeeded in consistently crushing my finger between the only door of my house once a week. I believe there exists no human who hasn’t gone through this pain once in his life 😅.
It was the only room I wept in when something bad happened and the only room where I dreamt of becoming everything great when I grew up. However, my purpose in life changed every week depending upon the latest movie I had watched. It was the only room I was ‘quarantined' in for years.
I did get a chance to visit my village and stay in my parental home for like 10 days in a year. A huge Haveli with 8-9 rooms and a hell a lot of space to run around and make chaos.
However, I didn’t miss it at all. I was satisfied with my single room except on occasions when I couldn’t go and sit in another room after getting mad at my mom. I couldn’t shut the door and shout, “I won’t sleep there with you tonight!”. Most importantly, I couldn’t watch porn 😜.
Anyway, it was my ROOM. It was my HOME!
This was the story of Aryan's silly childhood.
Our next post will share with you an eerie tale of a demonic psychopathic villager, sinister in motives and lewd in character, who had haunted the women of our village for 20 years.
Although as real as death itself, the story is no less melodramatic than a NETFLIX web series.
Stay tuned…
Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aryanbaloda/
https://www.instagram.com/bhanukumawat17/
and Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/aryan.baloda.94
https://www.facebook.com/bhanupriya.kumawat.14
We are amid the most fatal pandemic of this century which has literally given us ‘a month of Sundays'. The death toll indicates an affectionate inclination of the coronavirus towards old people. Yet with this lockdown extending to infinity and our patience dwindling to a trickle, I fear we youngsters are more prone to being hospitalized than our grandparents are. Some day soon, out of impatience and frustration, our brains might cease to work and some adorable cuss words will escape our lips. We’ll be bludgeoned by our parents inside our homes instead of the police outside. (“Mere muh se nikal gayi, meri zabaan tuut gayi, Pappa” won’t be able to save our ass😜)
News update: 24k corona positives, 1000k ‘sooja pichhwada' positives in India!
In spite of such life-threatening risks, the home feels like the safest place in the world (c’mon, stop imagining Hogwarts and Berlin Bunker 😒) during a state of turmoil even when it may not be.
Home is the perfect holiday destination:
- kitchen- the best restaurant when Mum hasn’t had a fight with Papa,
- dining hall- the best dormitory when cousins arrive,
- courtyard- the best waterpark when wiping the floor after rain,
- bedroom- the best circus when Mumma scolds our siblings,
- terrace- the best stadium when our neighbors have a fight,
- sofa- the best theatre with randomly timed intermissions at every kissing scene.
This 'feel' must be a result of our emotional attachment with our home as a result of the innumerable sweet and sour memories we have made in it.
Don’t you have any specific recollections about the house you spent your childhood in?
Having Rasna treats with cousins when the snoopy, nosey elders dozed off to an afternoon nap?
Falling asleep on the sofa at night and waking up in the bed the next morning?
Running through doors and hiding behind the curtains while being chased by your siblings?
Stealing Bournvita and getting caught due to the lack of criminal adroitness and the ability to leave the surroundings squeaky clean as before?
Gobbling unconsciously in front of the TV watching Doraemon, Tom and Jerry, even 9XM (Ab comments main ye mat daalna ki kabhi raat to 12 baje Fashion TV nahi dekha 😏)
A spooky tree that glared at you in the shadowy backyard when you went to pee alone at night?
Don’t you agree that these silly memories of our home have a unique place in our heart ❤️? What if someone didn’t get to experience any of the above fun as a kid?
After all, not everyone is so lucky, Laxman!
Like some rare others, I am one such exception. Personally, I haven’t done a single one of the above things! Let’s dive into a peculiar tale of my, Aryan Baloda's, life...
I have spent 97.03% of my life in a single room. There was always a room in which I would start the day, spend the day, end the day. One hostel room. As long as I remember, I have lived in a single room either with my Mum or all alone, in different cities- Barmer, Losal, Sikar, and now Pune.
It was just a room like any other rectangular space surrounded by walls for everyone else- my friends, classmates, you. However, it was my home to me.
I would wake up in my bedroom with a newspaper cutting of Sachin’s photo on my wall.
Minutes later, my bed combined with my chair would become my gym where I was ready to beat the HRX.
My mum is a genius. She would finish cooking as soon as the stove was lit.
Then, the remaining floor would be covered with a newspaper and we would eat in our special dining room.
I would sit in a study room in the evening, after which the kitchen would re-emerge and be followed by a bedroom at night. I would fall asleep every night with no complaints with the size of my home or the lack of partitions it had.
Only when my mother fried something in our ‘kitchen’ did I have to flee because of the spicy, oily, tadka burning my sclera to my nasal cavity. Plus, the smell of fried vegetables is more annoying than your own fart😆!
But needless to say, MAHABHARAT on STAR UTSAV couldn’t be sacrificed for such a trivial reason (so relatable once again right now 😛).
Our bodies just come in an automatic pact with these phenomena eventually.
In spite of my contrasting lifestyle, there were a few typical stupidities I successfully managed to commit like any other kid- breaking cups, spilling milk, cracking photo frames (well, my cricket ball was at fault for that).
My room was my nets where my one hand would be throwing the ball and the other one catching the TV remote. It was a silly yet fun feat to do.
I also succeeded in consistently crushing my finger between the only door of my house once a week. I believe there exists no human who hasn’t gone through this pain once in his life 😅.
It was the only room I wept in when something bad happened and the only room where I dreamt of becoming everything great when I grew up. However, my purpose in life changed every week depending upon the latest movie I had watched. It was the only room I was ‘quarantined' in for years.
I did get a chance to visit my village and stay in my parental home for like 10 days in a year. A huge Haveli with 8-9 rooms and a hell a lot of space to run around and make chaos.
However, I didn’t miss it at all. I was satisfied with my single room except on occasions when I couldn’t go and sit in another room after getting mad at my mom. I couldn’t shut the door and shout, “I won’t sleep there with you tonight!”. Most importantly, I couldn’t watch porn 😜.
Anyway, it was my ROOM. It was my HOME!
This was the story of Aryan's silly childhood.
Our next post will share with you an eerie tale of a demonic psychopathic villager, sinister in motives and lewd in character, who had haunted the women of our village for 20 years.
Although as real as death itself, the story is no less melodramatic than a NETFLIX web series.
Stay tuned…
Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aryanbaloda/
https://www.instagram.com/bhanukumawat17/
and Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/aryan.baloda.94
https://www.facebook.com/bhanupriya.kumawat.14
Amazing bro👌👌
ReplyDeleteGood, relatable
ReplyDeleteVery relatable 😍. Bachpan yaad aa gaya..😍😍
ReplyDeleteWow ❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteMze to mera bachpan yad aa gaya.
ReplyDeleteSahi h bro
ReplyDeleteWo 24k and 1000 wala to gjb h😂😂😂
Bachpan ki memories yd aa gyi
ReplyDeleteAlways a pleasure to read them
ReplyDeleteLovely and so relatable though ♥️♥️
ReplyDeleteHehe, Nice One!
ReplyDeleteKeep it up
ReplyDeleteMost of that happens with all of us... Great work...
ReplyDeleteChildhood memories
ReplyDelete