Distanced

My life has mainly been about satisfying the urge to constantly create something new. People like me cannot live without creating regularly. Money is not the only driving force for creative pursuits. This constant battle with finding time to create is something everyone may not understand. Just going to an office and completing your hours for a pay cheque that defines your worth is far less satisfying than a freshly written poem that started out as a thought and became a long verse, a chapter sieved out from handwritten notes or an idea for the next artwork or the ‘ Eureka’ moments in designing the next product...

To maintain this balance is not an easy task. Of work that brings creative satisfaction and the work that brings good money. More often, they do not come together as a package. I could juggle these in my twenties. In my thirties, my children were the biggest priority, so I compromised my expectations from work and life in general. But now, in my forties, I am not able to compromise on things I cannot agree with.

Balance is needed more than ever before. No questions, no explanations, no validation. I need to focus on what I enjoy and derive self worth from it. Responsibilities have been taken and fulfilled for all these twenty years. Now its my time to give myself some benefit of doubt.

I am tired of explaining my side of the story, mostly to my inner self that demands this rule book! I always feel my mother would have understood all this, if only she was here. She spent her whole life justifying the same to those typical 'inside the box' people or those who have absolutely nothing else in their lives to hold onto except for their own over rated idea of a full time job.

I just feel like switching OFF and going into isolation mode. I am bored of maintaining these long distance relationships with almost everyone! I guess working from home does that to you. Also, this idea of everything being online seemed cute in COVID times, but these chat groups do not feel like a connection anymore.

There is a family group that is mostly meant for wishing people on their birthdays and on festivals. Yes, it helps keeping a connection in the simplest way possible for digital relationships. But is anyone really interested in wishing each other well these days? Or even remembering birthdays? An ‘HBD’ and a heart emoji are all that’s left. This brings longing and expectations that are left unfulfilled, because my mother would always be the first one to wish people on their birthdays with nice personalized long messages and blessings. I miss those so much...not just for me but especially for my children.

There are school-mothers groups which can become pretty stressful at times or of no use on actually important occasions.

There are school groups and college groups that came together in the pre- COVID times, through wonders of the WhatsApp. They felt amazing in those times because of how everyone from that particular batch came together through a smart phone and got to know everything about each others lives from the past ten years. But now its only for ‘forwards’ and politics.

The ones you think were genuinely interested in conversations, turns out are not after they react with just one thumbs up for something that deserves a dialogue.

Then there are extended family groups that make you feel if there is any importance left any more in sharing anything that is remotely personal ?

This digital relationships trend peaked around 2020 when sharing was what everyone did. It felt happy then. But now it doesn't.

I am finding it hard to see the whole point in maintaining these formal digital relationships with everyone. There is always something that gets lost in translation. I prefer my solitude over these kind of interactions.

I am beginning to lose interest in the concept of friendships these days. Even close-friends groups don't really feel soulful anymore.   I long for days when we used to just show up at friend’s houses unannounced and ended up having a great time. Now its always about planning the next “meet” years in advance. And when it finally happens, it doesn't feel as emotionally satisfying as I would have liked it to be!

I want a break from all long distance digital relationships. I want only real interactions. But I want real satisfaction from them as well. I don't know if this is even possible.

My mind always crawls back into that void that my mother left behind. The depression only fades. It never completely goes away. Its a knot of insecurity etched forever in the mind or heart or throat or gut or stomach...it moves around the body looking for an anchor. I don't know if I will ever stop feeling “ that feeling”, which makes me pace around the cold floors of the house, from one room to the other, looking for something, which I have never found yet...

Interchangeable

Will you accept yourself,
empty -handed
as respectfully, as when in abundance?

Can you gracefully navigate
opposing thresholds,
with the same self-regard, without a doubt?

Who am I, when I am vacant
on this lyrical journey
of hits and misses…

Work and no work,
of the tired yet inspired Architect and
the relaxed yet worried Poet.

Being the leader or being led?
Taking care of or taken care of?
Up and running or in calm contemplation?

Dancing light, like no one’s watching,
Or heavy and bleeding,
eating the heart out in bed?

Can I carry upon my shoulders,
two opposite banks of the river
and still balance a steady flow?

Will I douse my inner fire
with a newfound zen
of the deepened mind?

When I am not the Warrior,
I shall become the Yogi.

For when I am not working,
I am working …

on myself!

