Seeds of hope

Stage 1

Seeds of hope are sowed carefully onto you knowingly or unknowingly by a sower.

That sower can be your mom, dad, your friend, your enemy, a stranger, God, the universe or even you.

Hope for love, hope for money, hope for happiness, hope for more; different seeds like these are sown.

When sown, you think nothing of it. What it would do to you and What you would do.

Stage 2

A seed of hope has been planted.

Every day is spent in agony wondering how the seed is growing.

Many a times, growing these seeds are good. The nature of it is what matters. In this case, a bad seed has been sown.

A small seed is enough to cause a massive stir. The smallest insignificant detail slowly tends to outgrow the practicalities in you. It descends upon you and drives you into madness slowly.

I am exposed and stripped to my very core. I need an armour to fight off the delusions planted by my sower.

It takes days for the seed to develop into something.

There is still hope for it not be something.

Stage 3

The seed has begun to sprout under the watchful eyes of the sower.

When the pests try to contain the seed from growing, the sower adds fertilisers to your mind protecting you from the realities outside.

Seasons change, different conditions and temperatures have started to affect the seed sown. It is rising and nothing seems to snip it down. It is seeding now.

With all the right conditions, it will turn into a sapling. A step closer to a greater fall or a greater good. I am not sure until I am provided with the cirucmstances.

Stage 4

The seed has sprouted into a sapling.

A sapling is under nurturing, being nurtured to be a part of something big and unknown.

It continues to grow without no feller cutting it down. It would have been an easy and sad death with minimal consequences.

It is growing to withstand amongst the harshest of conditions and very little gentle breezes.

Some one cut it down before it matures into a tree. I beg of you. This tree will only end up in a sad demise once grown.

Stage 5

During the fragile years of the sapling, it had been fed false hopes that could have been true if fate had not altered the plans.

If the feller or the sower would have shown mercy, this tree would not have to suffer for as long it was intended.

This tree could have been snagged at the very beginning but instead, it has chosen to grow and be in the wild.

Since it has matured to its very peak, no one no longer showers it with love or give it a pretence of a false hope. Instead, it is now slowly beginning to survive in the wild, learning, watching and suffering.

Stage 6

As the tree starts to grow older, the hope starts to die by bits.

The tree learns how to live with what it has been given but the sliver of hope still remains. That sliver of hope drenched in fantasy is what might keep it going. A fantasy of being nurtured and loved.

The regret of that hope sown is evident. The tree no longer stands with the vigour its predecessor carried. It now stands cracked, grey and leafless.

The decayed bits of the tree return back to the soil, its nutrients waiting to be soaked by the future seeds.

One will never be lucky enough to reap the fruits bore by the tree.

I guess that seed was sown just to be killed later.

Thank you for the 201!!

This is unbelievable!! 201 awesome people are following this home of mine!!

When I started out, I never could comprehend people would be out there reading what I wrote and supporting it. Even if it a little group of people or just 1 person supporting me, it meant the whole world to me!!

I am so excited for this home to grow in terms of myself and the people! I look forward to welcoming more amazing and wonderful human beings out there. I look forward to learning more about what people think!

I can’t wait to write and write and see where it takes me! Thank you for supporting me on this journey!

Do keep spreading the love and sharing it!!

And once again Thank You All!!!!

The two men

It has been three days since I had gone to the gym. Three idle days of sitting in bed, reading and watching.

Today I went to the gym, it was energetic. It is a small gym with three equipments and some weights and a bounce ball in the building on the same floor as I live .

Nine huge glass windows were mounted to one side of the gym and a plain white wall on the other. The treadmill among the other gym equipments faced the windows giving me the opportunity to look out at the people on the streets indulging in their routine and/or activities. 

I have a specific time when going to the gym here. Eleven A.M to Twelve P.M. I spend around an average of Forty minutes at the gym. During this time, I watch new and old people on the streets do their thing. 

