Poetry

She’s got a Serpent in her Pants

Hissing yet enticing

A Serpent smiled at her

Without knowing it will sting one day

She was enchanted by that smile

To fulfil the Serpent’s wild desires

She got him in her pants

Yes, a Serpent

She’s got a Serpent in her pants

He made her hole

He was filling her loveless marriage

And dark complexed insecurities

She trusted a Serpent over the humans

Bullied her loyal servants and let them go

Or chased them away

Because they knew that what she’s got

In her pants was a Serpent

Yet she keeps trusting

The hissing yet enticing Serpent

Poetry

Tick Tock

Up and down

Up and down

Left and right

The clock ticks

The time flies

The sky turns grey

So will my hair

So will your hair

So will our lives

It’s global

This pandemic

Wasted

So much time

Tick tock

Tick tock

Up and down

Left and right

My friend

I lie and watch

The wasted months

Wasted dreams

So much time

Wasted

The clock ticks

WILD WIND

Who Stole the Happiness!!!

Where are the writers who wrote poems to make us feel good? Where are they to put a smile on our faces? To make us feel touched by their words and realise the universe!

Where are all those songs which dug deep into our hearts? The ones we listened to at night and secretly wiped off a drop of tear or two?

Where are the books we loved and to read!! The ones that taught us how to love? Where are all those feelings hidden right now!!

Where are the friends who stood by our side over the years? Where is that loud sound of laughter I heard while I was with them?

Who stole our happiness for God’s sake?

I’m sure you have everything you were dreaming of when you were young. But where is the happiness you had when you were young! That happiness, that excitement, that laughter….

Wises that bloom at midnight

My heart sings Hallelujah

If you ever thought people with beautiful faces and bodies make this world beautiful, you were wrong.

It’s the kind, precious and grateful people who make this earth a beautiful place to live.

By Sabrina Fenn

Grateful are those who cherish mornings and evenings. They wait till the sun comes up to admire every ray of it on their skin.

Such grateful people see the world differently. Every slope they fall into is an opportunity to get back on their feet sooner.

My heart sings Hallelujah for the Grateful people for making this world a better place.

Kind are those who don’t impose their frustration, irritation and stress upon others.

They may have gone through hell in life, but they won’t continue the circle. They won’t make you a victim of their frustration. If you can be extremely down yet be kind, my heart sings Hallelujah for you.

Precious are the hearts that still dream even after their world fall unto their feet. They try to make the world a better place, every possible way. This kind empowers those around them, irrespective of their flows.

I know girls who cut their wrists and shaved their heads amidst dark days. However they were grateful enough to let the warm sunshine in and now they rejoice their lives.

By “a piece of Bella”

They are grateful they are alive and that their hearts still beat. They are glad that they are as alive just like the morning sun shine.

Life is beautiful.

If you haven’t got better even after all these years of adulthood, now is the time for you to think.

Be soft, kind and grateful like Heidi in that children’s story. World is hopeful for those who are hopeful.

The day you realise this and decide to be good for at least one person, my heart will sing Hallelujah for you too. ❤️

Corona Chronicles

Dreams washed away

I believe COVID 19 made the lives of even the easiest at least a bit hard.

For instance, all the plans I had for 2020 washed away with its high tide. Like a Tsunami. I see the debris of my dreams here and there.

When Tsunami hit the Indian Ocean in 2004, one of my friends said she saw her father’s head hanging on a fence which was ripped off by from his body by the waves.

I know I didn’t use the nicest metaphor here, but I can’t find any better comparison for the fate of my dreams.

Life is now better but different at the same time.

May be the word I wanted to use was “difficult” because I’m still trying to come to terms with everything that’s changing because of Covid.

Do you know that everything that gets lost can be found in the bottom of the ocean? May be you would find pieces of my dreams there too.

anu

Corona Chronicles

COVID Dismay

Please note that this post was drafted on the 18th of May 2020. It got late to be posted due to unavoidable circumstances.

I was given a bed near the entrance of the wing. I could see my husband standing at the far end at the entrance. I was sitting on the bed, because laying down and breathing didn’t synchronise well. That’s one reason why I was at the hospital.

The patients in my ward weren’t in dire conditions. There were a dozen however, who smelled of blood. The ward therefore smelled of blood and disinfectants.

There were several women sitting on their beds, watching me as I was the new comer there. They were curious, some tried to smile, but I was wearing my face mask so I didn’t have to reciprocate.

However I put the face mask away because I couldn’t breathe with it anymore. I was breathing with my mouth open. I guess my vision was blurry, but I saw a nurse wearing a plastic face shield connecting my nebulising machine to an oxygen supply.

I was partly unconscious and drugged because of all the steroids and medication given for asthma.

Rewinding back to that evening, it was the Vesak Poya day. We were fixing Vesak lanterns outside and watching people in groups walking here and there in face masks. They were watching Vesak lanterns down the road. It was a happy day because it was our first Vesak day as a married couple.

Our Vesak Lantern (2020)
One of our many Oil Lamps

Not that I was completely feeling okay. I was having severe asthma for two weeks and the husband who was covering 48 hour shifts at the TV station had to come home several times to take me for nebulising. One day he came at 2am and another day he came at 4am.

I remember mentioning in a previous post that I was ready to call an ambulance and leave for a hospital if needed, but it’s not that simple to do during Corona because we could loose membership to the neighbourhood forever.

However I ended up being admitted to the hospital. On this Vesak night I realised I needed medical care and my Aunt who’s a Doctor advised its best to get admitted to a Government Hospital which has the best care given the situation in the country.

Therefore here I was, yearning for breath on a tiny bed of the main government hospital.

It wasn’t a very pleasant feeling to get admitted to a hospital during COVID and reach your ward passing rooms of COVID patients.

A soup provided by the hospital.

True that I wasn’t feeling well and my sentiments represented my medical situation. However I couldn’t help but feel more miserable when driving through empty roads to the hospitals.

Now you see, with the privileges I had as a Journalist,I have travelled through the capital of the country during multiple inauspicious times during the Sinhala and Hindu New Year season and I have also travelled through curfew a year ago after the Easter Sunday Attacks.

However, I have never felt this miserable seeing the empty roads of Colombo. May be because everyone I saw was wearing a face mask, everyone was trying to keep distance from each other and simply the roads were empty in mundanely busy Colombo.

We were going out for about a month amidst the COVID 19 curfew with my husband’s Media accreditation as a curfew pass. He tried to cheer me up by driving me through the roads to see Wesak lanterns in vain. I wasn’t feeling joyful.

Sorry if this post didn’t bring a smile to your face, but Covid-19 never did.

Corona Chronicles

Ludo

Post Quarantine Lessons

We all found something new to do during the quarantine. Most of us cooked new things, some shaved heads, coloured hair blue or made tick tok videos.