#withouttitles #whoami #interchangeable #workandnowork

Uncaged

This was a bird
who walked into a cage,
naively, on her own,
and chose to stay there.

The doors of her confines
had always been open.
Yet, she never dared to step out,
or even tried to flap her wings.

No one to stop her, but her apathy,
gripped with fear and ignorance.
She never cared to taste
what waited right at her doorstep.

Many caged birds continue to sing
desperate songs of freedom,
but the uncaged bird
knew not how to sing!

She had never stretched her wings,
nor learnt how to use her voice.
Too comfortable in her mediocre existence,
she had wasted her prospect of flight.

A never-opened mind to possibilities,
is an ignored chance of empowerment.
For the prison of fearfulness and inaction,
is far too thick a trap to break.

Which bird are you?
Have you ever questioned the pattern?
Are you brave enough to break the rules
to knock down generational karmic shackles…

:: This poem questions all those women who choose a mediocre existence over empowerment. They come from an educated family, a free country, with no restrictions. They can wear whatever they wish and step out of the house at will. They get many opportunities to become a better version of themselves. Yet, they choose to be lazy, inactive , do nothing special and just waste their time in a worthless journey of financial dependence.

After many such typical uncaged women in every family of repetitions, once in a generation, comes one different young woman from a contrasting background - the rule breaker, who questions and changes regressive family patterns forever!

Unveiled

Radiant, shining, bright.
She looked dazzling that night.
Blushing in a reddish gold sari
like a newly wed bride.

But the wicked darkness cast an evil eye
and trapped her in a thick black spell.
She prayed in silence
for the dense fog to unveil.

Soon the veil began to shift
from one phase to the other.
Her shine was still intact,
but unrevealed to the world.

As the long cursed hour passed,
from childhood to youth
then motherhood to mid life,
all stories flashed across her eyes.

When times are uncertain,
one needs to stay calm and pause.
Our aura isn't all lost,
It's only under wraps.

Blurring the lines
between what truly exists
and what can be perceived,
is an eclipse, waiting to lift.

And when that closed door slides open
our old vibrant self
will rise again in the vast sky
to glow like the full moon!

:: Inspired by the Lunar Eclipse on the night of September 7th. :: 

#lunareclipse #celestialwonders #quiethappinesstasha #takeapause 

The Concept of HOME

In childhood days, when my sister and I would walk back from the sports ground in the evenings, our mother would show us birds in the orange sunset sky. She would say, "Look at the birds going home in the evenings.” It was a comforting statement , which in an unknown way was sowing the seeds of a strong belief in my head.

Even now, whenever I am walking home or driving home or cycling home in the evening, out of habit I look at the sky and I see the birds going home as well. That makes me happy.

My mind is conditioned to think that when the day is done, when it's evening, I must go home. I cannot stay out of home after evening. I feel a strong current that pulls me homewards. And that's why, for me, it's almost impossible to work late. Going home on time is my emotional NEED.

This feeling has something to do with one’s childhood home. I am someone who has had immense attachment to my childhood home, with my cozy bedroom that I shared with my sister, the garden with amazingly full grown trees, the balcony with jasmine climbers, our cats, the water tank with guppy fish, in which we would dip our feet, the chickoo tree with branches leading to the balcony, the cold stone floors, sun rays filtering through the staircase windows, secret hiding places in my grandparents room …everything about that stone bungalow, has a special connection.

It's such memorable elements related to the house from our childhood that create the concept of “home” in our brains, I guess.

However, this is something my partner does not really comprehend. During our dating times in college days, when it was slightly late in the evening, I would say, “I need to go home now”. But I never sensed any strong feeling in his mind that would ever pull him to his own house. Of course it has to do with how his own home from childhood was… did he have enough space that he could call his own? Did he have a connection with a bedroom that took him to dreamland?

Everyone carries the baggage of diverse childhoods, upbringings, dissimilar cultural backgrounds that instill a strong ( or insecure) feeling of home in our minds. Some people, in fact, are taught to leave home to chase dreams that aren't necessarily their own, to earn more and more money and never look back to get tied down…

In reality, wherever we go, in our minds all of us continue to live in our childhood homes. It hurts me to realize the confined idea of space in his mind.  He can sleep on any bed of any size, any couch and snore as loudly as he does on our bed! The concept of home and space in his head is just the opposite of what is in mine!

