People say that people don’t change, which of course, is preposterous. I will admit that getting there is a series of missteps, false starts, false middles and shaky continuums. But if a person does something to surprise you one day – just once – there is change in that. The absolute beauty of the the thing is when they never repeat it. Because from time to time we have to remind ourselves that we are human and that change is a process we haven’t quite wrapped our heads round yet. I have spent the better part of two years trying to change three things in my life. I am now so changed from the person I was back then , I am only now slowly trying to come to terms with it. But would you believe it? None of the things I focused on changing have moved even a little bit in any direction…

It’s the focus on these three though that did the other things, I think.


Dreams III

The alchemist turned to the boy. ” This is for you. To make up for what you gave to the general.”

The boy was about to say that it was much more than he had given the general. But he kept quiet, because he had heard what the alchemist said to the monk.

“And this is for me,” said the alchemist, keeping one of the parts. ” Because I have to return to the desert, where there are tribal wars.”

He took the fourth part and handed it to the monk. “This is for the boy. If he ever needs it.”

“But I’m going in search of my treasure,” the boy said. I’m very close to it now.”

“And I’m certain you’ll find it,” the alchemist said.

“Then why this?”

“Because you have already lost your savings twice. Once to the thief, and once to the general. I’m an old, superstitious Arab, and I believe in our proverbs. There’s one that says , “Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.”” They mounted their horses…

– The Alchemist


Organic Burn

There are things that have begun to burn.

Save those you can while they in any part


We leave what we cannot take. We trusted

What we did not make

After all, and went ahead and claimed it –


No, we did not make love. We made,


We did. But we did not create it. God did. God


Love. So how could the creator become in any part

the created? No.

So when these things that have begun to burn

can not be salvaged

We leave them and run. We haste from the embers that become

We are followed in our turn but the scarring is

localised to a minimum. An infinitesimal organic suicide


We labour with the remnants of our burn

To plagiarise and live in reruns.

Tomorrow we make again what we did not create

And trust again what we did not make

Our memory heals enough so we replicate.



Prose et Poesie

Trust I

*The word should is used indiscriminately in the snippet below.*

It’s been said that you should be able to trust the people that mean something to you. The operative word being “should”, ha. We are not obligated to trust. Yes, we are born trusting but quickly learn or are forcefully taught… for lack of a better word – Better. No, we don’t have to trust the ones we love fully. I don’t think there should be a love that is totally immersed in trust. But yes, by virtue of loving, we should trust to some capacity. Never all the way. And we SHOULD – please remember that the operative word is always should – be able to completely immerse ourselves in that if we chose. That should be the standard of those we keep close to us anyway. Yet, it would be foolhardy to use all that utopia (for indeed fully trusting is a utopia) all in one place. But wouldn’t it be great if there was a thought, a slim chance that we could?


Love III

“A man only needs one thing in life. He just needs someone to love. If you can’t give him that, then give him something to hope for. And if you can’t give him that, just give him something to do.”*

– James Liddle, Flight of the Pheonix


– But what if all a man needs is something to fight for? I guess he would need something to love first…


Friendship I

“I missed you.”

There was a pause. Then Tariq turned to her with a half-grinning, half- grimacing look of distaste. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

In Tariq’s grimace, Laila learned that boys differed from girls in this regard. They didn’t make a show of friendship. They felt no urge, no need, for this sort of talk. Laila imagined it had been this way for her brothers too. Boys, Laila came to see, treated friendship the way they treated the sun: its existence undisputed; its radiance best enjoyed, not beheld directly…

A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini


Out of Reach

There are mangoes in my backyard

Drooping down from the mango trees

If I reach out of my window, my fingers

Brush against the leaves. I can smell their

Sweet fragrance so heavy on my nose that

A taste would surely put

An end

To all my nerve-ending woes

I was given mint tea with honey and a single

Slice of bread. Its to satisfy my hunger and

My thirst while I corrode in bed. I dunk the

Bread in my sweet tea but it is wafer thin and

Breaks. The part that doesn’t make it to my

Mouth, I guess the floor can take. I pretend

The sliver in my mouth was a ripe yellow

And luscious green. But I still can’t taste what I really want

(Since this act does not have that scene).

One day I’ll find the courage to reach just a little

More. But I’m terrified that in that moment

She’ll walk right through my doors. And oh,

Isn’t she so privileged. She can do just as she

Please. If I could walk on my two mangled feet, I would

not be grazing leaves. All I want is one mango

I would be satisfied with one. But

Don’t touch is what She

Said. And last commands can’t be undone.

Prose et Poesie