I am not much of a good observer. I just look at what the other people see. I see but not observe. I am trying to improve on that. So when at the gym, I teach myself by setting people as targets so I learn. I cannot deduce like Sherlock Holmes or Doctor Watson but they do teach quite a bit. I just let my mind do the bare minimum with some context either given in by the environment or by my mind.

When in the gym, I keep on some music or a podcast so that I tend not to strain my eyes looking at the screen of the phone which I do everyday every hour. So just during these Forty minutes, I let my eyes prey the world outside.

I notice what the people do. I feel like a hunter stalking its prey but not deciding to act on it. Instead just looking outside and watching, keeping it all to myself. I take note of the time when the vans come around and I would like to deduce for what purpose they come. I deduce it by the logo on the van. Pretty easy work. I like to keep my mind occupied with minuscule details like these.

Today I went to the gym at 10:50 AM.  As usual, I watch the old and new people. What always catches my eyes are a pair. There are always those two men sitting on the ground sometimes standing indulging in conversations or sometimes resting.

I only see them there till I leave. I do not know what they do after. All this while I have been coming, I have never witnessed them leave during the time I spend in the gym.

I always wondered what brought them there at this specific time. I am assuming they were brought there by the obligations of their job. I would like to think of a higher purprose that brought them there, everyone who was brought there during the time I was there.

As always when I am on the treadmill, I watched them keenly trying to decipher why they were here. They wore Red shirts with Green luminous bands imprinted on the shirt around their arms and had black pants on.

I figured they were some sort of workers, but of what vocation, I could not figure that out. It would have been easy considering how one could learn about the purpose of different uniforms, but I rather not.

I tried to figure out the nature of the conversation they were having right now. The guy on the left had various hand movements going on. It seemed as if he was explaining some concept or a joke to the man, colleague or perhaps his friend on his right.

I could not understand what expression each of them had fixated on their faces because they wore big hats and looking down on them from a height, it was nearly impossible to figure. So I could only deduce. I say a joke because I could see the man smile a bit even if he had the big hat on.

After a brief of Ten minutes, they stood up and went near the big can that ressembles a canister but worn out and rusty. Then I saw a big white garbage truck come along and these two men placed the big can onto the rear holders and the garbage was dumped into back of the truck. As soon as the the truck completed the job, they hopped along the sides of the truck and went away.

That was it. 

My keenful watching was over. Why did the truck decide to come at this specific time today? On the other days, I never saw the truck but today, I saw it. Why did it decide to rob me of the pleasure of figuring out the story of them?

I could have assigned a nice story with some rich context and background but I was robbed of it. Now I have to hunt for other regular people who stick to their routines and not have a satisfying conclusion so I can create my own story for them.

There is some comfort in trying to figure out the story of strangers. There is a better comfort when assigning your own story to them with your mind.

Going back “home”

This was written in Dubai a while back and I forgot to post it but I am doing it now…

Upright on the hotel bed I sit with my laptop trying to create sense of what I want to write while my lower body is snuggled up in a big white comfy duvet. I am trying to gather sense of what I feel at this point. I am confused. 

I am in Dubai now, my home or so I felt. I had come here along with my dad for a few days to meet my best friend and well to be in Dubai. I missed it and I wanted to know how my home felt. I was so excited to be used to the old comfort this home once gave me. 

It was around 4 or 5 am on a Friday that I reached. In this hometown, as soon as the people left office/school on a Friday, it symbolised homecoming and we welcomed the weekend. Radio Jockeys wished us to start an awesome and chill weekend and that’s what many of us did. As soon as Saturday evening rolls over, we knew it was time to say goodbye and a rather dull hello to a Sunday dawn, where we had to go back to life, school and work.

As soon as I stepped out from the airport, the humidity extended its welcome by fogging up my glasses. I knew I was home. 

It was that time of the day when the whole city was asleep and there were just a few cars on the road. Nothing much has changed except something. 