I carried my special home feeling with me when I moved to Abu Dhabi after getting married. It's mostly the mother who instills that warm comforting feeling of “home” in her children’s minds. Given our different mindsets, it became all the more important for me to set up a feeling of permanence for my children in our house, especially in this transit country where most people settle only for a few temporary years.

I worked hard to recreate memorable home elements for my boys…something that I deeply cherish while my husband does not even identify with that need!

Just a few days ago, during this summer break I asked my grown up boys, if they have this unseen alarm embedded in their minds, like I do, that starts ticking, telling them to rush home in the evening if they are out of the house for a long time? Is there something that pulls them homewards? Do they miss their bed and their bedroom if on a longer vacation, especially to India? They admitted, they do! I am so relieved to hear that! So in a way, I have probably passed on that feeling to my boys. And I think I have been successful in explaining the importance of this concept to my husband as well...

When the parents come from totally different cultural backgrounds and upbringings, it's difficult to find what is really important to be passed on to the next generation… This feeling of “home” and being drawn homewards is very important for me to feel secure and confident. My childhood home has shaped my personality. I don't think I would be into art and poetry if it weren't for that setting that I grew up in and that reassuring feeling of home.

I just hope the emotion is similar for my boys where they draw inspiration, comfort, security and love from the beautiful space called HOME, created and decorated together by their architect parents!

The scene from the title track for the comedy series 'Simpsons' has stayed in my mind, where all the family members rush home in the evening, from different places and finally crash on that one big sofa in front of the TV. That's my ideal beginning of the weekend that spells HOME AT LAST!

#conceptofhome #quiethappinesstasha #homeiswheretheheartis #lovehome 

:: A bit of Bali at HOME ::

Quietude

Four white-eared Bulbuls were having an important discussion in the garden this morning. Two of them, perched upon the edge of the birdbath and the other two hovering in mid air, circling around occasionally, trying to make dramatic performances!

They continued to debate endlessly, while the pair of laughing doves on the parapet wall heaved a hooting sigh and finally gave up on their turn at sipping the cool waters.

I was waiting in stillness next to the slender armed graceful olive tree that was creating dancing shadows on the sun-washed white walls. The garden needs to be watered, I pondered, before the already harsh sun rises higher up in the dust-lined summer noon sky, casting a blinding spell.

When I am in the garden, I wonder, am I not supposed to be working at this time… When I am at work, I miss being home at odd hours to witness the dialogue that happens between the flora and the fauna.

Not everyone will understand why one chooses to take a healing break for themselves from time to time. The bulbuls, I felt, were actually cheering for me and supporting my life decisions!

The birds kept gossiping . I watched them silently… just grateful for such ironical quietude Life gives us, by serendipity.

Solitary events, crafted coincidentally, completely ours to be savoured deliberately. It's in such still moments, collaged together, that Life compiles the mixed tape of unsung melodies.

#summerbreak #healyourself #creativehibernation #findyourzen #quietude 

:: My Zen garden and the Birdbaths:: 

My Glimmers

I would always realise some moments in a day that would calm me down, bring inner joy and peace and make my heart sing. I did not know about ‘glimmers’ until I read a psychological article recently - - - ‘A glimmer is the exact opposite of a trigger—it is some kind of cue that brings one back to a sense of joy or safety. In our overstimulated worlds, glimmers can be the answer to regulating our overwhelmed nervous systems.’

From the beginning of this new year, I have let the Wind take charge of my life. To go with the flow. Accept new challenges that come along the way. I have taken that bold step towards a new beginning to see where I find myself towards the end of this year.

My life last month and my life this month are a totally different story. Somewhere that excites me, but at the same time, it scares me as well. It’s not easy to fit everything you’ve always loved into a much stricter schedule. Whenever we step out of our comfort zone in search of an upgraded life, Time is never on our side. It's either Time or Money. And that’s exactly how discovering these glimmers each day, each week become the pacifiers that help me look at the larger picture of life.

Watching the sunrise, feeling the warmth reaching deep inside my body, making every piece shine.

Discovering new flowers in my garden, the vines looking greener and denser, smiling to myself, I’ve taken good care of the garden.

A pair of laughing doves quenching their thirst in the bird bath full of floating pink bougainvillea flowers.

The neighbour’s cats walking on the parapet wall, owning our terrace!

Watching my children play outdoors and suddenly realising, they’ve grown taller.

