The Song of Life

There are times when you want the world around you to become silent and yet, there are other times where the chaos in your heart is pressing against the walls of your chest, so terribly, that you turn to other things, to find a respite.

Sometimes, the only thing that makes sense to us, is music. I’m a firm believer of one thing and that is, that the thing that you need to be aware of, in life, at one particular point, will come to you. This knowledge is often disguised as a lesson, in things you wouldn’t have imagined, in places you would least expect.

One night, when I was terribly upset because of the memories of the past that still wants to haunt me, leaving me numb, and curled up in my bed. In these moments, music helps me the most, like I feel I could release my anxieties.

Eddie Vedder’s music has been a personal favorite and the song ‘Society‘ resonates so much with my being. That night, few moments later, my brother drew my attention to Youtube ‘s comment section of this song. This story shared by#TheStoribjorn saved me, just like how Eddie’s song saved him… saved us right when our thoughts were beginning to bleed.


It was so powerful that I ended up saving it for myself and today, I wish such a beautiful story reaches anyone who needs it, because there are people out there, wanting this very thing.

After 8 months of posting the story, I somehow hope that the man would’ve found his excelsior.

It almost puts my faith in the saying from Albus Dumbledore :”Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light.”

If you feel you are on the edge, keep the faith. You don’t know what might truly save you.


In the book “Tell The People You Love That You Love Them” by Rachel C. Lewis, the words written are beautiful :  “We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.”

We never know when the bus is coming. And one day, we might just get by it.

Originally posted here :


Decorate with Mosses


The colors of nature have always been my favorites, like the shades of blue’s and green’s. I find an analogy between these prime colors of nature and my affinity for the two, particularly.

As an isophilist, my heart beats best observing the everyday events of nature. A gaze into the vast expanse of big blue sky, at the lush green cover of the mountains, at the bright yellow of the rising sun, the filtered white air after the rain showers, the dusky brumous winter evenings, at the infinite dark space of the sky and the twinkling of stars and the moonshine. I feel my best when I’m closer to nature.

As I dwell in my solitude, few minutes of nothingness seems far more valuable than hours of human interactions. Taking a stroll in the park, after light rain showers, I admired the greener the park looked, like it has been cleansed. I wondered : ‘What if, when we die and we stand before God and he asks us : ‘What was heaven like?’ Why would it otherwise be painted the way it is?

What if this one Earth… this one life is all that we have? We are out here briefly, and so we should find ways to experience joy.

As my feet met the surface of Mother Earth, I had an an almost positive itch to believe that our walking upon this Earth as walking in God’s own garden. This one life is the heaven we have been destined to live through.

And while we are all out there taking our long walk through this garden, we are in a constant pursuit to find something beautiful or the other. Usually, everyone wants to find something that is beautiful as roses are, because by virtue of our human nature, we chase beauty, even if its accompanied with thorns. That’s how life is, really.

We gaze at the nature, feel mesmerized at its beauty because its a picturesque canvas. I wondered why can’t we look at people with the same eyes, without passing judgments. Because there is so much more to them than what meets the eye.

While we are out there gathering the most beautiful rose, we hurdle and find ourselves not settling unless we find the best and beautiful of all the roses. We walk and walk and return empty handed. By this time, someone else took what we felt like passing by.

Even then, beauty is only subjective.

We pay less attention to other things that have less beauty to offer, like mosses and I’m the kind of person who marvels more at this harmless, clump of plant, and I would rather plant my soul garden with it, seemingly ‘insignificantly’ and growing in dense, damp places, yet petaling the ground just as beautifully as the infinitesimal grass.

Maybe it gives me the realization that : ‘Its not so much about where and how you grow, what matters is what you grow into.”

Initial appearances, therefore, can only be decepting. Its all about growth and grooming. A hairy moth grows into a beautiful butterfly whereas a lovely tadpole turns into an ugly frog.

Everything has beauty, of its own kind. You just have to peel beyond the layers, dig deep and see whats underneath, all the sheen. That’s why they say : ‘Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.’