While going to the hotel in the taxi, I looked out with so much of fondness and nostalgia outside remembering every memory that took place wherever I looked. My dad and I reminisced at the memoires our family once made at these places. 

As I started remembering more, waves of memories hit from every place I went. When I looked out now, I felt like a stranger roaming around in known lands and not of a kid whose home this was. 

There was something so different in the air and in the atmosphere, I couldn’t put my finger on. I was staying in a hotel in Bur Dubai. 

Back then, I lived in a big old off-white building right here in Bur Dubai. My whole life was consumed by that building. The hotel I was staying in was just behind that big old building which was once home. 

As I looked around where my old home stood, there was so much of change not in the physical sense but more so in the energy and vibrancy of the place. It felt abandoned even though people live here. 

From the days I lived here, I remember how Friday mornings were an embodiment of hustle and bustle. Families went out to get breakfast and did their routine shopping from super markets. There was always something or the other going on and now no one in the streets. Maybe a person or two but that’s it. 

I guess it was the heat that kept people from going but back then, there was still hot scorching heat and people still went out. So, what’s different now?

I was a stranger now. I had been from my home so long, so long that I don’t recognize it any more. It felt as if home died the day I left. I am sorry. 

As I am writing this, I am still trying to understand what I am feeling. It is a pang of sadness and disappointment not because I left this home or some nostalgia. I am just sad and upset because I have finally realized I don’t understand my once upon home anymore. 

I feel guilty for wanting to leave this place. I feel like it is bad of me to feel guilty about this feeling because this has been my home for so long and how can I not like it? How can I just not like it anymore? 

Back in Singapore, I thought I missed Dubai dearly and would do anything to go back but now I have realized, I miss the life, friendships and memories I had. I want to go back to that old life in Dubai. That is what I wanted, not this new one I am put in. 

When I have to leave on the 7thback for Singapore, I don’t feel I am going to miss Dubai, the place. 

For a fact, I know I am going to be hurt when I leave my best friend who lives here. I surely am going to miss the places I always like to go to but again it was that life and that moment of that place. 

I am going to miss the luxury of looking at these places that remind me of my memories, yes, I am going to miss that not anything else I feel. 

When I say I miss Dubai now, I miss that old life, not the place anymore. 

I miss that life and the reason I feel I belong here or even want to come back is for that nostalgic memory and for my best friends. That is it, but when they leave, then what?

I guess I will still come but just for that memories. 

I am always going to be a Dubai kid, but not in the way some people have defined it. I am an old Dubai kid who loved her life here. This was my home once but not anymore. Dubai is always going to be a part of me. 

After all these years, I finally realize what home means. I thought home had a lot to do with physicality but no, as long as I am with my mom and dad and my best friends, I am closer to home. When I have to be truly at home, I also have to embrace the place I live at. I have to be happy and content with the life and role I am doing. 

I want to call a place home when I have it all going. 

Now I know what I missed all this while when I was at university crying, it was that life, that feeling. It is all clear now. 

It was not home I missed; it was the life I once had. 

Some Times, Many Times

Some times, I wish I did not have to account other people’s feelings into consideration before I erupt.

Many times, I unfortunately do so and then regret it the moment later. I am now learning to care more and I understand that now.


Some times, I wish I did not live in a world where life is this unfair.

Many times, I have no other choice but to live in this unfair world.


Some times, I wish I had all the time in the world to do everything I want without the need to worry for money

Many times, I fantasise about doing so but ultimately fantasies lead you no where. So I am doing my best and working hard so that I have the money to do everything I want and hope.