Playing Ludo was another pass time we rediscovered after childhood days. When I first started playing ludo with my in laws, I was constantly defeated. What happened was quite weird, but it made me realise the mindset I have adopted over the years.

While playing, I would not kill anyone even if I get the chance. My goal was to go home (if it’s the right term) and I would accompany everyone with me, without killing them on my way. Killing them made me uncomfortable. Before long, I realised I was constantly being defeated due to this reason.

I was sad, I always lost. My husband said I can’t win this game if I’m not going to cut others off on my way. I wasn’t used to it.

Over the years, I grew confident in myself and in what I do that I never felt insecure about other people’s talents. I never envied, hated or put anyone down at work when they were shining in the group. Trust me, not even in my dreams.

Instead I used to help them grow and lift them up whenever they were down. I guess I was this way because I was shinning on my own. No one could do what I could do. They shone in their own sphere and I was shining in my own sphere. I was recognised for my talents and the others were recognised for their respective talents. Their goals and mine differed , so no one was a competition for me. I liked that zone of comfort I was in because my mind was at peace.

Then came ludo, I was constantly being defeated. Play ludo with me now, you can’t even try to defeat me. I’d cut you off on the first chance I get, and you get no mercy. I cut you off and I win.

This doesn’t mean I’d cut off my colleagues at my work place from now on because I learned the trick by playing Ludo. What I learned from this game is, I should adopt to situations.

Your behavioural traits should not be fixed and they aren’t applicable for every given situation. You should get out of your cocoon of thinking and get adjusted accordingly.

Don’t play Ludo at work! Don’t play how you do at work at ludo! Learn the rules and play your games accordingly.

Happy post quarantine !

My Diary

What others think

What if we put it this way. It’s absolutely normal for a human being to form an opinion about another when they first see each other.

It’s very difficult to not to have an option about another person at any given time and it’s also normal that this idea can be black or white.

According to how they talk to you and behave in front of you, this opinion can change.

What can you do about it? You cannot live to please others. You can’t be nice to everyone all the time. You can’t be always smiling and act happy in order to form a white image of you in their minds. One would say you are a good person and another one would say you are bad.

You are neither good or bad. You have moods, go through things, have experiences. Different people might see different sides of you.

There’s no use of trying to convince people on social media saying I’m this kind of person and not this kind of person and that you don’t care what others think.

The thing is, everyone thinks the same way. I repeat. The same way. No one is special for that fact to change.

So what can you do, to be a good or bad person in another’s eyes? It’s up to you. You must decide on whom you should have a good impression and work your way to prove it.

You decide how you will respond when others judge you, because we all do. You make up your mind about others opinion about you.

What is important here however is, you can work on how you judge others. It’s because, you are “others” to others. If we make sure we judge others fairly, you’ll be judged fairly too. I can’t guarantee this, but first you must change before changing others.

That’s what I wanted to tell you this morning. It’s Monday, and lives are getting back to normal.

Make sure you judge people fairly this week.

Love

Rose

WILD WIND

Friends who create

I love my friends who create. I love my friends who write heart touching poems, songs and stories. I read them and cry sometimes.

I love my friends who are official photographers. My eyes just party on them and my heart is enthused when I see them.

I love my friends who create content for Facebook and Youtube. Some talk about pets, some talk about airplanes. Their eyes just glisten when they talk about creating.

I also love my friends who design. Be they houses, be they clothes these designers simply add colours to our lives and life to the colours around us.

I thought of several friends as I wrote this. They just make me feel happy. So happy

Corona Chronicles

Curfew Chaos

Some days you chronicle in your head but they are so bad that you don’t end up writing anything. Chaos, uncertainty, fear and loneliness hit you like you have never been hit by anything else in your life.

Yesterday started with chaos. I’m an asthma patient and I get really bad asthma attacks now and then, at least every two months. This month too, my asthma attack decided to visit me during these days of havoc and make our lives more difficult. Although I got ready to go and get nebulised by the private clinic in the town, my aunt who is a Doctor advised me not to enter any private clinic due the fast spread of Corona Virus. Since she recommended some pills instead, I ordered an Uber and set off to the town alone as my Husband left for work (It’s very weird to call him that but I have no clue what-else to call him.)

In a way I thank I wanted Asthma medicine so soon in the morning because on my way Hubs (sounds better) phoned me and said the government is going to impose curfew in the evening for at least two days and he asked me to buy everything we will want for the next few days.

It’s at times like these you understand the perks of you or at least your spouse working at a newsroom because, the moment I reached the Supermarket no one knew about it. So I was able to reserve a sack of rice and a loaf of bread, however the next moment people started storming in like bees in a hive, who lost their queen bee inside the supermarket. I didn’t buy much other than some vegetables, medicine and some snacks.

However Hubs who left for work in the morning to cover a 24 hour shift phoned back with bad news.

“I have to stay at office until the curfew is over” he said

“What the ****** ******** ?” I couldn’t help but scream.

“I’m sorry” he sounded guilty. “Everyone who started the shift in the morning has to stay. I’ll be coming home to get some more clothes. I asked for two more Junior Producers to help me out during these three days. Are you going home or staying?”

I had decided to stay because I have a very old grandmother and a grandfather, also a mother with respiratory issues, therefore I decided to stay in my apartment. If my asthma gets worse, I’d call the Police helpline and get to a hospital. Yes alone, but worst things have happened to me, so I would manage.

The flowers hubs was planning to bring home

So the Hubs came back to get some more clothes and on the way he said he got some flowers for me. Umm boy you don’t know who coughed on them before you got them so… I know you love me, but please throw them away ATVM!!!!!

Although I took the whole situation lightly I knew this would not be easy for me. Constantly worrying about the Hubs who is exposed an exponential number of virus careers and living in an apartment alone is not easy. He promised that the company has taken every step to keep the place sanitized, like they had a separate elevator operator, hand sanitizers on every desk and masks at hand. One of my collegues, who is a News Anchor also shared a picture of a makeup box that were given to every Presenter in house. That looked so cool and I guess I’ll be making my own make up box after the storm passes away.

The cool, personal makeup box given to on screen Presenters at TV Derana

However, Sri Lanka records 73 Corona Virus patients as I’m writing this and Police curfew is imposed around the country. I find it funny that 30 people were arrested for partying after imposing curfew because when will these people understand that being together spreads this Virus!!!

Sri Lanka imposed Police Curfew from 6pm on 20th of March till 6am on 23rd of March to mitigate the spread of Covid-19

When the situation in Sri Lanka is as such, the situation in the rest of the world is becoming frightening. These pictures circulating in the internet since yesterday are haunting me .Italy broke its own record of daily fatalities yesterday by hitting 627 NEW deaths, which is the largest single day toll anywhere in the world since the beginning of the Corona outbreak. Their government has called the military to enforce Corona Virus lockdown.

ITALY 2020/03/20
Corpses being carried away in Trucks
Italy – 2020/03/20

However, Wuhan Province in China, which is the Corona virus outbreak’s epicenter reported no new or suspected cases again for a third consecutive day.