Remembering my cat, Rumi, slept in shapeless ease on the sofa when I would come back from work, cuddling her, waking her up and watching her awesome yoga stretches.

Kris is already home, before I reach and ‘just poured’ hot tea is waiting for me. Aby is cleaning his football boots, very neatly and keeping them in the right place. Ary is studying for his Psychology test and seems to know much more than me in this subject. These are my magic beans!’ My Glimmers.

When God plays his card of time, we must learn to live in moments. I am learning this every minute of this new month, hoping to add more to my list of Glimmers, experiencing many familiar ones each week, trying to live life in a slow peaceful pace between two hurried blinks!

I found one this morning, when a fearless parrot visited the terrace and watched me water the plants! I’m still smiling. He gave me a great pose!

Let’s go, Wind! Let’s catch new glimmers!

Wings of Stone

Our flight most times
is weighed down, delayed,
by the emotional luggage
we carry on our shoulders.

The heavy black handbag
full of ‘what-if’ obsessions
and ‘just -in -case’ compulsions,
wants more than it needs…

Wings are spread wide open,
but why do they feel so heavy?
Like the elephant’s tusks,
well flaunted, yet defunct.

While I want to celebrate
life’s gifts and little wins,
It's the losses that stab
and keep holding me back.

Each year is a mixed bag - - -
of opposites, that sit together, chitchatting.
Hits that lift up to cloud nine;
Misses that bring us down to the earth.

In the end, the mind has gone
on a yearly tour
and returned,
to the exact same starting point.

For the one who loses his way in the morning,
but comes home by evening,
is not lost after all…
Just a year older, perhaps wiser!

:: Sutjeska Memorial, Bosnia & Herzegovina ::

We are ALL Responsible...but are we?

They just barged into the community garden one fine morning and cut down some trees, removed the grasses, and killed all the flower beds in the name of “refurbishment” and “general maintenance”...

The birds who had their nests in those trees have lost their eggs. They fly around trying to find a suitable place to rebuild. The cat who used to run around, climb trees, and jump in the grasses was stressed and confused. Where's the planter she pooped in? There’s just mud everywhere. What happened to the garden?

If someone murders a garden in the name of renovation, what happens to the entire ecosystem that thrives on it? Birds, cats, insects…who cares about them? It's high time we stop normalizing these urban activities in the name of “development”.

Who is responsible for all the lost animals and birds? All they care about are paint flakes, steel pipes and waterproofing membranes. What about the soil enriched with live insects? What about the planters with flowers , the butterflies flitting around them? What about the laughing doves, who stopped laughing? It's not funny! Someone destroyed the garden and people around it are expected to continue living “normally”??? The cats have left the compound. There are no more dancing shadows of the trees on pathways. No more ‘red carpet welcome’ of the Jatropha flowers. No more ‘frangipani fest’ of my most loved Plumeria trees. No more barefoot walks on the grass. No more yoga, hide-n seek or badminton in the garden. Everything has to pause till they finish all the work…My favourite almond tree with red leaves is no more. The bulbuls have lost their home. I tried to save the frangipani I planted two years ago into a large planter for it to be replanted later in the same spot after the repair works are done, with a hope that it will survive the next few months in this make-shift arrangement. Does anyone else care? Is this a maintenance contract or contract killing!

The other day I heard, a school trip had gone to the “zoo” where the seals clap their hands in front of a gang of giggling gadget-held school kids. They are taught to believe, this is all “normal”! Watching another “sea world” inside a big mall, they are told, is perfectly normal!!!

Is it “normal” for tourists to expect getting “snow” inside a mall in the desert? Since when is chopping down full grown trees to deal with waterproofing issues considered “normal”? Is this what “developed” nations look like? Let's discuss this “environmental issue” sitting inside a tall air conditioned glass tower. Let's invite delegates with their private helicopters and planes to throw some light on these “earth issues” Let's make a fancy summit for social media! Wow! One million “likes”! Problem is solved!

We are taught to believe we are privileged to live here? Ironically, we are the “ landscape architects” of such masterplans! I would definitely prefer living in a village to this kind of pseudo development! Cutting down large trees is not acceptable. Disturbing any garden environment should not be allowed. No wonder all the “Rumis” who loved the gardens so much are running away in search of greener pastures… but all they find are more and more concrete jungles and blinding bright lights!

