She’s the one with a perfect balance, firm yet comforting. She’s soft, sometimes rumpled yet she’s the one who embraces you in a perfect cuddle. She has been there in sickness and in health. She’s one of those worth going back home every night.
From getting to know how Thanappa made Ramanujan’s mail go missing, to midnight texts thrown like boomerangs into space, hoping for some to return – all remain rested in there at that spot. The spot just by the window where the light is just adequate and the ceiling fan brushes you gently – not too harsh, never too harsh.
I say, a home grows around a bed, and I have grown a few homes along the way. I feel I have one of the best, besides my own, at a mountain tops of North Bengal in Sherpa dada’s place where the food is spicy, the air cold enough to numb places that shouldn’t be and the bed familiar from one of my childhood memories.
So give your bed the love she deserves. Stay in a little late today. Be happy together for five more minutes.
Good Morning everyone! It’s a beautiful Saturday.
(To all my fellow Bengalis out there, Kal Panchami, ektu lyadh chole. Shubho Sharodia!)
Since you are in bed for the next 5 mins, Read Kolkata: The Selfish City.
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Photo by Kinga Cichewicz.
See you next time.