In the meantime, Medical authorities in China say that a drug used in Japan to treat new strains of influenza appeared to be effective for Corona Patients. They said that “favipiravir” developed by a subsidiary of Fujifilm has produced encouraging outcomes in clinical trails in Wuhan and Shenzhen involving 340 patients.

Avigan 200

Although this might look like a promising way out of this disaster, it’s not adequate to convince me that we are in safe hands yet.

Before ending today’s post, I can’t help but remind everyone that today is World Poetry day, because I don’t know what I would be and what my existence on this planet would mean without poetry.


Corona Chronicles

Dhal and Canned Fish

I don’t know why I felt like starting this series in my blog but as a blogger, if I don’t write about these days I don’t know what I should be writing right now.

May be more than wanting to tell the world what is going on now, what I want is to preserve these blog posts for the future generations to see.

It’s been almost one week since the first Sri Lankan Corona patient was detected. Within one week, the number has roared to 50 by the time I’m writing this.

Social media has gone havoc over President Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s speech where he pointed out a number of steps the government has taken to curb the situation but stressed that the country won’t be locked down.

His argument was since there are agricultural and other economic activities going on, a lockdown would hinder most people in the country to access their basis necessities.

He also emphasised the elections will be held anyway because he needs the mandate to tidy up things in the government and pass the necessary provisions to run the county smoothly.

Although I agree with this decision , I doubt the practicality of people reaching polling stations in a situation like this for voting. Counting will be another issue.

However, my husband says the President will postpone elections after the nominations take place so all the political parties will go for elections with the hot messes they are in. According to him, that’s a string the President is pulling in this power game to retain the power.

Forget how he talked because we all know he’s not a good orator, and expecting him to console people with words at a moment like this is nonsensical of you to even think. In my head I know he’s always working and looking for solutions unlike the other leaders we have had so far.

People buying canned fish and dhal after price reduction

However out of everything the President said the UNPers and JVPers are only talking about the decision to reduce the prices of dhal and canned fish. While it could sound like a joke to many of us, it is a great deal for people who live on daily wages.

On a lighter note, I yesterday realised I have not cooked canned fish in my entire life. (I cooked so many vegetables for the first time after I got married)

However I decided the few canned fish we bought will be the last I’d cook during this crisis because both I and my husband are prescribed not to eat them.

Today we received a parcel my sister sent through an ex colleague. It had some handmade face masks and two Oxypura masks. In return, I sent my sister a few ‘perumkayan’ tabs and two bottles of hand sanitizers because those are hard to be found in Wadduwa. She has also sent a birthday card with wishes from everyone at home making me missing those at home.

Perumkayan

However my sister has received only one tab of “perumkayan” I don’t even like to think what could have happened to them.

On another note, my sister is worried about my brother who went to the Royal- Thomian Big Match which was attended by a Corona infected first officer in Sri Lankan AirLines. My sister wants me to insist my Punchi to self – quarantine my brother.

However I decided to stay away from social media for a while because posts published by some people are too raging and unsettling at times like these.

I’d rather heat some coriander and ginger which for some reason was the favourite drink of me and my husband since we got married. (Apart from tequila and Whiskey of course)

Finally I’d end today’s note with this picture I found on Facebook. I guess I can’t describe the feeling I get when I see it.

Security forces disinfecting Temple of the Tooth Relic in Kandy
Corona Chronicles

UNCERTAINTY

That evening my man and I sat on the stairway of our apartment which opens to the surrounding. It was twilight but was darkened by a layer of mauve colour clouds.

A colony of bats were invading the sky. Although they were out looking for food, given the uncertain time in the world, they almost recreated a scene of an apocalypse.

The dark and cold atmosphere was spreading a miserable feeling among the two of us and it didn’t help the uncertainty we were feeling due to the fast spread of Corona Virus in the county. 

The thing is, this is not the first time we felt this way about life. We have just begun our lives, but we were feeling this way even before we started our life together. 

Almost one year ago, 21st of April, Sri Lanka faced the most heinous human tragedy of recent times. Three churches and three luxury hotels were blasted using suicide bombers on the Easter Sunday with the indirect assistance of the then government killing around 250 (even the numbers were meddled with by the government) 

Myself and my then fiancé, who were Journalists at a leading news channel in the county, were recovering from a hangover from the previous night. We didn’t drink together. He ended his shift earlier and had a boost with colleagues while my team had  beer for dinner. It was one of those nights where we would drunk sing in the transport and miserably look for water and end up at Mcdonald’s for more food. 

Our faces say it all 😀

The fiancé stayed at my home, in my old room which later became his room and I was sleeping in my sister’s room which was evacuated after her wedding. 

That morning was however too chaotic to remember and all I can recall is getting calls from the office and getting on the way God knows how. 

St.Sebastian’s Church, Katuwapitiya, Negombo, Sri Lanka

No one knew what happened, nor knew who did it. Once we reached the office, my Catholic colleague with whom I shared a beer the previous night hugged me and cried. The churches were blasted. 

Another colleague who said the churches were “bombed” was removed on air (that’s how accurate, precise and responsible we were back then). She too found solace on my shoulder because she had seen one of her family friend’s disassembled corpse somewhere in front of a luxury hotel.   

The Kingsbury Hotel, Colombo, Sri Lanka

One of the News Managers, who was usually calm and quiet, was shouting on top of his lungs because row footage of victims were put on air by mistake.

The rest of the day ended in a flash with more news of more blasts and more fake news flooding the newsroom. 

We were running to and fro from the newsroom to the control room, to the studio and even  looking for the makeup artist for touch ups for the anchors. 

This moment we had to write a script for the breaking news listening to the verified information the chief editor was getting and to the Sinhala script they were writing. 

The other moment we were in the control room typing captions with the increasing number of attacks and casualties. The other moment we were writing the main news segments for the main bulletin at night. 

While I was running, I noticed my fiancé who was sitting at the Producer chair of the live broadcast for around 6 hours by then. 

Among all the work I had to do, I’d also fill his bottle of water and keep it under his seat because I knew everyone around him emptied it. They didn’t get a chance to drink some water or use the toilet while the live broadcast was in operation. (I can’t go on from here without making a note that our societies often underrate the role of Journalists during crisis situations. You only praise the security forces and doctors but not the Journalists who are on the roads and report to you. That bravery is always forgotten) 

It’s then, when I was looking at him and he returned a glance of uncertainty that my heart cracked open and a string of tears ran down my cheeks in front of at least 20 people in the control room. The fiancé was operating and ordering them all and had only that millisecond to spare for me. But his eyes said it all and froze my heart with a cloud of uncertainty over our futures and our lives. We were getting married in not more than one and a half months but we didn’t know if we would get home alive. 

A moment before Ada Derana main news bulletin at 6.55pm went on air. I was recording a voice cut of Kishu Gomas over the phone.

