Mutterings*

The feeling of numbness that echoes through each bone of our bodies. A low rumble of a shudder, a cry, a piercing of the heart in a loop of despair. Suffering. Questions,  hopes, and fears played over and over in the brain. An unbearable longing for a loved one that brings you to your knees. Musings on loss, of the mundane  everyday   afterwards . Of the absolute nothingness and horror of sudden goodbyes that are filled with words unsaid. Hugs ungiven, and memories not quite cherished until you realize they were all. Silent tears threatening to spill at random moments of the day.  Trickling down  on to  an already damp pillow... 

Trick = One day, we disappear. People everywhere. Loved ones, family and friends, acquaintances,  neighbours , strangers. Treat = Happiness. Love. Contentment.  Laughter, community, traditions and simple rituals. Insider jokes, memories. Secrets. The treat, easily becoming a simple trick.  Might as well be a dream, lost in the yesteryears of the corner most echoes of our brains. Life continues the trick and treating of one another.

The soothing cacophony of crows can be a rare insight  in  to  something deep. I'm not sure exactly what that is right this moment. But I know it is. I find the thought to be soothing. Crows conjure up memories of garbage cans and  left over  food. It also reminds me of YouTube videos on the "Secret life of crows." Google it. You'll see. Crows share food. They call upon each other when they spot anything to eat. They also pass down memory and secrets to their offspring. So, generations of crows can learn from their elders. Knowledge for posterity. Very human like. Misunderstood creatures of darkness, these peculiar creatures, they have so much character. Most humans misunderstand, our nature is to fear all things black. Crows. Cats. Darkness. It's a  pity,  because I am in awe of these wild feathery, shiny beaded creatures that are so adaptable to their environmental conditions. Such clever beings. Next time, listen to their sermons. Who knows wha

At times, it hurts. As tears pour down your cheek Stubbornly irritating the eye scratching the eyeball an angry red Sometimes, it is a wish Gently laid on a wrist Blown away with whispers of hope At times, it is beauty. Loning for shiny black curls At times, peace and calm As you pray to the universe At times, signs of aging. Turning grey, then silvery As the years become numbered And they have been a witness They are the glue. Holding the eyes tightly shut The eternal rest When they close one last time A million memories turn to dust Having softened the tears Over the years As they fell

My days are blurry, these last few weeks. Maybe they were months. I can't really remember anymore. I battle with insomnia induced by caffeinated drinks at unholy hours of the day. Once a tea drinker, now a hopeless coffee addict. I think I battle slight fits of depression and anxiety too. Who knows. I push these things aside for my life post-thesis writing. I play chess and learn arabic obsessively, anything to procrastinate writing a thesis. I have also started thinking in my dreams. My best ideas,  swear, come to me at my waking hours. Between the few feet from getting out of bed to switch the hateful alarm off, to walking to the sink to wash my face. I have allergies too. Detestable unruly runny nose, constantly sore and red from wiping. I sniffle a lot too. I am caffeinated right now, too. A mocha. Did I mention it also adds quite a bit of calories to my otherwise non exercise receiving body. My cheeks are fatter, I swear. I miss my family. I miss my grandmother who i

You smile at me across the screen Thousands of miles away And memories of a lifetime flash before me Forever grateful for this time, cherishing these random moments As our days together are numbered Cherishing every last new memory of you Knowing our days are numbered Hearing your childishly girly giggle Laughing at my silliness I chatter away, heart breaking to a million pieces Knowing you have suffered Felt excruciating pain, And I dread the next few months before us Where modern science stretches to its limits And comes to a screeching, painful halt And the natural progression of life takes over As one mother, the child of the other, watches her own mother suffer Yet, to the very end, only a mother protecting her child from the realities and inconveniences of life A disease that slowly eats away, from within The helpless grandchild, a witness from afar.. Hoping we have given you all we can As you offer your "ayusha" to me for a long life I of

The overarching issue that seems common and stand out the most, when discussing Greenwald’s No Place to Hide , the documentary on the Fukushima nuclear radiation as well as the documentary on the making of the movie Inside Job is the apathy of the general public. This seems universal, regardless of whether the issues are in Japan, or the United States.  Increasingly, the impact of these cover-ups are felt by people everywhere, no longer confined to one particular group of people. Just as the NSA spying was upon everyone, not just US citizens; radiation from the Fukushima power plant affected people in California, and the effects of an economic collapse in the US affected markets around the world. We are truly interconnected.  This is certainly a terrifying realization; with the advent of the Internet and “free” information, there are new challenges. My message to you today, however is that there is still hope. One individual cannot achieve global justice. It requires action of th

To Joseph, Leopord, Elie, Fulgence, Pio, Alphonse, Jean-Baptiste, Ignace and Pancrace,                        First and foremost, I write to you after deliberating over your accounts of killing in Machete Season.  I must clarify, the reason I write to all of you, is because I wish to point out I have no particular preference for either one of you, I struggle to think of you as individuals, when really, you are all a representation of people who failed many innocent victims with every blow of your machete, every time you scoffed at a feeble cry of an innocent victim as they were hacked to death. Thank you for participating in Jean Hatzfeld’s interviews . I imagine this was not an easy task for you, openly discussing your participation in the deaths of innocent people you had lived side by side with. I wish you had pointed out moderate Hutus were killed by Hutus too. I think this is an important point in the horror that happened in Rwanda.  I had to reflect on forgiveness from t

