Good Luck


“Good luck to you,” she whispered in my ear as she pecked the air next to my cheek and walked away.

My brain told me to say “thank you” – that’s how I’ve been brought up – but I was caught off guard and cognition was limited.

But she is right. Good luck to me indeed.

In a world where I have to convince, argue and force people all the time to let me keep doing the things I am doing or let me do the things I want to do, I need all the luck I can get.

Don’t get me wrong: I am not oppressed or suppressed. I enjoy almost a first-world like lifestyle despite being a speck in my third-world country’s population. But I definitely live in a place where even a broader mind does not let go of (their own definition of) traditions, social structures and the its-always-done-this-ways. And people like me will always want to travel in two different boats at the same time.

It will always be done this way. Good luck to me indeed.

Speaking Your Mind


How do you say exactly what’s on your mind? How do you give your listener the exact picture that you’re seeing? That exact array of emotions?

And once another person has heard you, whatever you said becomes toothpaste. You can’t cram the words back in your mouth and swallow them out of existence, no matter how much you want to do so later.

Generally, you have to convince yourself to talk. That talking it out would help you with your problem. You talk yourself into talking. And all the while, your heart pounds like a drum and your throat feels scratchy and you sound squeaky like a boy who hasn’t hit puberty yet.

When you do manage to string two words together and spew them out with sound, it comes out wrong. Of the ocean you want to convey, you barely outline a puddle.

And you realize how futile speaking your mind is. The other person might listen but is not going to understand.

So you trail off, have your palate give your tongue a hug and silently brood on.

Stepping Back


Sometimes in life, it’s very vital that we take a step back, reevaluate and then do whatever we were doing. It’s important to see “life” in a different light, with a different perspective.

For example, just today, I opened Candy Crush on my phone after ages. I had been stuck on level 140 for a while now and had basically just given up. Today, within two tries, I managed to complete the level.

Conclusion: reevaluating things works!

Fading


I’m nothing but a number of days. A few hours, some minutes, a handful of second. With each passing one, a part of me fades away. Never to return.

Ever.

The hands of the clock tick on steadily, going around in circles. They pass by the same numbers, but each time is different.

Time.

That precious friend. That greatest enemy. So infinite yet very limited. All mine, yet all yours.

Mine.

All the days, hours, minutes and seconds. And all that I want to do with them. Everything and anything; and yet, nothing at all.

Nothing.

Completely empty. Completely useless. Darkness. Disappearing into even more nothingness.

Fading.

(Inspired by Al-Basri and one of my bosses)

Blue Flower, Red Thorns


OUCH!

The arrow hit its mark and wedged in deep. Pain shot up my leg. In waves, one after the other. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any blood except a couple of drops. So that was good…

Still.

Thankfully, a simple antidote existed for…the situation. All I had to do was find a blue flower with red thorns to get rid of both the arrow and the pain.

Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. I repeated this to myself under my breathe lest I forget as I began my search. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns.

And so, I started my search.

donkey

I looked high and low. I looked far and wide. I looked up and down. I looked everywhere. I looked at the last possible place and then I looked at some more possible places.

But there was no blue flower with red thorns to be found anywhere. Anywhere at all!

And being colorblind did not help me…

Oh, what was I supposed to do?

Little did I realize that all I had to do was…pull the arrow out!

And so, I continued searching…

The Queen


The young Queen surveyed her guests contentedly. The ball was well underway. The musicians had struck up a faster tune and the dancing party had increased. She could hear the tinkling laughter and the clinking chalices. Feet shuffled  daintily as their owners twirled their partners.

The Queen

Occasionally, they would look over at her and give a small bow. At this, she would smile back graciously and give a small nod in acknowledgement.

The merriment wouldn’t end until dinner was served and it was almost time for the feast to begin. She was waiting for the gong to sound to descend and take her place at the head of the table. Her guests would then follow suit according to their positions.

She suddenly noticed a movement in the far corner. Sir Alex! He was cutting through the throng and seemed to be headed straight towards her. Her heart skipped a beat. He was too handsome and the Queen was very fond of him.

“Now, what did we talk about, Quinn?” he asked her.

“Oh, but daddy. I want to join the party. Please?” she tried to plead with him once more.

“My princess, you may, but when you’re a bit older,” said he, while kissing the top of her forehead.

With that, he scooped Quinn in her arms and carried her upstairs to her room to put the Queen to bed.

***

Image Source: “Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party”

McCall’s, December 1964; oil on board, 10 x 10 ½ in.; Collection of George Lucas

http://americanart.si.edu/exhibitions/online/tellingstories/