Curfew was being imposed in Colombo and around the entire county in no time and our parents wanted us home that instant. They even offered to come and pick us. But we weren’t their children anymore. We had a bigger responsibility on our shoulders and from that day on, we worked two weeks at a stretch without any leave. And it sounded stupid to get married amidst all this.

The fiancé was so enthusiastic about a video production of our wedding reception with his own shot plan ready for the event. However, he was disheartened and gave up the entire production  since the drone operator cancelled at the last minute in face of a ban on drones. 

Letting such petite things go, the skies were grey and the days were uncertain. The security forces found swords and firearms from all parts of the country everyday. 

Material used to make explosives found from households

One the way to work, the train master asked to use a bus because they heard an armed person  who escaped the security units in Payagala got into a train. But the main roads in Colombo were more in danger and roads were closed. 

Police doing search missions for terror activities in the Colombo bound commute

Curfew was imposed every night and our transport vehicles would drive through roads like cemeteries. They were checked at every checkpoint and everyone had to show them an unexpired Media ID card issued by the government. ( Hats off to the Security force members who were very strict on this.) However, it made the process get longer and we got down at home later than ever. The days were more hectic and more uncertain. 

Deserted Roads during curfew imposed nights after Easter Sunday Attacks in SL

Coming back to yesterday, where I was sitting on our stairway with my Husband we were looking into uncertainty of life yet again. 

“I think it’s better that you go home and spend some time with your mother” he broke the silence.  

“We both know your immune system is weak.” he walked on my silence. 

“We can’t risk you catching this virus at this moment given our situation. I have to go to work everyday and you know the office is a breeding ground. There is a chance of me carrying the disease home” his voice was sorrowful, helpless but what he said was true. 

I kept my silence for a few more minutes.

Among the battalion of bats that were flying in one direction, one or two flew back towards another direction.

“Why do you think these bats are flying towards another direction?” he asked, in face of my silence.

“Maybe they sensed something the others didn’t and they trusted their instinct” I guess that was the first time I spoke something that entire evening. 

“I’m not going home. I’m staying here with you” I added. 

I heard the rhythmic chanting of the ‘rathana sutra’ from a temple afar. 

The Colony of Bats

ENDS 

 

Poetry

Dying moment

I’ll see your face 

Painful, confused, clueless 

Disbelieving face 

At my dying moment 

Nothing else 

All my sins

In one face

Poetry

Valentine’s Haux

Don’t expect those who love hard

Who sacrifice everything they have

Who have huge hearts

Or simply, those who really love

To celebrate petite things like

Valentines

These days are for merchants

Not for those who root their hearts out of

Their souls and give to another

WILD WIND

Soul and Universe

Great things happen when you connect with the universe. It’s the utmost source of healing for your soul. Look! What happen to you in this life doesn’t define who you are or your soul. Your soul has seen better, more beautiful and amazing things in life traversing through the universe and therefore it knows better. Trust your soul, let it connect with the universe and bring solutions to the challenges in your life. Just believe in Universe 🧘‍♀️

Courtesy to the unknown artist ❤️
WILD WIND

Saying Good Bye to 2019

How to assess your year/decade/ move on and get ready for the New Decade

Hello everyone, welcome to my blog. I’m writing this post to all of you out there who want a fresh start for the new year.

Let’s get to the point. We are stepping into 2020 not more than 20 days from now. It’s not only a new year, it’s also a new decade and at the end of these ten years, you’ll be ten years older. How do we mentally and physically get prepared for the new year!

Let’s do this step by step. I suggest you get some pen and paper (preferably a book, so you won’t lose it later.) It’s also advisable that you do this on your own, find a comfortable time and place for this. ( Hot beverage and some cookies recommended as per your choice 😁)

There are several lists you need to make to get you mentally prepared for a new beginning.

This process will take a bit of time, so make sure you are totally relaxed and ready for this.

Image – cloudythurstag

The first one. Let’s dig into the past, ten years back in time.

  • List down the plans you had ten years ago

This list should include your plans you had ten years ago relating to your education, carrier and personal life. Try to cover all these aspects when writing your list.

  • A list of what you could achieve out of the list

In a separate list, write down as to what could be achieved out of the list and any other achievements you had outside the above list or change of plans. Even making a new great friend counts.

  • A list of where you failed

This list is for yourself. You won’t be posting it on your social media sites, so that’s okay. Therefore be honest and jot down everywhere you failed and lost. This list is the most important one out of all.

Image – goptareva

After making the list, we are going to assess our failures. If you failed in something you still want in life, you are going to put them in one list and if you want to let go of the things you failed at, put them in a separate one.

  • Overview

Create two overviews for the decade and 2019. In these, write what you genuinely feel about your life during these periods. If you feel like a total failure, that’s okay. We are going to figure out how to achieve those goals in the coming years. If you are happy and proud of what achieved, totally take the credit and be proud of yourself. But I’m pretty sure, any lay man must have things in both lists, so you are left with a mixed feeling.

Image – @listentothestories

Now take a minute and think of the future. What do you want to do in this coming year and the decade.

  • A list of things you want to achieve in 2020 and the entire decade

No rush, take your time to make this list. Be visionary and imagine yourself with the things you need to achieve in this coming year and the entire decade. Note that this should include your educational, professional and personal goals. Whatever the age you are in, you never stop learning. Also in personal goals, write how you could be a better person. It could be how to be a better boss, a better friend or a wife.

  • Think of ways to achieve them

You might not know how to achieve all those things you need in life. It’s okay, you may ask someone or simply things will fall in place if you put your mind to it.

Image – @august.ro

So we are done. ✅ Now you are ready to face the new beginning. Unknowingly, we have made a list of resolutions you need for the new year. If I told you let’s make resolutions, you might hesitate because they are mocked in social media by memers ( I don’t know if it’s an official word, but memers are those who make memes for social media) have put out the notion that resolutions are things you can’t achieve and they are useless. They have also made it a point that it’s okay to go into a new year unprepared.

But I can’t do that. I’m sorry. And I’m sure there are many out there who wants the satisfaction of mental preparedness when the midnight strikes for a new year. This post is for them. ❤️🌸

Therefore, take charge, put your phone away and allocate some time for your new year resolutions. Also allocate some time for meditation, get rid of cluttered thoughts, aims, plans and people and get those plans you listed into your head.

Good luck with the mental decluttering and rewiring the brain for a fresh start.

