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4 AM on an uneventful Thursday

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4am on an un eventful Thursday
The alarm didn’t go off
There is no pressure to wake
so, I lay there feeling calm as a lake As if by chance came a vision of some sort
Didn’t feel like dream
Or that’s what I thought I saw myself decorating the Christmas tree
The one in my living room
Away from myself and felt free
sitting on the couch I watched the scene
A moment so rare and serene Its only fitting
I call him he
he looked different,
Far from glee
Thinning hairline, curves and hazed face
like he is stuck in a fricking maze

He bent down and picked up a red star
Tied it neatly with a string
Placed it right at the top
Perfection seemed to be his goal
Why is he so serious screamed the soul? I took a good look at him
The path he travelled
The difficulties he overcome
The gloomy days that went by 
The crooked lines and sagging eye Engulfed in the sight so rare
I sympathised with him
He is supposed to be happy
He has everything and someone to care He fought good,
But didn’t love enough
He worked hard
But didn’t retire…

To the senstive self

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Unchaining a Tree

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Someone told me that writer’s block is basically the imaginary friend not willing to talk to the writer. If this is the case I think I lost mine, or perhaps he wandered off to a land where writing is as effortless as a waterfall or a sunrise.  And this post is my call, my ode and my plea for his mercy to come back to me.

Every morning I take a 30-minute bus drive to work, through a freeway which is mostly surrounded by trees with little or no buildings of any sort. It is very calming journey. Except the humming sound of the bus, there is no other noise. In fact, it is kind of soothing to travel with that sound, it makes no sense and forms a background music to my thoughts. Morning sun plays with shadows on the floor and people are usually quiet, either scrolling through their phone or sleeping. 

On these journeys, I either meditate, read or simply gaze through the window on the passing by sight with contemplation. I also make mental notes on the changes to the landscape, like a construc…

Raagi seeds from the loft

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“Where are all the Golu Park dolls?”, I asked my mom over the quiet lunch.  “enda kanna. It  must be on the loft”,  she looked at me curiously. Without waiting for my reply she continued “Do you want me to pack that so you can take it Singapore? “. That was a lovely gesture I thought. She understood that I missed Golu and I might be interested to have them. Only she could understand me without much words. “Nothing ma, just wanted to see them” 
( pic courtesy : Google )
After lunch I managed to get on the big stool made specially to access loft, and like a director of a movie, she guided me to the location among boxes of stuff. Golu is a 9-day festival where we adorn the home with beautiful mud idols of god. Park is basically a miniature village usually set up around Golu on sand. Its decorated with plastic houses, trees, villages, trains etc. “ Paathu kanna there is so much dust, why don’t you wear a kerchief mask, you are allergic to dust “ she raised her usual concern. 
There it was, my…

Toilet door, 5$ Race & Uber Smiles

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You know the embarrassing feeling when you open the door to the toilet at the same time as another person. Don’t swear on me yet, I guess the next worse thing is Looking directly into the eyes of stranger for more than 2 second. I say up to 1 second is still acceptable for Singapore. 
So this happened to me, when I pooled in an Uber cab (BTW its just 5$) on my way to work. I was upset about a problem with my living situation and was banking loads of anger, ready to snap anytime. Which is why I avoided conversation with fellow passengers. We stopped at the traffic light and my gaze fell on the construction truck next to us.Behind the truck was array of workers presumably on their way to work. If you have lived in Singapore, for longer than expiry date of bananas, you have witnessed this for sure.
From the crowd who were catching up on their sleep, he looked right back at me. To my shame it lasted longer than 2 seconds. He had a dark serious face with thick beard and mustache with thin …

Note to Thyself : Carry an Umbrella

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They say when you pray for rain, have enough faith to carry an umbrella... but what if your faith is wavering? Perhaps your umbrella may be broken or you are so tired to even carry yourself out yet alone an umbrella. Perhaps you are scared to show your umbrella to people who might ridicule your faith. All said and done you knew in your heart that if you could make yourself carry that umbrella with unwavering faith, it would rain. I am here right now at the path way to my future and all that follows this statement is conversation to thyself.


When it’s not my time  

I remember the trip I always wanted to take. Money, was always the main concern. However when I stumbled on that advertisement from the travel company offering a package tour at 50% slash rate, I found a different excuse. I convinced myself that I don’t have enough holidays left. God listen to my prayers and she bought that advertisement to me. The time was right, perhaps I wasn't ready.

When I have given up trying.

I hear…