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Before the leaves fall

I stand still under the golden Maple Tree. Lost in thought.  As a surge of overwhelm looms. The sirens are ringing.  Their deafening sound numbs me before I even have the chance to be scared. People rush into their houses.  I don’t. Not because I'm stubborn but because I don’t have anywhere to go.   Standing out I reminisce about my house, my family.  The memories rush to me like the blood in my stomach vessels which cramp me up and make me sick. Have I ever been overjoyed? Elated even?  Maybe.  That was a long time back, before the war. The season of fall is my favourite.  The dried Maple leaves gather on the forest floor, crunching when I step on them. The air filled with the rustic and syrupy smell. The warm golden evening comforted, the way a hug does to a lonely person. But now, the grey smoke of bombs overpowers the sweet Maple air.  I stand under this tree not because I’m hopeless.  But just to let the syrupy, warm scent of t...

Shower Thoughts

Scrub, scrub, scrub all you want. Use all the fancy shower gels, creams and lotions. No matter how hard you scrub, its a shame how only the exterior will be cleansed and polished, and not your soul.  Exfoliate your dry, flaky skin with a sugar scrub. You'll be surprised by how soft it leaves your skin. You'll only wish you had a scrub that could scrub away your self deprecating thoughts, leaving it with the same softness. The softness you'd wish you had towards yourself.  I pray, shower and clean. I wonder how much cleaning on the outside will ever make up for the dirt inside. In the evenings, I usually like to light a scented candle and savour the bewitching redolence of the lavender oil. Lavender is supposed to signify purity and calmness. Purity. The word seems to have lost all meaning for me. Am I still pure, as long as I bathe, pray and clean regardless of how many people I have hurt, stolen someone's right or demeaned them beyond imagination.  Don't forget to ...

The Old Church

 Today's dark and gloomy. The weather reminds me of a painting set in the dark gothic era. The grey nimbus clouds seem to be carrying too much baggage and are in dire need to get rid of it. The rain is making people stay in their homes. But here I am out on the lonely streets of Tirano, Italy.  Not bringing an umbrella is a conscious decision. It's been a long time since I've felt the rain, let alone danced in it. It seems as if I've associated this weather with an emotion. But I could go on and on talking about emotions. It never ends. So for once, I'd rather not. Instead, let me tell you about this beautiful church I visited. As I'm walking on the empty streets of this ghost town, a clock tower catches my eye. It is magnificently large with a grand fresco painting depicting two men carrying a bunch of grapes. A large door bears the entrance to this rather tiny church.  The door opens with an eerie creek. As I step in, a musky peppery smell hits me. There are n...

Warm Brownies

Its late. I've been waiting for an hour in this dark, dense forest. I hear the sounds of crickets and mosquitoes. I'm surprised at how I didn't think twice about heading home. And how none of the peculiar forest sounds were enough to scare me away. I suppose my real fear was you not showing up.  In the suffocating darkness, I find some solace in the fireflies. They glow a yellow bone white, as the moon. It was as if their presence made me feel just a little less lonely. The sweet smell of the brownies I'd made for you was tantalizing me. But I stopped myself and remembered how you'd always tell me how much you loved them ; and how you'd specially buy a block of Vanilla ice cream and Chocolate sauce to pair with it. You'd savour each and every one of them for dessert. I'm surprised at how you'd make them last so long. So long that they would catch fungus.  It was when my eyes started getting heavy that I opened up the tin box and started downing them....