Some times, I wish I did not have to live a life where I only remember sorrows and seeds of hate

Many times, I have now realised this is the life I was given and there is nothing I could do to change it


Some times, I wish I could share more

Many times, I understand why I haven’t


Some times, I wish not to be consumed by the idea of love knowing what I expect will never happen

Many times, I let it happen


Some times, I wish I could leave for the woods and a city like New York

Many times, what I do instead is I listen to music and watch videos that make it possible


Some times, I wish I was more creative and not filled with remorse or self doubt about what I could do

Many times, I believe I am more than what I think and believe but my doubts plague me down

Some times, I loose my sleep and mind thinking if I will ever make it

Many times, I doubt if I would make it and Many times, I have hope that I will make it.


Some times, I wish the world could be a better place in terms of everything

Many times, I wish the world could be a better place in terms of everything and I try doing my bit to make this world a better place for everyone and everything. When it succeeds, I am happy and inspired to do more.


Some times, I wish I had not watched that many movies which have now influenced me to think that my life could perhaps be like that

Many times, I am glad I have watched those movies because that is the only way I could ever live a life like that


Some times, I wish I did not have to feel so much

Many times, I am glad I could feel the way I feel


Many times, I feel my heart shatter at the sight of homeless people and the jobs one needs to do to have a living. I wonder what can I do to help? Then I realize, by growing up and getting a job, I can do my bit for them.


Some times, I wish I could do something about the dark desires I want to do

Many times, I have chosen not to act on it because I do not want to take part in painting the world red contributing to everything bad


Many times I wish I did not feel a burst of sadness and sympathy when I look at old people who remind me of my grandparents

Some times are the only times I take an action to spend time with them.


Many times I wish I were not engrossed in my laptop and on my phone

Sometimes I decide to spend some time in the outside world with my family and that time is actually worth spending.


Some times, I wish I was not given this life. I wish I had been offered a choice for a life I wanted to lead

Many times, I am glad I got this life but the hope still lingers


Some times, I am envious when people think of my life not exciting as other

Many times, I simply do not care and move on


Some times, I wish I had a sibling so that I would never fear being alone when my parents leave me

Many times, I am glad I am the only child in my family because I love that I am the sole receiver of all their love


Many times, I wish I could lie down in a room so high with a view that overlooked the city lights listening to music that make me feel everything

Many times, I find myself wishing to be in a cabin in the woods amongst the forest listening to the rain and writing

Many times, I find myself dreaming of being in an apartment so high where I could see the rays of the sun spread across the whole city.


Many times, I wish I could honour every promise I have made to everyone I ever love

Some times in many, I have honoured those promises


Some times, I wish I had a best friend who was all to myself. A best friendship like Miley and Lilly, Alex and Harper and like the F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Many times, I am so blessed to be in best friendships unique and happy to me.


Many times, I dream about a love so great that the whole world will write stories about someday.

Many times, I understand the probability of it not happening. Many times, I come to terms of my reality and what is offered.


Many times, I wish I was handed a childhood where I did not have to see my parents fight a lot.

Some times, I wish the Armageddon would come and sweep it all away.


Many times, I wish I did not have regrets in life to look back upon

Some times, I realise those regrets were needed for me to learn but I cannot help thinking on how they could have been avoided. I guess that is just my mind. Never satisfied.


Many times, I wish I had not kept so many secrets from my parents. I wish I could have let them know it all but I know I will be judged, possibly even worse.


Many of the times, I dwell in the nostakgaix of my childhood and wish I were trapped in that state forever

Many of the times, I am glad I am growing up to be more independent and free because I can edit my own path and see where it goes. I am happy for the freedom I get and for the chances I can take. I am also happy because of the progress in growing up because I get to be further away from all the fights I have to witness.


Some times, I wish I never left my home

Many times, I am glad I did but then I weep at stages


Many times, I wish people could see me through my eyes and not theirs

Some times, I am glad that is not the case because through different eyes, different and unique perspectives come out and you learn a lot more that way. You know they like you or do not like for who you are from their eyes and not from the monstrous eyes you have. It makes things slightly better in many ways.


Many times, I wish I could be happy with the way I am

Some times, I am very ecstatic and proud and then the other times I am not and I wish I could change every single detail about myself.


