That Woman…


I see a woman, bent over a pot of hot curry, stirring it, as she smells it to assess if the ingredients had come together. If it smells like a memory, it’s cooked right, she always says. She walks with a bounce around the house to the sound of soft soul music, setting the table and laying the plates. Her peaceful eyes gleam with wisdom, they reflect the peace within. She looks exactly like her mother did at her age, but she is nothing like her mother. There is contentment in her heart and joy in her soul. Her life is of her own making, she loves it to the last bit.

She pulls her fine, black hair back into a tight bun, as she checks on the curry, still brewing, smelling like Christmas eve at her grandparents’ house when she was a little girl. The evening is getting colder, she floats across her tiny cottage shutting the windows, drawing the curtains. There are a million stars in the sky, and every night you can watch them twinkle in a rhythm.

Supper is ready and the lights are lit. She looks beyond the gate, calling her dogs by their names. They come rushing, she can see their heads bobbing over the horizon, bringing with them a gust of energy and the chilly mountain wind. She raised them since they were babies, like her own children, growing up in front of her eyes, little by little, every day. They rush to their bowls which she fills with water. They drink it splashing it all over themselves and the floor, panting as they do.

There is beauty in tranquility.
There is bliss in finding it.


Ever loved a bigot?

In a world full of prejudice and bigotry, this post sums it all up.

See, there's this thing called biology...

Yes, we all have. If you’ve ever loved anyone, you’ve loved a bigot. We all have prejudices and biases, every one of us. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, it simply is what it is. The human brain tries to compartmentalize and classify data and one way we do that is with stereotypes. There are stereotypes about men, about women, about ethnicity, religion, about politics and ideologies. These are defense mechanisms related to our survival, not character defects.

Some people try to claim their bigotry is not really bigotry since it’s only directed towards racist-southern-bitter-small-town-bible-clingers. Or-prius-driving-vegan gluten-avoiding-hipsters. Baby boomers, millennials, Luddites, traditionalists, people with baggy pants who wear too much gold jewelry, or rabid right wingers. The truth of the matter is that not only are we all bigots, we may indeed be far more bigoted today. We’re overwhelmed with information, we’re forced to compartmentalize now more than ever.


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By The Sea


Our lives are full of commotion and chaos. We walk among the weak and tired. We feel the frustration as the winds of uncertainty constantly blow in and out of our lives. We hold on to the hope and the gratification we get in the little joys of life. We live, not survive, everyday.

I pride myself on being armed to deal with it all, all on my own. I like to stop for a while, in the silence of the night and be still. We have so much to think about, so much to deal with. We hoard so many emotions, so many questions in our heads, we need a time-out. I tend to sit by the sea and stare at the waters- sometimes turbulent, sometimes calm. That’s when I drown out the noise of the mundane world that exists behind me. In that moment, I have nothing to do with that world brimming with injustice and dirt; in that moment, I exist alone with the vast waters in front of me. The moon, the stars and all that exists beyond, is mine. The sound of the waves and the winds that carry them, is the melody that helps me unwind.

In that instance, that quiet time, I converse with the One above. How did I fare today? Did I do Him proud? Did I matter today? Did I stand out by being honest and fair? I unburden all that I hold against the world and learn to be a better person tomorrow. I reaffirm my faith in the good and promise to keep the hope, never to let it go.

These nights are the best part of my day. While others engage with one another at the sea-front, I form a bubble around me, even if for a little while. Till I turn around and face the world again.

What Caring Feels Like


Not too long ago my mother was severely sick and admitted in the hospital. She had to undergo a surgery. At the time, my relationship with her was strained to say the least, but you classify these issues as trivial in times of sickness. I was concerned about her, I wished she would return home healthy and in full swing. But I couldn’t go visit her in the hospital, and I know she still holds that against me. Those nude walls and the smell of disinfectants make me uneasy. When I look at a sleeping patient’s face, my brain tells me very masochistically, “This is what they would look like when they’re dead.” My mother’s all well now.

Recently, a very dear friend was admitted in a hospital, it was sudden. I went to visit him despite my aversion. I just wanted to see his face. I wanted to be brave. When I entered the ICU, he was under anesthesia, his condition critical. I called out his name. He didn’t wake up, didn’t respond. My mind started spurting disturbing thoughts. I tried to quieten them. The doctors asked me to shake him and try to wake him up. I couldn’t. I was afraid of the silence reinforcing that dreaded thought.