We have to ask the question to those “Environment Protection Acts”, how come approvals are not required before mercilessly chopping off mature trees even in private developments? For every slaughtered tree, there should be two new ones planted. Isn't that the rule?

Does anyone take note of the disruption to flora and fauna? Who is responsible for broken bird nests and lost cats? We are all responsible…but are we really “responsible”?

I Am...

I am a flowering tree,
and I bloom with sunlight.
But is it your closed dark mind
that needs the light of truth?

You are the big stone in a stream
held by helpless yes-men around you.
I am that playful gush of water.
Does my free flow shake your existence?

I am the wind of change,
you're scared to open the window for…
Lest it may uncover insecure demons
snaking inside you…

The mirror of reality,
you've been avoiding for long…
Show it to the grumpy man-child inside
that sits sulking and stomping his feet.

My beliefs, firmly rooted in this earth
may crush the walls of your fiefdom!
The mind’s canvas is much larger…
with ideas, too big for your caged mould.

I am! I am! and I will be...

:: In this work world full of ego-centric male chauvinist "Bosses", surrounded by their yes-men, its difficult being an independent minded woman with strong beliefs. He habitually said, "Everything is Important", but I say nothing is more important than respect and job satisfaction! 

If I don't even have the freedom to open the studio curtains for allowing the right amount of sunlight on my work desk, then definitely its not the right work environment for any Landscape Designer!!! Its ironic to find the desk plants droopy-leaved, dull and yearning for sunshine in a Landscape Architectural Office!!! Its our basic right to sunlight!(especially when its abundant in this part of the world!!!)

It can never be a Yes and No! 

There's no point in continuing in a place that does not allow me to be myself, breathe and bloom freely!  THE END for now... or is it...a new beginning!::

#toallmalechauvinists #workworld #workingwomaninamansworld #swimmingagainstthecurrent #daretobedifferent #worklifeimbalance #goodriddance #dowhatyoubelievein #worstworkenvironment

#worstjobsofar #saynotoinjustice #dontbeaslave

The Mind Vase

How was I ever going to find
all those broken fragments 

that fell apart
from the fragile vase of my mind…

Scattered into a million shards,
Confidence and Belief
drowned deep in the ocean’s belly…
Courage got carried away
in a stormy gust through sands.

It has taken me years.
to collect all the lost parts,
and glue them back in place,
with new ways to seal the cracks.

Stitch them with gold
from the wisdom of age...
Paint some with Patience,
Hope and Dreams.

My mind is now
a rustic Kintsugi vase!
Celebrating beauty of the broken
with a golden repair…

Shining scars reveal growth
and remind me of strength from loss.
Nonetheless my heart fears,
alas, it may shatter again…

Sunny Side Up

At sunset hour, on a lazy Friday, I look out from my balcony to the horizon. I love how the sun drenched facades of the buildings shimmer in the golden light. I wish to be right there, soaking up the sunshine.

I see the Zaafarana park down below. Fresh green grass, with sun rays filtering through the branches of the Ghaf trees. I wish I could just fly down and land on my toes exactly on that sunlit spot.

I quickly change into my sports clothes and trainers, to catch that magic show. But somehow by the time I reach there, the magic witnessed from the balcony is nowhere to be found.

Similarly, as I drive past those same sun-facing buildings on some evenings when I drop my son to football, I decide to stop by and feel the sun’s warmth on my skin. But again, the charm of the balcony view is lost.

Isn't it the same with most things in life, I wonder! Everything that looks attractive and shiny from a distance, may not be as exciting when you go close enough to touch it! We spend so much effort and energy trying to run after such seemingly phenomenal moments, when in reality they can just be calmly dealt with at our own pace. Some things are best experienced from far, giving them the correct space and a comfortable distance.

I have come to realise now, sometimes it's just better to be a spectator than trying to be the artist or the director, so as not to spoil the beauty of a rare naturally magical moment, with its sunny side up!

Where do old birds go to die...

A few months ago, one old laughing dove came to my garden in the morning. He seemed very thirsty. We generally get a lot of laughing doves to sip on the cool waters of the bird bath. This one looked particularly pensive. I watched him from my window. He drank water and then crawled quietly under the raised decking of the zen garden. I thought he wanted to rest in the shade, so I postponed watering the garden to leave him undisturbed. 

