I looked at you with such marvel, dreaming of your touch, longing to hear you talk
I doubt if you would ever talk to me,
But I know you do listen to me.
You watched me grow up to be who I am today
You watched me weep those lonely tears.
Never once you betrayed me
Never once you fooled me

You stood there tall, doing your duties
But thru my drape I see you peep
When the breeze blew on my face today
I knew you sent your kisses and your hugs
I felt like embracing you today
I felt like having you in my arms tonight
For no one deserves my sincere love
No one but you my shining star

Now your wondering why I dint come
Let me tell you the story another day
But I stood at my window staring at you
But you were enthralled by someone else
I know the lake is really lovely
I know others love you just as much
But please look at me fully tonight
Cause im telling you a story no one has known

So good nite my bestfriend, my love so true
I wished I was a star right next to you
Although you’re that far, yet close to me
My love for you is unconditional and free


Ahh, can’t believe I got thiiiis vulnerable when I saw the moon. I love the moon. And I think the moon loves me too.
No one could appreciate the moon better than me..i call him Chandamama. Or I call him jaan. And sometimes I call him baby. Depends on my mood.

You know its rather hurting that he comes visiting only maybe for a week in a month. But his presence there is much more than I could ask for.

The sky is lovely, sprinkled with stars. But without my moon, (yes, he’s mine) it’s never complete. When he’s there, all I would say is …PERFECT!...


Nota bena : the above is not a poem or anywhere near mine. I cant find words to describe how much I feel for the moon. So it’s just arbitrary writing. Back to staring at the moon.

Ever had a reoccurring dream? Something you dreamt of over and over again. Many times and yet you can’t figure out why.

I’ve had this dream since twenty four. I was always running in the dream. It’s a lovely place, like suburbs of Italy or France. But it looked like France to me. Somewhere I have been. A very familiar place. And I was sitting and looking at my reflection by a lovely stream. I had flowers in my hands. I see a temple, but not a hindu temple, on a hill. I hear bells. And suddenly, I hear noises. Loud noises. People screaming.

And start running. I don’t know why im running, but I ran. Kept running. And im caught. By people I don’t know. And they slashed my thigh. And I scream in pain. But I kept running. Then they slashed my back. I lose my top and I kept running. I heard people screaming Timbuktu. I kept looking around to see who was screaming and no one was around. But I kept hearing it over and over again.

Then suddenly a hand appears, I hear the voice. A male. He said “ hold me” and I grab his hand and kept running. I cant see his face but I kept screaming at him saying Yamataka (not yamakata). I kept saying that over and over again, screaming. And I always wake up at this point.

I had this dream yesterday for the 8th time. I really cant figure out what it means. But its scary. i always wake up sweating, as if I have really had this huge run. I know its weird. But if anyone really knows how to interpret this dream, please let me know.

Have a good day, till then

There’s a few things that most people need to know about me. Unlike other girls who get flattered by gifts, roses and chocolates, I get flattered by manners. Being clean on the dining table, no foul words, and being himself would be rather flattering.

I don’t put the toilet seat down. Don’t even ask why I actually lift it up. I actually realized this in Malaysia when my mom kept complaining that I do not switch off the lights and do not put the toilet lid down. I started laughing. Maybe because we have a common toilet here. Maybe it just became a habit. Funny thought

And I do accept gifts from very limited people. I remember one Pakistani guy who was crazy over me (not showing off). He was really good looking; green eyes (so do the math) and he called me over for Eid celebration. Everyone knows I don’t go anywhere alone until unless im really down or frustrated so I dragged Mohan along. When we went there, I saw this huge bouquet of roses on the table. I pretended, ate, talked and was about to leave. Then he took the bouquet and gave it to me. Without thinking I said no its ok. He was offended of course. The bouquet must have costed him around 2000 rubles, it was so big I don’t think I would be able to see my face while carrying it, you get what I mean. Huge. But I said no. Because, if I would have taken it from him, I’ll be sending a different message to him. So I dint want that. Killed our friendship after that. cute


I do take gifts from people I really care about. But I never ask. Cause I know if I want it, all I have to do is ask my parents and I’ll have it. But, if someone gives it to me, and I take it with a huge smile, it means I like you, or I adore you, or I respect you, or I love you

I mentioned earlier that I appreciate everything in life. the small things, the huge things. People used to say that im a garbage bin, collecting things which were mere rubbish to people. Like maybe I would have flicked someone’s photo or photos while being around them, or took the movie tickets we saw together, or a parking ticket, or a theme park ticket, an empty can of beer, hair from the comb, sweet wrappers, a pen used by this particular person. You know, rubbish from the car, things that dint really matter. Handkerchief. A straw. A broken nail. Weird things

I collect them because they harbor memories. Everything I have around me, has a story. Like I have a whole vase of dried flowers and I know till today which one was given by whom. And it’s been there for the past 5 years.

I love daisies suddenly. I still put roses my number one. But daisies are such happy flowers, like gerberas. The thicker ones last longer, maybe a week, the local ones, the one that grows roadside here, and lasts for a day.

I went flower picking today. I love flowers. Certain flowers. Like I said roses, or daisies or gerberas. But right now in my vase, stands 3 huge Russian chrysanthemums’ dried and well, dead.

I read a phrase today.


Woman would make a good wife if she were a maid in day time and a whore at night.
– Shanaz Haque

I would love to correct that line. A woman would make a good wife is she were a maid in day time and better than a whore at night?

Sad but true. Two ways to hold a man forever would be thru his stomach and thru his bedtime stories. You get what I mean.

Love on the other hand is a just a license to have sex. Maybe. Gone are the days of Romeo and Juliet. Waiting for each other so sincerely, without glancing at another beautiful god’s creation. But heck, we don’t even know if Romeo was a virgin before he met Juliet. Ah, more questions

Read Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. Worth reading. This paragraph is cute but you need to read it to understand the story

‘Why did you want apple cheeks?’ ‘I didn’t want apple cheeks,’ Orr said. ‘I wanted big cheeks. I didn’t care about the color so much, but I wanted them big. I worked at it just like one of those crazy guys you read about who go around squeezing rubber balls all day long just to strengthen their hands. In fact, I was one of those crazy guys. I used to walk around all day with rubber balls in my hands, too.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Why what?’ ‘Why did you walk around all day with rubber balls in your hands?’ ‘Because rubber balls—’ said Orr. ‘—are better than crab apples?’ Orr sniggered as he shook his head. ‘I did it to protect my good reputation in case anyone ever caught me walking around with crab apples in my cheeks. With rubber balls in my hands I could deny there were crab apples in my cheeks. Every time someone asked me why I was walking around with crab apples in my cheeks, I’d just open my hands and show them it was rubber balls I was walking around with, not crab apples, and that they were in my hands, not my cheeks. It was a good story. But I never knew if it got across or not, since it’s pretty tough to make people understand you when you’re talking to them with two crab apples in your cheeks.’ Yossarian found it pretty tough to understand him then, and he wondered once again if Orr wasn’t talking to him with the tip of his tongue in one of his apple cheeks.

Another recommended book is the prophet by Khalil Gibran. When asked what’s love, this is what was mentioned

When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart. But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God." And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

The book is downloadable in MIRC. Get into any random servers and log on to #bookz. I got a copy from there.

Im still reading the prince by nicolo Machiavelli. I’ll comment after reading it.

Well then, im going to close today’s post with a random quote.


We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.
–W. Somerset Maugham
Till then, ponder upon the words above while I try to, well, find my identity or maybe have my HARD boiled egg