🌸🌸🌸

-Anuradha

Poetry

My Dreams

Courtesy- Fine Art America

I dream of crispy sunshine

I dream of bees and musks

I dream of caramel leaves

That fall on autumn Parlours

I dream of dry and husky

Air that dance in autumn

Of snow flakes that echo

My Christmas time deco

Though it’s summer of my life

I dream of Springs and springs

Blue waters that flow so fine

I dream of dark blue twigs

I dream of wine and vine

In a picnic under the pines

I dream of baked sweet corn

To have on picnic loans

I dream of light blue ocean

I dream of wind in motion

I dream of snow so white

And an old you by my side

-Anuradha

WILD WIND

GIRLS’ GUIDE TO DEAL WITH MOTHER-IN-LAW

Credits-@Sarra_art

Mother -in -law is a character we all have to deal with at some point in our lives as a part of a package deal. Many in Asian countries find it challenging to deal with Mother -in -Laws for some obscure reason. This guide will help you with answers for all your awkward situations with your MIL and will help you strengthen the bond. Never forget, you’ll be one of them in the future too. So understanding this character will help you be a good mother- in -law one day.

• Realise the background

Girls… first things first, just realise, just like your husband or anyone else, your mother -in- law comes from a completely different background from yours. Understand the culture, values, religion and many other things she represents can be different from the ones you cherish. Just because you might not agree with what she believes in, it doesn’t mean she’s wrong. So, before jumping into conclusions about her, come to terms with the idea that she’s a different human being, and respect that.

• Give her space /listen to her

This is the second part of the process of understanding your mother -in -law. Just like it’s your first time dealing with a mother -in -law, it could be her first time dealing with a daughter -in -law. While she may be an excellent mother, she might suck at being a mother in law since it’s an alien concept for her. Therefore, give her time and space to come around dealing with you. Once you understand each other, and trust her to be a good mother in law, she’ll be confident in her role.

• Balance the son and the mother

Well, you may have known your man for a few years but his mother knew him his entire life and more. There’s no better person who knows him like she does. So it’s important you handle this relationship very carefully because you should not, I repeat, YOU SHOULD NOT BREAK THIS BOND.

It’s very important to be very fragile in communicating the issues you have with MIL to your husband and visa versa. While you should voice up any issues you have in your new family, make sure you are not unfair, or devastating.

• Learn from her

This is one benefit you get by your MIL coming from a different background. You can learn an array of things from her, like house keeping, cooking, child raising, life lessons and your husband. Have your own time with each other once in a while and just listen to her and learn from her. Adults are treasures with knowledge. Be humble and ask her to teach you what you don’t know.

• Respect/ patience

Okay, let’s face it. All the MILs might not be cool, poised and understanding. If you have a MIL who is difficult to handle, please accept my sympathies, but don’t lose hope. You’ll be able to have a good relationship with her if you are patient and respect her. Ensure you fulfil your responsibilities as a daughter -in -law so she won’t have anything to say against you. Let her get used to you.

• Form a cute cult

Although it’s not advisable to treat MIL as a friend all the time, it’s a cool idea to form a cool click with her and have your own jokes and secrets. Even your man will be relieved to see you two in good terms.

Credits-@Sarra_art

❀✿ ❀✿ ❀✿ ❀✿

I hope these tips helped you deal with your mother – in – law better. Let me know if you have different ideas. I value your feed back a lot.

ꕥ. ꕥ. ꕥ. ꕥ

@Content subjected to copyrights

Poetry, POPULAR LOGS

Why we should go back to keeping a Journal

(and how to keep it trendy and useful)

In this day of social media and mobile phones, the job of a journal is often fulfilled by them and the actual pen and paper is replaced by instagram stories and note keeping softwares.

While that is unarguably useful and trendy, here’s a few reason why you should go back to keep a journal.

Image subjected to copyrights
  • You can’t rely on technology

Let’s face it. Your phone can get stolen or you could lose it. Do you remember your best friend’s phone number? You remembered his land phone number in 10th grade but not anymore. You see my point right? Keeping a Journal can help you store important information that you need to survive.

  • Its good to your mental health

Writing down what happened during the day automatically lead you to identify the issues you have. Contemplating on them during the writing process helps you see the answer yourself. It’s a proven way to improve your IQ and emotional intelligence. (I’ll write an article on this later). Simply, writing down your thoughts, worries, goals and achievements help you be focused and reach your goals.

  • Amnesia (lol… keep calm, but it makes sense)

Do you remember your childhood best friend’s birthday? Do you remember the exact date you graduated? Well I do, because I have all those incidents nicely jotted down in my Journals. Your Facebook memories will do the job too. But your Journal will store so much of INFORMATION that you care about the most.

  • Collect memories

Imagine yourself at age 75, sitting lonely on your rocking chair and waiting for your children to come see you. If you have the journals you kept all those years, they will help you rejoice your life here on earth. They will help you remember things, like what a great human being you are and you’ll be left feeling accomplished by those memories.

  • A friend on the go

Not all of us have the luxury to meet our best friends everyday. But having a journal will do the job of listening to your chaotic day and help you get over your worries. Make your Journal your best friend. It will never disappoint you.

How to keep your journal trendy

  1. Call it a name

I learned this trick from the Diary of Ann Frank who called her Journal “Kitty”. Talking to a real person will help you think of your Journal as your best friend.

2. DIY your Journal

Look, you don’t need to buy the cute Journal you see on Instagram advertisements. It’s okay if you can afford them. If you can’t, just buy a simple notebook and create your own unique Journal. Here are some ideas for you to create your own Journal.

https://diyjoy.com/diy-journals/?source=post_page—–2b575c283f88 

Just a cute wrapping paper will help transform a simply notebook into a trendy Journal.

3. Create a pocket

Just cut one page of your Journal, trim it a bit to make it smaller and paste it on another page by the end of your Journal with one side open. Voila, you’ve got a secret pocket in your Journal. You can keep your notes, bills and memories collected.

Here’s another way you can do it.

https://craftyjournal.com/pocket-page-in-a-book/?source=post_page—–2b575c283f88———————-

4. Collect memories

Jot down your favourite lines from songs, poems, paste pictures of your favourite actors, small movie posters and everything you love and paste-able. This way you can keep everything you love in one place. You can also collect autographs of people you look up-to. Another trick, ask your friends to leave a note in them, you’ll definitely love going back to those memories.

I hope this article helped you in convincing to start Journaling right now! Tell me what more we can add to these and new ways of keeping your Journal.

~Anuradha~

© Images and content subjected to copyrights

Poetry

The Tragedy of my Life 

Oh no…!! Not to accuse him I write this

My story this is, the tragedy of my life

I was in hell; I knew it when he showed

The better beauty of life

He took my hand and showed

How fast the human heart can beat for another

That magnetic and fiery thunder

Produced when two beings are together

The beauty of human feeling

The hidden desires of my heart

He then thought we had gone too far

Loosened my hand

I fell back into my personal hell

Once I thought it was the right heaven for me

A mere place with dull and motionless life

The worst thing was the realization of the truth

My physique lies here, yet my heart lies elsewhere

In a better place with warmth and extreme life

“I loosen your hand for good” he said

How good can this feeling be

The knowledge that my life is lifeless

This, the tragedy of my life

Poetry

The place in my heart 

Yes you were correct

You have no place in my life

Only a tiny but special place in my heart

That place my boy, is dark

Yet lightened by candles and stars above

It smells of black roses: intoxicating and relaxing

I tread there light-hearted and blissfully

Laughs and mischievous jokes

Witty remarks and playful grudges

That place has no name

Just you and me, no meaning

(2015)

Poetry

I Breathe Heavy (Was It a Sigh?)