After a few hours, my cat woke up and lazily walked into the garden, stretching out and yawning at every step. She began sniffing suspiciously under the decking. I ran outdoors to save the bird from our “serial killer hunter tigress”. But the bird seemed to be still asleep. He wasn't moving at all !!! 

I remembered him drinking a lot of water earlier that morning …And at that moment, I realised he had been sipping his last water. He had breathed his last…He came to my garden to go into deep slumber forever…

I secretly buried him later that day  in one of the flower beds of the community garden. I did not tell anyone. Somewhere I thought, a bird dying in my garden could be a bad omen. 

Where do old birds go to die? This line from the book “The Ministry of Utmost Happiness” by Arundhati Roy, had made me go into quiet contemplation for many days.

And then I realised, the old bird came to my garden to die… He felt comfortable, breathing his last, closing his eyes for the last time , in the soothing shades of my garden! I watched him lay unmoving on the moist bed of soil and leaves. 

I  have had many great memories with laughing doves in this place. A pair had their nest on the terrace of my earlier penthouse. They have even made an appearance in my book, Amaira, the little woman, posing for one of the pictures that compliment a poem! 

I have also watched many laughing doves stop laughing when they were caught by my extremely agile cat. I have seen them being dragged around , hanging out of her blood stained mouth. , with their feathers falling one by one. While I cannot blame the cat for her natural instincts, I was relieved that this dove at least wasn't murdered.  

So when death seems near, just like us humans, old birds try to fly to a calm place, where they feel comfortable to let it all go. He passed away silently, peacefully in his favourite spot. I'd like to believe that. 

Rest in peace, you laughing dove.

Keep laughing.

:: As featured in my book , Amaira, the little woman ::
 

:: Illustrated by my son Abhiir when he was 6 ::

The Unlived Life

A few weeks ago, my son very casually exclaimed, you never laugh these days…You’re always worried. When I had to go to the dentist, he said, “Your jaw seems very tight. Don’t you smile enough”, he joked! These statements seemed light on the surface but had an underlying deeper meaning. Something I wasn't happy with had started showing on my face.

To be a good designer, one must be a sensitive human being. Being sensitive does not mean being emotional. It means to sense things around us. To be observant. To look with our heart and feel with our eyes.

Landscape design cannot happen sitting inside tall glass buildings. As landscape architects, we need to get in touch with nature. We work with living elements and we design livable spaces for living beings!

It's from here that the road forks and asks us to make a decision. One is a natural mud path lined by grasses and trees, with birds singing often and butterflies fluttering about freely towards the creative side. The other promises to “climb the ladder”, wearing the uniform of the collared white shirt , formal black pants and running shoes, hurriedly in an ever-stressed mode towards that race where everyone is running. Where? Why? No-one wants to know.

As we sit behind a wall of multiple computer screens, armored by headphones and keyboards, discussing one square inch of landscape somewhere inside a mall in a far off country, let’s not forget to water that little plant sitting meekly in a pot by our desk! Let’s talk to each other and share our emotions. Let’s be human again and not racehorses who don’t even know where the finish line leads to.

Do we like that doctor who does not examine us anymore, but just continues to type into his computer screen, confirming the prescriptions from google?

Let’s start believing in acquiring knowledge. Just stop running for a while and look behind. Am I running just because everyone else is running? Where have I come from? Where do I wish to go? What we choose to do for a living is a means to an end and not the end itself. It’s time to rethink and to reset.

Deep down in our hearts, we all know what our role is to play in this universe. It's not for no reason that I strive to find time to pen down my thoughts and doodle away my daily woes. If you think you are different, then dare to wander away from the flock and find your own freedom. It's time to snatch the opportunity!

Its time to question everything that takes away our creative freedom…our need to make something beautiful…our chance to see some order in this chaos.

All these days I was trying to find my old comfort on this crisp new chair. But I guess one needs to adjust or accept what comes their way, or then have the courage to challenge it and change it!

A frozen moment of freedom is like a pause between two chapters. I want to enjoy that instant where I can escape responsibility and just bathe in the essential oils of the NOW. It's only when we are ready to release what we think isn’t for us, can we truly embrace the rainbow of Life’s hidden gifts.

There is always a way to be good again. I want to go back to myself. I want to live the unlived life!

I am keeping my diary open and inviting destiny to come over for a relaxed cup of tea, to write something new for me. Something that was always meant for me and is seeking me as well.