Many times, I wish I could show people the changes I wish they could bring upon themselves

Some times, I ponder on why they can’t see what they do.


Many times, I wish life had not handed me the atrocious parts in a sliver platter

Some times, I understand why life handed me them. To make me grow or I deserved it?


There are going to be plenty of these some and many times in my life and I know I can do something about it or nothing at all.

I will try and achieve as many of these some and many times in my life but also what I like to do instead is to fantasise and think of the possibilities rather than end my misery because there is something in this misery that keeps my mind alive and ticking.

The Joker’s Naughty Sister

Brought to you by my Nightmares

I have written down every detail I could remember from this one. This nightmare stuck to me the most and also from many of the frightening nightmares, I remember this very vividly.

I made sure I remembered all the details by going over them again and again while trying to sleep because I wanted to write this down. I have been thinking about writing my dreams for a while and this helps.

Sometimes, I think by fixating over these details over and over, the nightmare would come back but it never has. Instead a new one comes every night.

I have put names of the people who were in my dreams by their starting and ending letter of the name in “quotes”.

It starts now…

The dream starts by I boarding the metro to a destination. When I stepped out, it seemed like I was in China Town. I figured so because of the atmosphere, the buildings, the unknown language and the markets. The strange thing was rather than expecting to find what one finds in China Town, I found that it was markets of Harry Potter instead.

The town was abandoned. I was alone. It seemed like some thing out of an apocaplyse but with everything still managing to look fresh.

Each store was a theme related to Harry Potter and this one particular store caught my eye. I guess it was a cafe and outside the entrance were the statues of Harry, Hermione and Ron pointing their wands casting a spell at the store. It was an interesting sight for the eyes.

An unknown sense of cold filled the town and I knew I needed to get out. I felt this dread within. I tried searching for a way to get out. I walked back and forth and around to find a way out.

I don’t what happened next in the dream but now I was at the metro. This metro had connections to the entire world and could take me anywhere. I saw the metro rush behind the glassed doors carrying passengers or something else. I am not sure anymore.

I went down to the platform to ask someone for help and I got helped. I needed to get to Burjuman, a mall in Bur Dubai. I did not know what for, all I knew was that I was headed there.

I stood on the shaking compartment and proceeded to look out at the views outside. It was different but appealing. I saw buildings achieve various architectural feats. Among the many buildings, I saw this one building have the most beautiful stained glass allowing various colours to be seep into the glass building. Those stained glasses had pictures that told stories. Sadly, I did not know what they told.

Now, I was at the airport with my mom and we were in a lounge. This lounge seemed like it was meant for people travelling in an elite class. The lounge was spacious and it had red floors and golden curtains hang. The place gleamed.

There were many tables and six chairs surrounded each one. It was the most fanciest and sophistcated place I have ever been in.

I don’t think I was in the right attire for this atmosphere.

Myself and my mom walked down this big lounge and we find our old neighbours seated at the table right in the middle. It was the mother “M.Y” and her daughter “M.A.L”. It looked like we all were having a jolly time, with choclate mouse on the table for all of us to dig in.

Out of nowhere, this Malayali actor Suresh Gopi comes and decides to sit with us. He sits next to me.

There were 6 chairs at the time, two taken by mom and myself, two taken by the other mother and daughter and one taken by the actor. The other chair was not taken. For some reason I do not rememeber the sixth chair being there but I knew it was. My gut says so.

Suddenly, I find the actor and myself sitting on my chair. I was sitting on a very tiny space of the chair and I was half hanging out but somehow I managed to sit just fine and then numbers of the chair reduced from 6 to 5. I frankly don’t understand the logic of this.

There were 5 occupied chairs but how was the actor still in my chair if the fifth chair were occupied?

The space seemed much smaller and more intimate. I started to panic and with my heart racing out of my chest, I rushed from there.