                 You do not know me, yet having read “ Left to Tell:Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust ” you have shared a deeply personal, intimate experience with the reader. Now I feel obliged to share how your story has impacted my own life, and thoughts on an unfortunately dark side of human nature. It seems rather important that I begin by telling you, I do not believe in a God. I am not a deeply religious person, and having been raised a Buddhist in a South Asian country that had its own share of civil war (nothing compared to Rwanda of course). Having grown up in such a background, I could not help but realize how easily people can be manipulated by powerful racist rhetoric to serve the narrow purposes of a small group of people. I appreciated your story made very clear that instead of over simplifying a very complex issue, but breaking down the issue to simply Hutus vs Tutsis, you made clear the issue was between extremists who were ignorant, cruel Hutus against mod

You will need: ·    500g of grated juggery (I got lucky, I've found grated juggery from the indian store. Will add more pics).  2 cups thick coconut milk (I use coconut milk cans or pitikara polkiri powder) 8 large eggs / 10 small eggs (or 18 eggs if double the recipe) About two cloves worth of ground cardamom One ground clove  1 tsp vanilla (I know you can add cashew, I've never been a fan) Directions:  I like to vary it up, and try different dishes. Pre heat the oven to 320F. Fill an oven safe dish with water half way, and place it in the oven, one rack below where the watalappan will go on top.  In a large bowl mix the coconut milk and jaggery, cardamom, cloves.  Stir well until the jaggery is dissolved.  Whisk the eggs with the vanilla, in a separate bowl, and add the coconut milk and jaggery mixture to it.  Mix well. Strain into oven proof moulds / ramekins. The straining is very important.  Cook in the oven for

Time stops still, while the sun sets every evening. I try my best to catch each and every single one of them. I am acutely aware of how little time we have, and increasingly I am reminded the finite number of sunsets in my life are constantly missed by the daily chores after work. So. I try to sit on the balcony and take in the colors of the sky, as they fade. One sunset, never the same from another.  That is breath taking. We don't need to climb mountains or fly to exotic lands to look up at the sky every evening. This is the beauty of it all.  Each and every  evening as I gaze west, the parking lot below in the apartment complex disappears. Over the hill tops on the horizon , as I sip my chocolate laden milk tea (knowing the cholestrol that is going in to my system), not caring I am missing a visit to the gym and making mental notes to figure out a better schedule that includes this moment in my day, I take it all in.  As the fading lights, dancing hues glow and fade

I wish I could learn oh, so many things. As I get older, I realize my time is short. Besides, having to make a living really cuts in to my free time. Plus, studying never seems to end, either. I know, personal goals and the cultural brain washing we have been through, that pushes us to gain an 'education' not knowing what that really means in terms of income and returns in the long run. Anyway. I digress.  I suppose at this point, I will always be a life long learner of some thing or the other, and the following list, at this point has been a constant so far : 1) Learning chess - I must join a chess club. My personality does not allow me to be a good chess player. I am too impatient. I also find that I am too lazy to learn the strategies, so I remain a mediocre wanna be forever. I should find a chess club.  2) Knitting and crochet - Something I learned from my grandmother. I have grand notions of sending scarves and new born baby gifts to everyone I know, to d

It's been a while since I jotted down anything that felt like nothing. Inspirations come and go. Funny how they are fleeting. Like a feather in the wind. Once past,  it is lost forever. What ever inspired a thought and torrent of words,  never return. Disappear in to the air,  just like where ever it came. I started writing that a while ago, and then it just stayed as a draft, like most of posts usually do. I AM MALALA (2012) Last night I watched the TED talk of Malala's father . Yes,  the girl who was shot in the head by the Taliban for advocating for education for girls in Pakistan. What an inspiration. I realize there are other view points on the issue. However,  the point is they were doing good work before the NYTimes documentary and before all the international attention. Unfortunately the same hype has helped them,  keeping the story alive,  western whatever regardless. What an amazing father. Especially his closing line. Such an inspiration for parents in ge

You know, how just when the world starts to seem magical and nice... Everything becomes hazy and confusing...you start seeing double visions and all you can do is sleep. Hibernate almost, completely unaware of what is going on or why it is not where you would like it to be. But isn't everything happy, you ask yourself? Well, that's exactly the point. It is. It is. "Then why? What's the matter?," I ask myself. "I don't know, I just don't know. Something just feels off."  I reply to myself. Deep long breaths seem to help. Reading lists, on and on. Partly it is all the things that need to get done, and things just become overwhelming sometimes. Deep slow breaths. Short, manageable tasks. Focus. Time management. All this, so hard and yet so urgent. It's ok to hibernate sometimes, I tell myself. Recharge a bit, and even collect some extra energy for times ahead. All those people in my head, loved ones I want to send thing

"Waiting is a part of travel. We anticipate the arrival of the train." Spotify music plays in my ears, as the train swooshes past me to a stop. The distinct two warning bells sound, warning pedestrians of the incoming train on the track (In case they try to kill themselves, I suspect). I must blog more, I tell myself. I like the sense of belonging, even if it is only in the sphere of the cyber world. A sense of fellow beings, a spirit of kindredness. No judgement, other than sharing of opinions. Not that I was ever much of a blogger, or a bearer of any deep thoughts. Everything is so on the surface, so, fleeting. Why is everything so,  fleeting? The iron or whatever metal footstep like things that decorate the train station platform, have been removed. Stolen, I imagine by hooligans. Sniff. Now an ugly space, on the otherwise pretty station platform. Dirty with wear and tear. Mostly, by a minority if the population tied to this limbo lifestyle, as we go about our