It takInitial appearances, therefore, can only be decepting. Its all about growth and grooming. A hairy moth grows into a beautiful butterfly whereas a lovely tadpole turns into an ugly frog. Some things have their own kind of beauty to offer.essomeone ordinary to appreciate roses. It takes someone extraordinarily ordinary to appreciate mosses.

Those with hardened circumstances can become softened souls.

Those with easy stances are sometimes are as solid as stones.

Find your own meaning of beauty. Be your own kind of beautiful. Remember, once you find it and you are it, the thing of beauty becomes a joy forever. Create your heaven while you are still here. What’s beyond this is not foretold.


One of the biggest wounds in my life and even this little world that we share, is fatherlessness. It’s a deep wound and its ramifications reveal itself in various ways. We grow up believing that God, in his image, creates an Earth Father for us, who will mirror His love and gentleness to his children and family. When this doesn’t happen a child grow up with a question mark over their head about who God is and many grow angry towards God.

As a kid, I’ve done that. But I don’t need a reason to be angry with God.

Back then, there was deep sadness, anger, resent and hurt.

Also, one can only hold the pain for so long, after that it’s just words.

Time and again, I would realize my habits of avoiding intimacy and being truly vulnerable with males, stemmed from the most important four letters, their presence and my fathers absence in my life.

I am not a victim–I have the awareness and I have used that moment and his words to unroot my fears of being abandoned of a father’s love.

But there’s a story… some unspoken sadness that makes me fragile yet acts as my only fuel, motivating me to become self propelled in life. Knowing her journey, I couldn’t bring myself to believe in “love.” Because it was the sound that I didn’t hear too often when I was just a child. Not being with someone who can appreciate a woman for the honor and love she brings to ‘his’ house.

It was the sound when I was just a kid and felt that you had stopped breathing, and little by little, over the years, pieces of your soul became fuzzy. I watched your happiness wilting away. When during all the grey blurs of hours, walls closed in on you, collapsed onto you and all the sobs reverberated through the walls, stealing all the air from your lungs. You had to face the music on your own and learn it the hard way with all your anxieties, sometimes kicking in at 5 in the morning or 9 in the night.

When your shaking breast woke you up with waves of pain that felt like earthquakes on your limbs.

When you had constellations of bruises on your body yet the signs of it on your body would go unnoticed.

When the dark circles weighed your eyes down and there were scratches on your notches.

When pounds started to come off your body and your cheeks began to look hollow.

So much of your beauty just wrinkled away.

It was the emptiness of your heart that I heard, the blankness of your face that I saw… In the blurry shades of life, you would question how do we let bad things happen to us, but most importantly why do pain happen to mostly the gentlest people, with nothing on them that taints their soul?

But whatever pain your path brought, it brought you to us and us to you.

You chose to walk a daily nightmare so that your children could live their dreams. You made sure that they don’t head for the same life as “YOU” did… Lady, it takes orb of courage. As a kid, I questioned your life’s choices. As a grown up lady, I respect them, because life wasn’t served to you on a silver platter.

A woman’s heart is a deep abyss of feelings unseen and unheard. Now that I’ve grown and became wise, I’ve began to understand even the unspoken and infinite despairs, darkening the walls of your heart.

Even when you were breaking on the inside, your tenderness guarded you…it kept her sane…it was your bravery that despite the million things that tore you apart with each passing day, you chose to speak of nothing but happiness for your children, which was a vessel for your own happiness.

Even when the absence of a father’s love made us resentful, God was watching us and in YOU, he embodied the love of a mother and a father.

Fathers are master gardeners…they tend to every leaf, removing the weeds placing us in the windows of opportunity so that we can lean towards the sun..So that we may never forget that the sky is the limit…they plant kisses on our cheeks; hugs on our backs, growing their love on us the best way they know how…Like MY FATHER! My father sacrificed having nothing, so that I and my siblings can have everything. My father walked a daily nightmare so that we could live our dreams; accursed to suffer for those who my father loved the most. My father watered us with blood, sweat, and tears so that we could be ripe for the harvest and I hope that one day, I can be as great as a father as SHE IS FOR ME.

YES! On Mother’s Day, I’m speaking of my FATHER. Because from where I come, FATHER is, always has been, and always will be spelled M-O-T-H-E-R. My father is my mother and I have always and will always love her, even though I may not say it to her often.