Imagination you fed me

Blind images I drank

And breathed your words

I lived unreal
All gone now, I see well

I breathe air and move myself

With real food and

Water
I carry on my life

You are past, let’s hope so

We are done, not you and

I anymore
For your good and mine own

For the sake of reality I let you go

I breathe heavy (was it a sigh?)

Yet I promise I’ll pen no more

No more of you or us

I breathe heavy (was it a sigh?)

(2015))

Courtesy – Pinterest

Poetry

What If 

What if I were not his and you were not hers…

We could be ours…Couldn’t we?

They won’t call our tree house is on a forbidden tree

You could kiss me sans guilt and I could escape with you sans guilt

What if…!! What if….!!

What if you were mine….?

I won’t be gone when you wake up

You could be mine in the sun too

Now that you and I belong to the moon

We watch the stars… You know their names

We could watch the breaking of the dawn too

If you were mine…

It rains and snows outside

We could make our tree house warmer

With our breath and skin on fire (sans guilt)

“What if I kiss you anyway…?”

You ask me. I have no answer

If you were mine

There could be neither rules nor limits

If you were mine and I were yours

You already are… don’t you think?

Though not physically your soul belongs to me

What if you were mine?? Completely!

What if I love you anyway??

(2014)

Cinematography- Julien Douvier
Poetry

Where I hide you…

Not in a clean Feuillet that I write about youNot in a pretty looking journal nor in my facebook page

But behind the books I am reading… on the very last page

Copperfield, Mill on the Floss, Wuthering Heights and She

Have poems about you on their last pages

A different story, the world will not understand

Not even those who justify Heathcliff, Maggie or Ayesha

Will justify me

While reading,
When philosophies are too advanced

You creep into my fatigued mind

Our laughs, our jokes and our stories distract me

Your laugh, your sighs and your concerns take me away

Away to a dream which both of us love to dream together

And this… is written on the last page of Frankenstein
(2015)

Poetry

I’m sorry Sister 

Sinhala, Tamil and Muslim, we all are children 

Of mother Sri Lanka ; they said 

I’m a Sinhala child of this mother 

Who once wore a scarf around my head 

To hide from the scorching sun 

Which is dating the equator nowadays 

My mirror said I looked like a fine 

Muslim Diva in a hijab 

But realised it was a wrong choice

That day I learned that I know nothing of 

Street harassment

“Muslimaaaaa” one shouted past me

“What ripe fruits are you hiding” one asked 

“Wear that and go to jail whore” was another 

“You Muslim, why don’t you just die” was the other 

I’m sorry Sister, not the Muslim girls I know 

Or the ones in general 

I apologise the Muslim sister everyone of my own kind saw in me 

I’m sorry Sister… I’m so sorry 

Credits – @sarra-art

Poetry

Voices in my Head 

It’s so loud inside my head 

A woman wrapping her hands around her knees 

is weeping for all the things she lost…

Another one, reads out motivation

Makes sure I head the right way

The other one swings on a feather and dreams of words and reads out poetry 

There’s yet another woman 

Burning for love and burning for soulfulness 

It’s very loud in my head 

And I carry the burden of these women 

In my head 

Poetry

How to know you are a Writer 

You know you are a writer when…

You are a slave of sunrise, sunset,

Roses, dew and snow

When others enjoy the view, take snaps

You always scribe down in frenzy

The last pages of note books filled 

With lines, poems memories 

People you meet, characters in stories

You know you are that kind 

When the brook flows, so do your words 

The beat of the universe is the

Beat of your heart  

Uncategorized

What kinda Girl 

I’m that kind of girl 

Whom they wonder 

“How did she get there?”

“How does she still be?”

“Is this possible? She was just… you know”

“Heyyy that girl…I know her

Well I used to….”

“She’s doing that now? She wasn’t even…” 

“I barely know her but I think she’s so bitchy

“But I stalk her anyway”

Yes

I’m that kind of a girl 

The mirror of the night

Wronged (?)

Did I wrong or am I wronged? 

Standing still in the witness box 

Your mother and wife in the other 

“Did you wrong? “ The judge asked me

“I just loved “I said. “Lost everything but loved”

“Did you wrong?” He asked your mother and wife 

“Yes, We cursed her. She was the other one. The other woman. She should get demolished….So we just did away with her” 

Judge – “Did you know this? “

Me “Yes an astrologer told me three years ago 

That I was cursed by black magic 

He even told me the names of those who did”

Judge “Were you sure? “

Me – “Yes. Even his mother recently checked my horoscope

Was told I’m cursed 

That’s why I get sick 

That’s the reason behind this pain 

That explains… my demons…my near death pain 

I’m crumbling away like a pastry 

But he is holding to me… 

he who gave me hope to live 

He is hopeful every hour, minute, second 

That I would get better 

He massages my aching body 

Wipes away my tears 

He’s hopeful that I’d wake up 

To be his bride one day 

The mother of his child

But he also knows I’m cursed 

He doesn’t care” I weep 

Judge – “I don’t need all the details 

Did you wrong? Or not”

Me – “I just loved. If I wronged… so did your son, your husband”

I told your mother and wife

Who cursed me… three years ago 

My father checked my horoscope 

Yesterday 

He tells me “he said you are cursed. Difficult to raise your head..”

“Yes I wronged” I tell the judge

“But I’m wronged too” 

The judge scratches his head 

“I order your son/ husband to give a statement on this regard” he says 

“ it doesn’t matter… nothing matters anymore” 

I sigh. 

Under my breath 

Uncategorized

The Broken 

The broken…. they live too

The ones you thought would die 

Out of sorrow of parting 

The ones that still breathe through

Darkest nights and loneliest, scariest  dreams 

The ones with souls of worriers 

Will come back, stronger 

Although with damaged souls 

Because after a fire 

The things that don’t destroy 

Will be made the hardest 

Newsroom Chronicles

Clash of Self

It’s very ironic that the last post I posted was exactly one year ago. Going through them once again I asked him if he’s okay with all the poems I have written about someone else or if he wanted me to delete that history away. “Keep them” he said. “Those are great work of art. Why do I want them to be removed!” Reading them again now, I can’t relate to the context of those poems and prose anymore. There’s a clash of self.

There’s a clear clash between my this self, myself this time last year and the self the year before that. Keep note that this is not an annual change. This is what happened to me after a sequence of events that took place in my life. It’s like I have carried three different people inside this body. It’s quite quiver…even to think…quite tragic too.