The next day he was awake. We spoke for a while. He looked better. But I couldn’t shake this ill feeling inside of me.

It is hard for me to get attached to people. But sometimes, some people happen to walk right through those walls. Hard times teach you lessons that you won’t learn otherwise. And sometimes these lessons are perceptions about yourself. Maybe those ‘ill feelings’ are these realizations- teaching me what it’s like to truly care about somebody.

Logical Fool


I have been having certain conversations with friends recently and my idea of how people reason is slowly being broken. Being a logical person, I assumed that most people think logically. I thought that emotional people, although I acknowledge their existence, are few in number. This might not be true, I’m learning. When I talk to these friends, they tell me about the problems they are facing in their lives, mostly relationship-wise. I tell them what I would do if I faced the problems they do. I tell them I would use my brains. The strange thing is that they agree with my version of the solution as being the right thing to do, but eventually, they can’t help but take decisions influenced by their emotions. And that annoys me. I think, ‘Why can’t they think rationally and stop being such emotional fools?’ (I love them, of course).

I don’t discredit emotions at all. They are a big part of defining us as human beings. We are only persuaded by logic but most of our decisions are based on emotions, consciously or sub-consciously. Logic tells us the reality but we act on our emotions. The logical thing to do at a friend’s party would be to greet people; how we extend that greeting- do we shake hands? Hug?- depends on our level of intimacy with the person. Emotions influence a lot of our decisions everyday, we don’t even realize it.

With that said, when it comes to problems, I believe that emotions should take to the back-burner. Emotions are temporary, the decisions you make in the moment of emotional weakness can leave you with a lot of questions and maybe even regret. On the other hand, there is no weakness in rationality. As a human I have emotional responses to everything too, but as a rational person, I know when to push it aside. That is what it means to be logical- knowing when to let your emotions guide you and having the power to know when to not.
I’m a minority, I’m aware.

Of Death


It is evident from my timeline that I haven’t written in a while. It is not a lack of inspiration that kept me away, but the constraints of time.

As ominous as the topic of death is, I have spent some alone time pondering about it. Death is a part of life, as Mrs. Gump would say, which is why it is sometimes mentioned nonchalantly over tea breaks and such. The discussion got a little serious when everybody started picking sides of the death they would prefer.

The ideal way to die.

For most people, the answer is the same- they want to die suddenly and instantly. Preferably in an accident, or while sleeping, or both. As painlessly as possible without agony.

I fall on the other end of the spectrum. I’m not an advocate of pain, but I’d like to leave on a deathbed, surrounded by the people who truly care about me. One could call it a traditionally fairytale way to bid adieu, but who doesn’t want a happy ending? I would want to look at their faces in my last few moments. I would want to forgive and ask for forgiveness, before I’m taken away- I’d like to leave with a clean slate. I would want to tell the people I love, that I love them and how much they mean to me, one last time. I want to say my last words, with all the wisdom of my life. I want to die being content. I want to embrace death making peace with life.

We’re All In This Together


With all the texting and IM-ing and photo-sharing and status updating that we do, I think we have forgotten the art of communicating offline. I can almost see people calling dibs on the corners of a room and sticking to them for as long as they have to endure the torture of forced socialization at a dinner party. The only comforting element that will keep them from having a panic- attack is the reassuring Wi-Fi/ Battery-full sign at the top of their mobile phone screens.

I am one of those people- guilty as charged.

Instead of asking for directions, I would open Google Maps. Instead of asking my colleagues about the best pizza place, I’d ask online, anonymously on a food website.  I would rather play Just Dance on Kinect than go to the gym and work out. My family has often called Google my best friend.

The funniest thing is that I’m not even socially awkward. The only thing I have in common with stereotypical nerds is that I wear glasses (sometimes). Technology brings out the worst in us not-so-extroverted kinds, socially. Put me in an unknown (read: awkward) social situation and I could convince you that I’m dating my phone.

Once upon a time, in a not-so-distant past, I would go days without involuntarily picking up my phone (until it rang, of course) to see if there was a message that I accidentally missed.

Don’t judge me, I moved to a sleepy new city, away from all my friends. What’s your excuse?      

So, dear World, I’ll bring mine and you do yours, and let’s give each other company- one like at a time.


P.s. To the 50(!) people who are following this inconsistent blogger- THANK YOU!