All that I am and all that I will ever be is because of you.

You were the person who would stand in bitter cold when your own legs were pained… you would wash, clean, dry, make sure everyone is warm and in comforts, even if you yourself unable to even step down from bed or herself is shivering in cold.

For long years, you did not know the comfort of AC and would dampen the cloth in icy water and place it on you to feel cool in the gnawing summers.

Even when you got the comfort of AC, you would rather stand by the gas stove, preparing dishes that everyone will savor, even when the beads of sweat grew until perspiration ran down your face.

With her swollen feet, pained knees and feelings of nausea, you went on doing everything to comfort everyone in the family, without a single complaint or anything in return and yet, in the eyes of one man, you remained the most unproductive and under appreciated person.

Only one person!

No vacations, no weekends retreat.

No breaks, no recaps, no perks.

Uneasy days,

and a schedule that’s hard to comprehend.

Mothers in every single household are the best economists and the best givers.

While I was a school goer, my mornings would began by bickering, for you didn’t tie my hair into a ponytail correctly and while I was getting late for school, you would keep running after me, holding a glass of milk and a plate with toasts. While I acted stubborn, you would be persistent in your efforts, ensuring that I never left for school, with my stomach empty.

You had sleepless nights so that you never missed a thing.
You chose milk for me rather than bread for you. You slept hungry that night.
You had so much to do, but you never left me alone when I was will.
Your feet was sore from your broken slippers, but your brought me toys that I asked for.
When I was awake all night studying, you never could have a sound sleep.
When I cried my eyes out in the middle of my exam preparation in wee hours of night, you wiped the tears away.
You were the emptiness I felt in the house when you would go out of town for few days or so.
No combinations of alphabets from A – Z can truly describe what you have been to me.
You celebrated every birthday of ours with much enthusiasm, even though you always had to do everything on your own.
You would sit with your little three bundles of love… and that’s how every birthday, every festival rolled by.
You would buy no, little or few clothes for yourself in the entire year yet, ensured that your kids go anywhere, looking just as fantastic.
Mama, you have taught me to do the right things..
you have always let your baby fly.. giving me things that I needed to make it through this crazy thing called life..and helped me smile through the tears..
You’re the Imago Die in my life.

Thanks for being my mother, my father, my best friend, my everything.

Happy Mother’s Day, Maa!

Happy YOU day!

If you could just see yourself from my eyes, you will know that you are not your failures… you are not the pain you went through… You are the struggles you made and what they made you : “a woman with an indomitable spirit, with tremendous orb of courage.”

You had taught me that if God has given you a dream or a purpose to work towards, don’t get discouraged by those who don’t see the vision, for it wasn’t given to them. Believe the dream and go achieve. Don’t be jaded by the success, the riches others are already blessed with. Go on, create your own life!

Thus, from your spirit, I’ve learnt to draw my strengths.

I could have died during the delivery, when my oxygen had stopped but I got a chance to live. And you wrapped me in the gift of love when I was born… You showered me with love every day of my life… And that very love will remain our gift to this world! We will remain indebted for all the care we received from you, but I want to make peace with the fact that somehow, in all your sicknesses, I had the opportunity to ‘mother’ my MOTHER.

Let us keep all the mothers in our prayers today because there are all kinds of mothers out there… Married; Single; Married but doing most of the parenting; the Fathers who lose their wives and never remarry and become mother of their kids; a young and early parent who gives in her child for adoption so that someone with no kids have their house brim with joy of a child’s playfulness. And then the animal mother’s who face the most difficulty in giving births yet the motherly affection is the same in their souls as in case of humans.

There’s nothing that will ever more be sanguine and sacred than motherhood.

Let us observe ‘Mother-Angelversary’ to honor the mothers who once walked this Earth and left for their heavenly abode.

Let us feel the heartaches that comes with the realization that someone, somewhere out there is living without knowing the love of a mother and hope that someone else will nurture them with a love closer to that of a mother’s… Because life is so much unfair.

You don’t always have to tell your mother that you love her, but when you do, make sure she feels it.