The self I had the longest in my life clearly died. My workplace killed it. My petite emotions, the poetic mind, certain elements of my personality were brutally murdered by the two months training but I was happy she died because that was the end of Sorrow.

Then appeared a hard hearted easy going person who knew no emotion at all. She was never sad, never happy either. She never felt anything but she existed. She was improving career-vice. It was as if she were made for this career. The emotionless self suited the course job… everyone was happy. Alas! She didn’t last long either.

The long necked, out spoken, mischievous and slender boy never gave up. First his reactions to my rejections made that myself genuinely happy. Seeing his heart broken was a source of happiness to her. “See what you made me do” was her favourite song.

But one day, one fatal day, the day dawned following an election. She stayed overnight at Office just for the fun of it though it was a boring one. She had gone to sleep in a car at around six in the morning. She was slightly drunk, very much on party mode and obviously tired when he came and sat next to her at around seven thirty. He caressed her hair, tangled her hand in his and kissed the back of her palm several times as if it were some form of ritual without any permission.

It was a kind of act you would see in movies where the prince kisses a princess and she wakes up.

And I woke up through her cold heart and I felt the veins of my heart filling back with warm blood once again.

Her heart started beating again and here the present self was born. That’s when the trouble of new life followed. A beating heart was a strange phenomenon to me since it followed all kinds of feelings after almost one year. The overflown feelings were too much to be taken. The exhaustion,high levels of stress, anger and so on entered back to life but were overflown by love and newly found happiness. Trust me, it was not easy. Feeling nothing was easier to be dealt with than feeling everything at once. The newborn new me found it difficult to deal with the flush of emotions.

I was getting stuck in between stress and my body started reacting. The back of my nape would go numb and the muscles around my spine would cringe, I was short of breath not only while I was at work and close to 9 o’clock, even though I was home and chilling, just the opening theme of a different bulletin of the channel playing from a neighbourhood television got me under the bus. When taken to a doctor she diagnosed “chronic depression” in me and prescribed tablets which made me worse.

Days were numerous when I went to the bathroom to calm myself down and to tear up a bit to feel better. It worked until one day.

I was supposed to go and say good bye to him since he was leaving early. But I was such a mess inside, my head had gone wild, my hands were shivering and I led the way to the bathroom to calm down. I had to go and say good bye to him and I put a brave front to face the situation.

But my brave face melted away when he said good bye and turned to leave. He was the last hope I had on earth who understood what was happening to me and the thought of him leaving broke me down.I hugged him from behind and started weeping.

All I remember from the rest of the night were constant sobs, hardened fists, folded palms nails buried into them making them almost bleeding. Something was dragging me into somewhere and he who held my wrists tight was dragging me to the world of sanity. He had to force me swallow a sleeping tablet to make me sleep at last after feeble and helpless efforts to calm me down from a frantic attack and I remember him constantly checking me in sleep.

The next ten days were spent in a dungeon of constant panic attacks day and night, hours and hours in front an unknown Councellor, feeling like a sinner in front of Jesus, confessing all the sins I had committed, she thought I was very brave and strong and one fatal point broke me down.

When it was his turn to talk to the Councellor, who explained him how I should be looked after and deal with my attacks, I remember falling asleep looking at his long hair dancing to the rhythm of the wind as if to tell me he is full of energy and he could do it.

I don’t know what got me out of it. May be I’m slowly coming back to myself. I sincerely wish this self to stay just because swapping from one to other is exhausting. I have a slight hope the first self is returning because of the sudden urge I have to write.

But one thing, I don’t know how to end this and if I don’t end this here I’ll be writing this for the rest of my life. Therefore I force myself to stop here.

-ANF

Newsroom Chronicles

The come back… writing is hard you know

This is hard. Writing I mean. I haven’t written anything in a long time. Actually it is a lie. I write every day. Part of my job is writing news scripts. I do write. I do write what the President of the country said, about accidents, court cases or a special story with a hinge of my voice secretly hidden in it just because I have a set of self set ethics. Apart from that writing anything else has been rare, be it an Instagram description or a Facebook post.

What do I write now is the question. But what is clear is that I’m typing this out of urgency which has been the case throughout the life. I’m not the kind of writer who would draft a sketch, sit down to table with coffee and write. I always write in a haste, if I do, I do it frantically be it on a piece of newspaper or on the phone.

This is one such instance. Life has changed…drastically…over the years. The change has been so fast that I hardly find it possible to believe it.

Journalism is a rollercoaster, it’s a career which never bores you. It promises your levels of adrenaline to be at the highest at all levels, everyday. Of course there are days when not even a leaf doesn’t fall from a tree to make news. Such days are boring you know. But you never know when it hits the newsroom. So you need to be prepared all the time.


Journalism is not a job. It’s a lifestyle. It almost kills you on a daily basis but once you are alive before it, you are alive at the peak.

This was my dream job when I was a 14 year old kid. But Journalism is not a dream job, it’s not a very healthy one. It’s addictive. There’s a common trend of Journalists leaving the profession midlife looking for slower paced jobs to settle with families but they always come back in a few years.

And here I am. One and a half years old Journalist, rather a Broadcaster ready to unveil my crazy life. Something is pushing me, as always. To do this.

-ANF

The mirror of the night

Stuck in Time 

I don’t see the rising sun anymore

Nor do I see the setting sun

Love,

The breeze of morning, the drench of dew

Not anymore 

The cool of rain drops, the sweet of flowers 

Not anymore 

I’m dead inside : halted 

I know you are too

Dead inside : halted 

Stuck in time

Sun,rising, setting, you,me

Dew, raindrops, coffee,mornings,nights 

Not anymore

Prose

Soul by a brook and eglantines 

Have you ever known what it is like to have anxiety? Or depression? You think the constant pouring out of tears and the ache in the heart is anxiety or feeling uneasy before an exam? Or that feeling of insecurity towards life? No, anxiety is far more inexplicable and complexed and you hardly understand it yourself. 

After months of undergoing that stage of anxiety I write it down bravely,at last. My experience of anxiety or depression,or whatever unfortunate human experience that is. 

It was the month of Christmas, the office beautifully decorated with colourful wraths of plastic vine along the corridors,snowy white Christmas trees everywhere. It was that time of the year I had a long list of Christmas songs by Bonney-m and Michael Bubble were on my playlist. 

Later in the month I set out to my father’s birth house where all my cousins had gathered. It was that time of the year where the icy cold breeze runs through your skin and awakens you to an inexplicably sweet state of mind to embrace the Christmas Day.  Christmas hymns and decorations will in addition take you to your childhood where memories of such Christmas days are cherished.

Unfortunately it was not the case for me this year. However hard I tried to absorb happiness, I wasn’t happy,I wasn’t exited. The Christmas play list felt like a torture of mournful music. The colourful Christmas decorations annoyed me since they didn’t make the world ombré for me to hide in. All the darkest corridors of the roads were lit and didn’t let me dissolve with the darkness. 

