Sunday, February 22, 2009

                                                  ITS BEEN 3 WEEKS IN MY NEW ROOM

21-02-09                                                                                                                                                    1:40a.m

Soft music al vapours from my laptop, room that has become something like a kettle of fish to live within. Factors that all have contributed to it are:

  1.          On my single bed-
  •          a heap of clothes  spread all over
  •          college bag
  •          newspapers and its supplements of the past two days
  •          switched on laptop producing the above mentioned tunes(the only soothing factor in my room)
  •          not to forget is the  1k.g packet of badams(mom packed it a month ago, still unfinished)

 

2.        Table A-

·         This table serves as a platoform(the randomized playlist has started an energetic funny song, nice change of mood) to a water bottle, a sweets box, utility box(which itself is a house of various kind of usefull junk), my nivea face cream, another pile of news papers, toothpaste, some books and magazines( I better not count them, they may fall if disturbed from their balance), and bottle of face-wash.

 

3.       On the floor-

·         There’s a table lamp(my companion since class 11)

·         Three travel bags, one packed with washed clothes, second has a mix of washed and dirty, third is a house to books and all of them has some tit-bits of useful stuff(like chargers) over them.

·         A bucket  and associated things

·         3 pair of shoes, two with pairs of socks stuffed in, and a third pair is lazying near the shoe on floor(he dislikes that shoe!, what the f?, its their personal matter)

 

Between all these, is a table “b”; a mobile on the top of a closed blue diary on the table. There is another diary with its arms open, a chair eagerly leaning towards it, raising its hind legs in air. There’s a royal blue colored  sleek cylindrical object that has let itself slid between the three fingers of a man with specs and a grey jacket over is back, with all his weight is laid on the table. As the metallic end at the lower side of that object swims across the palpating surface of her love; the man in the grey jacket decides to part them for a good reason.

He has decided to organize his life, passions and belongings in a defined manner .