Turtle My Way Through You

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, an what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. ” ~ J. D. Salinger, The Catcher In The Rye

I recently have this novel intention of putting whatever worthwhile happenings happened to me into words and I decided that there’s no safer place than the Internet-shelf in this world; on account of fire nor time can destroy it. Therefore, you turtlely-read this.


Who am I?

I don’t know. Really. And, I’m that sort of… ah! forget it.

No, at least I should tell you when and where I was born. But then again like aforequoted Holden Caulfield I don’t feel like going in details, if you want to know the truth. Besides, I’m sure nobody want to read this kind of snobby baby-born-crap affairs. And if they incidentally do, let me tell you, they’re a slob. Therefore, I’m a slob.

Anyway, I was born in the last decade of the 20th Century A.D, somewhere in India. To be specific, in a state named Manipur. In Manipur a district named Churachandpur. In Churachandpur a sub-district named Tipaimukh.

Now, a sub-district named Tipaimukh is a place, almost unknown to the world, where mountains are rolling practically everywhere. And beautiful little clear rivulets are flowing through thick wild forests. Lots and lots of wild birds flies all over the sky and forests. Animals hoot. And wildflowers just bloom in abundant beauty. This mean I was a hilly tarzan-baby when I was born. And when I was born the 1990s was going to end soon and a new millennium was looming over a new horizon.

And then I turtle-walzing my way through the 2000s.


Where in the world am I now?

The year is 2018. Somewhere in Shillong, getting an introduction from ancient people like Plato and and their criticism and all. Reading the writings of all those old & dead great writers & dramatists and procuring, practically every day, a headache in trying to figure out exactly what they mean when they meant something . And listening to tantalising lectures and not so tantalising but sleep-inducing lectures.

And I’m happy.



Well, lately, I got this restless feeling that there is something out there, something like very big and exciting, something like a big kick a lifetime.

When I walked up the street in the evening under a yellowish lampposts’ light and a gentle puff of fresh wind brought a greeny smell of the world, I mean that street. I was like, all of a sudden, starting to believe that there was more things other than this very present moment. I mean people were walking passed by me and many motors’ headlight flashed upon my evening face and I was just walking by putting my fists in my side-pocket and did nothing important. But, that feeling was there and it almost materialized itself in front of me. I felt like I could touch it and it immediately gone away along with the dying of that puff of fresh wind. Then I was hollow all over again. After that I felt like shouting and screaming and moonwalk along the street under that yellowish lampposts’ light.