I did not know where my legs took me but now I was in a small movie theatre hardly with 30-50 seats in it. I saw four of my old high school friends, now who I no longer keep in touch with.

“T.L and J.E” stood on the right side of the theatre while “M.A and A.I” stood on the left. They had concerned looks on their face while watching me break into this paranoia.

I broke down on the stairs. I knelt down and remained there saying to them that I was convinced that I was in some sort of experiment, being controlled, being watched. I was convinced the whole world was in on this. It felt as if I was in a psycholigcal thriller. I was missing the bigger picture, the bigger lie.

Those four people stook there trying to tell something, something in the lines of “what you are thinking is not true, it is nothing of that sorts.”

I was on the main stage now, in front of the big screen, down on the floor. As I rushed towards the door, I found the joker stand. This joker looked different. This joker took the form of Milley Cyrus, a rather frightening version of her. Her hair all tangled in knots, pale white skin, colours of green and purple bled on her face and in her hair. She looked into my eyes viciously with meaning.

In seconds, I found myself spring upright, mere inches away from her face and then I saw what terrified me the most. Her eyes sewn shut. I could see the black thread stitched in and out of her eyes. Her eyes opened.

I was now a few feet apart from her and the Joker. This Joker was now the Joker I was used to seeing in movies. The Joker played by Heath Ledger and then beside him stood that being.

I do not know if you know this, but there is this black board above some of the movie halls that show the movie they are about to play or the ongoing movie in that hall. That board appeared above the movie screen and showed the title “The Joker’s Naughty Sister.”

I was watching all of this behind my computer screen, watching the other me. It felt like I was watching a movie but it was not. I knew that being beside the Joker was me. This connection was personal and intimate. I felt it.

Then I screamed

Dream Over

I screamed for my mom. I called her name out loud. It was as if a demon was being exorcised right out of my body. My mom came by my side and comforted me like always.

She was used to these nightmares of mine. I have them almost every single day and in every single day, I cry out for her name. Most of the nightmares, I do not remember what happened but this one, I did. I do not know why.

Every nightmare, I scream for my mom and in some of them, I wake up in terror. I do not know why I get these. I wish I knew.

I tried going back to sleep but the moment I shut my eyes, I saw the stitched eyes looking back at me. Every time I wanted to close my eyes, instead of seeing darkness, I saw those eyes.

So I opened my eyes out of fear every once a while to get that image out of my head and then I slept.

In doubts

I am in this weird emotional space not knowing what to write about. Now this is different. This is not a slump. I know exactly what to write about but I am not sure if I am ready for the world to uncover me.

I want to go more in deep with my emotions and stories, I want to write more of what I feel and hide but I am afraid that once the truth comes out, what will that do to my close friends and family? My relationship with them would be affected. I don’t think I am ready for that big of a risk.

My past posts does not mean I have not been writing about myself and what I feel. It has been and every bit of those words were true but those were less terrifying real versions of what I feel. There is always so much more.

I have so many of my emotions in words and I want to put it out there but I am scared of how that would go with the people I love and the society I am put in. I am not afraid of the world but sadly I am afraid of putting it out with so many familar faces who claim to be friendly.

It is upsetting having to think of what my society would think of me and my family because of the struggles I have been put through. I wish people wouldn’t judge as much but I guess that’s the duty of some people; to judge.

Many of the people in my society look for reasons to put us down and to make a mock of us. They use our sadness as a reason to inflict joy in their lives. They are the genuine and true Schadenfreudes.

Until I decide what I want to do, I am going to take a small break and decide what I truly want to do about these thoughts.

I am slowly going to start posting pieces from the past. There are countless pieces I have written and it would be nostalgic and great to see what mind space I have been in that time. I could maybe post them in the original form or add more to it.

I have always thought about how liberating it would feel once you put down all these pains that weigh you down, and now I am at that conflict. I have put them down but I don’t know if I am ready to post it.

How do I get ready?