Twenty, my lady?

The shine in the eye, skip in the step. The classic lollypop that the twenty is, aesthetically pulling, mindlessly tasteful. Catching her in between ‘Live, love and laugh’ and ‘I See it, I like it, I want it, I got it’, what was the twenty trying to say?

Memoir? Maybe.

What does a constant encounter with change does to you? Shouldn’t I be feeling something right now? Shouldn’t I be nostalgic about the past and scared for the future? Besieging the strength was the good old quandary, what if? What if everything changes? What if my people change? What if I change enough for it…

26 and running, still?

And maybe all this while when we are just busy running from and running towards we actually are sitting across Ross and Chandler spinning a wheel of mayhem only to find out we have been bamboozled!

The Penultimate Life

Life as we know it is the most certain phenomena, our fate is sealed either to move to the clouds or a cauldron of scathing oil or the forever halt in the Bardo. Yet we choose to be oblivious towards the ultimate truth of our penultimate life.

Yes, I remember.

As the golden hue of the night bulb adorned her soulful yet worn down face, her eyes looking into the nothingness of her room, the architectural proof of mediocrity she could feel the iota of blood making its way north a little slower than it should. She knew all along it was coming. The last…

The half-eaten chocolate

See that’s the beauty and irony of the end it never is.
As of what happened to her? Well she moved ahead, dived deep and continued like each one of us – “With a mind full of questions and answers lost within.”

While she tried catching up

“She has a lot of potential” were the words she grew up listening. Like the trail that is left in water and the scent that lingers in the air her dalisay latency surrounded her; present but not visible. With blink of an eye here she was today strangled and encumbered by webs of her own expectations. Maybe it was the extremes that led her into this unending muddy, marshy patch of life. Demure and cocky!

You don’t get a dream home but it gets pretty close

Dream home a word pretty eminent in a young lady’s (I have always preferred this version of the word girl) lexicon. What a dream home would be? Well, Cortana suggests it is a luxury global home right at the outskirts of my city! Maybe it is. Mostly it is not. Today as I look and…

What’s the point? She wondered.

Then again after the fresh raindrops decorating the trees she saw another kitten in that glass shelve looking like an old British window ready to be taken away.

When will you have arrived?

Candidly speaking we all have that Plato or Mozart or Paul McCartheney in us. It’s a quest you’d agree. You need to get lost first to find a way. That’s what purpose is “a way”. Slay your dragons, believe in yourself, pack a bag and set the sail in unprecedented waters. Just once, just that once and you shall find you or the new you.