More than everything I was feeling lonely. Among the hundreds of office mates,among the heap of work I had to do daily I was feeling empty. 

Whenever you are alone,there is this voice in your head which continuously talks to you. When you really express yourself verbally it’s the voice in your head that keeps talking and complain over the things you can’t voice. If you call this the subconscious,go ahead. 

I had lost the voice in my head. When I reached the shower after peeling off the fret of a busy day at midnight,it was dreadfully silent inside my head. No one talked to me back when I thought something. I would just say “hey, think something!” It never did. 

It never occurred to me that I wasn’t thinking at all. I just breathed and functioned but mentally something was absent. I also met with the bitter truth that I had lost interest in everything. Nothing could interest me. 

The deadliest thing was, my memories felt alien when I forcefully came across them. Myself in my own memories felt unrelated. My memories were like watching a movie and the girl in them wasn’t me. I never knew her. I never knew some people she used to know.  

My own memories scared me. 

I never cried though. 

I never told anyone. 

Until after some time I explained what I felt to my bestfriend who knew what I went through. She proposed counseling and believed some medicine would do. 

I never went there. I didn’t want to sound stupid I front of a total stranger and cry. I let myself heal by spending more time with family and writing my diary. 

I don’t know which cured me and brought my soul back to me. My soul had left me and habituated herself on an eglantine which had dewy vine and dwelled under a weeping willow tree by a brook. 

It was hard work to bring her back to my busy life and congested city where I am living. Yet I take a walk under the monsoon rains for a coffee shop and sit in silence whenever I can,or at least go to the folding shutter in the lunchroom which opens to the brine wind that sweeps through the ancient baira lake at the sunset to inhale the fading day and try to incorporate the beat of wondering clouds in my breath. 

 Just to make her happy. 

Prose

Hometown

My  hometown is where my home is,where my mother is,where my father is and where my sister comes to spend her weekend. Just like I do. I wasn’t born in my hometown. I was born in the next big town,in a big ladys’ hospital. My parents were living in a small house on a mountain when my mother was pregnant. She had come home when she was eight months pregnant with me.I was taken back to the home amongst mountains when I was just one month old. 

When I was one year old they came back home. To my home town. A small town just fifty metres away from the sea. I lived here until I was twenty one years old and i shifted to the capital of the country. And I am glad that I did. 

Now I come here once a week and spend my weekend. I go to the town which is small but comprises of half a dozen of buildings where you can buy anything you want to live comfortably. This town gets Sun baked by the evening. But also gets soothed by the marine breeze once the Sun is not that harsh upon it. 

“We need to go to the town. The festive season is nearby and the shops will be soon closed down for a couple of weeks” my mother tells me. 

So she goes to the market (along with comlaining myself). It is the hottest season of the year and I wear a knee length dress. I feel comfortable and kidish in it. 

Once we get down from the market,my mother rushes to the nearest shop and I follow her slouching. Two guys leaning to a car look at me and say “hi darling.!” 

Enraged,I stop and look at them. They look aghast at my unexpected reaction and slowly crawl back in to the car. 

I follow my mother into a grocery store where there are twenty or more varieties of rice and other grains along with all the necessary household items with big numbered discounts. 

An elderly,sunburnt woman enters the shop. Although she has enough space to reach the counter without harming me, she hits me with herself and carries herself ahead without even looking at me. 

I reach the furthest corner of the shop which is the safest. Then arrives a mother with a kid of most probably three years. She is dressed in a black leggin and a green t shirt which is in my opinion doesn’t look good in her. She is continuously complaining her mother about something and then she sees me,who is cornered and victimized just like her. Then she smiles with me, so do I. Then I make a pouting face and she does the same. While we are all smashed in the crowded shop her little head with extreme but soft curls brushes against my hand stopping my heart for a moment. For a young woman who is in a natural age of getting married and having a child,  the sentiments I get are totally justifiable. 

Once she has enough of the imitating game with me, she turns to her mother again and complains… “amma..I want to go home”

I naturally reach my mother and whisper “Ammi, I want to go home” in vain. 

In the evening when the Sun is setting from the nearby west coast of the country,  people in my home town are painted in orange sun rays. My grandmother used to call them “the sun rays of the dragon” 

I don’t seem to recall the faces of those who are painted with orange. Nor do most of them. People I know from my childhood have turned to shapes I don’t recognize anymore. May be I may have turned to a shape they can’t recognize too. 

They are walking on the road not very busily as I am used to see in the capital city. Some have stopped by the shop where hoppers are made and old friends who accidently meet are talking. 

Then several boys from the upper middle class who are better clad in clothes with lighter skin tones probably in the age of seventeen walk towards a gym while some others of the same age have gathered at a record bar.  

Our next destination is a supermarket which has the rest of what my mother wants. Since I remember we had run out of sanitary napkins I go to pick one. Being a busy girl who works for almost 12 hours a day, I haven’t had the oppertinity of noticing the latest brands and varieties of sanitory napkins that are in the market. Then a man passes me probably in an age of having a daughter who has the same requirement to buy them, stops and smiles at me. Smiles in a way I don’t understand. Not knowing whether I should be embarassed for the most natural thing that can happen to a girl or I should be feeling guilty for reaching for a product that is marked as taboo, I reach my mother again. 

“Ammi I want to go home” and think of a place that is nowhere.

Poetry

To that stupid guy

To that stupid guy

Who thought my smile

Few “good mornings” and

One dance meant love

To that stupid guy,

What made you think 

Behind my pretty smile 

Is someone you can love

To that stupid guy,

Why waste your time

Wondering around 

My neglctive eyes

To that stupid guy,

What made you think 

I have a heart that could 

Make you happy forever 

To that stupid guy,

I once loved someone 

Loved hard and lost myself 

In the darkness 

To that stupid guy,

Look away while you can

I might take your heart

And break it just for fun

To that stupid guy

Love someone human 

Someone who can love

I am not even a poet now

Prose

The rain and the soulless 

There is something scary about rainy days. Before the refreshing coldness and the dim darkness that encloses the world, you realize you are not alive anymore. You are not able to hide in the stark darkness that falls onto earth with the raindrops. Your anima is disclosed  but you apprehend you are soulless. You discern that you have lost your soul between being broken and having to stay alive and drag your life forward, you have lost your soul in a deep,dark place that is never known. You see the blurred reflection of your physique that is sans a soul. You see through the emptiness of a solid human being.

Then you grasp that you have been breathing which is necessary for the existence but you have been dead all this time. You know the meaning of your senior asking “the hardest thing is to understand what you are thinking right now,whether you are hurt or not” correct, I have been dead and dead people don’t have emotions.Yet I am glad I have a smile that can trick the world with the lie that I am happy and alive.

Rain can be scary because it enlightens the human emotions and make you sympathize the soulless existence. When the darkness chases there is nowhere you can hide. That is how the soulless hide under the sun and be exposed under the merciless rain.