#unlivedlife  #freedom # dosomethingnew #quittheratrace #innerpeace #selflove 

Everything is Fine

I miss getting carried away.

Time isn't waiting for me these days.

I skip my inward indulgence,

the afternoon sun keeps nudging me.

Take a pause.

Let us live the simpler life again.

My lashes long 

for distant distractions.

Birds and blooms 

remind me, its evening.

A brisk walk seems weighed down 

by woes of daily life.

Yet, everything is fine

I tell myself...

#stressfuldays #worklifebalance #whatyoureallywant #timetorethink

A Home without Her

Sniffing for hints of her fragrance,
holding on to the coarse blanket,
on that sobbing monsoon night
I lay alone on the creaking bed,
that dreams no more…

Peeling paint flakes on cobwebbed ceilings
carry a frozen time frame forever.
Life has silently tiptoed ­
out of the door,
leaving behind the dust of memories.
They line up like red ants
one after the other waiting to prick
the soft inner parts of me,
that haven’t rehearsed to harden up yet.

I hear the pink Champa flowers,
awake at dawn, as they fall noiselessly
on the lonely balcony floor.
Hoping to be handpicked,
arranged with love,
I keep them in a vase
to accompany the weeping window.

On cold stone-hearted backyard steps,
as I sip on warm coffee from her old mug,
my childhood home in its past glory
calls me out to play once more.
I go there, with a silent promise…
to be back again
and again...

for the little that's left behind...

:: However hard it may be to confront my childhood home where my mother lives no more, my sister and I will keep visiting the place for everything that is left behind. Our home needs us now, more than ever before! ::

 

 

Handpicked

Handpicked,
piece by piece,
all broken parts
of myself.
Silently,
ardently,
put together again,
to look just like me.
Yet on the inside

still scattered...

Tea with Sunset

I have always liked my tea hot, freshly made and with the right amount of rich creamy milk. The current times have at least given me the liberty to enjoy my afternoon cup of tea on my terrace, just before sunset. Sipping my hot tea, watching the winter sunset against the calming blue sky has somehow become very important for my day to feel complete. 

But I look forward to the event so much , that more often than not, I end up spoiling its perfectness. Sometimes, I feel like imagining the act is more dreamy than the actuality of the event! Because in reality, we never get it right. Each day, one of my boys asks me a “ very important question” exactly while I am about to add the magical final touches to my ‘wannabe perfect’ tea and then it all collapses like a row of fragile card houses, it took so long to arrange neatly! 

And then this winter sun! Just give me ten minutes to be ready with my tea cup and sit peacefully while ‘His Highness” begins the “magic show”, the whole world is crazy about. Before I step out from my kitchen to the terrace, he has already gone!... vanished mid air under the Hudayriyat bridge. It's only 5.40 pm! I mean if it's supposed to be the ‘good weather winter’ in the desert, at least give us a longer evening to enjoy it! In the hot harsh summer, “His Highness” seems to be in no hurry and is seen loitering around the horizon till 7.30pm!

There goes my perfect peaceful cup of tea with a sprinkle of sunset. My life in the time of Corona so far has been exactly this! Striving for THAT cup of tea, chasing THE sunset! 

Will this hide-n-seek ever get over? Somewhere, we all wish that 2021 will arrive with a magic wand! The truth is, our expectations of “that” cup of tea and “the” sunset might just have to change!

~ One Thousand and One COVID Complaints! ~

What Feet Couldn't...

Weary eyes rinsed,
in sparkling mountain streams.
Heaps of long-listed worries,
sifted with a faraway breeze.

Crowded ears plucked out,
hung up high with treetop tunes.
Tingling taste of a new song,
now plays upon parched lips.

Cloistered breaths allowed to run free
through fields of lavender and jasmine.
Strained fingertips immersed,
in eager warmth of paint and ink.

How thirsty senses have learnt to explore,

what tied up feet couldn't!

Once upon a Time

Secrets of the ocean,
with a taste of sea water,
the fish in a bowl recalls...

The touch of wind,
upon sun-kissed wings,
a trapped bird longs for...

A trimmed bush,
sits pretty by the window,
forgetting her wild bloom.

Once upon a time, 
we were free!
And we didn't realize its worth...

I search for,
a whiff of fresh air,
in between two anxious breaths.

Like tigresses in the circus,
how we become "hunger artists"...
unable to hear, our own roar!


#lifeinthetimeofcorona #apartofmewantstofly