Psychos with red hair

I’m not really talking about those who were born with red hair, but I’m talking about those who color their black hair red while going grey with the belief that the red will make grey less obvious while not actually making it black because putting black on black hair would give it away. They’re sort of goofy looking; they can have some remaining grey hairs on the sides that never got dyed, so now they’re left with all three colors of black, grey, and red hairs and look like clowns. They’re also pretty OCD; taking multiple showers a day, shaving constantly, repeating lame jokes, etc. They wear their pants high up, walk around shirtless with a towel hanging off a shoulder, and they’re always chewing on candies. They also love tea, and make it minimum five times a day including one at 10pm promptly. Maybe one at 2am too, who knows, since everyone is asleep by then. Because they’re on antipsychotics, it’s a joy to make tea. They stutter songs out of tune and forget/make up lyrics and grind ginger and other spices on mortar and pestle. It makes them feel like it’s morning and that they’re right on track with life; when they’re busy making tea at 2am. It’s usually a jolly song and there’s loud thumping sounds coming from the mortal and pestle. All weirdos love tea and feel that it’s always tea time, it’s a fact.
2018-11-10 22.25.28

Advertisements

Stepping into the rain drops with my cat

You wouldn’t expect a rainy, cold, dark day around summer time. Everything’s back to freezing, and I hate having to wear winter clothes that I’ve put aside once more. The cat himself is a bit confused and is circling around not knowing what to do. I pick him up and smother him with love, and I know he hates it, but he’s so cute and fuzzy. We have a battle where I brush him up and he gives me an attitude with a couple of scratches and a play bite. To be honest, I’m more of a dog person anyway and he’s not really my cat anymore, but he was beamed in from a spaceship into this household long ago and now he claims it. Now and then I imagine him in zero gravity, and that’s enough said.

As I step into the yard to throw away his ball of fur, he follows right behind and sneaks out. It’s a drizzly cold day, but the trees and the plants are so green and my orange boy looks so vibrant. He sniffs a couple of plants and tip toes with the subtle rain drops. We walk amid the green lush, and he searches with his alert whiskers while I breathe in fresh air. We roam and explore a new world outside, and we don’t want to go back in.

20180602_183602

 

Sun friend

Why am I teary unexpectedly? Could it be the love for my grandparents, the loss of a family member, goodbyes of all kind,
The limping dog down the street
Quick infatuations, and false expectations
Sweet motherland, who seeks no expectations
Being sick in this heaven full of empathy
Asking for nothing in return, but only to inhale the scent of mother’s cooking
In the arms of my homeland that rocks me gently while I weep, passing time, watching the streets and making the best out of each hour, as slowly as can be, as if time is way too quick to pass on by, with my friend by my side; the kind sun from dawn till dusk.

2016-11-08-22-14-03

Let’s cry together

For being dreamers, and unintentionally hurting the ones who want to possess us as theirs.
For understanding the disappointment they go through when they’ve given their everything, yet still we can’t be owned.
For the sadness they feel when they think there is something wrong with them because we can’t be owned.

And as dreamers, let’s cry for us; for our dire want to solely belong to one thing forever, but are too instinctive to never be able to.

 

 

“If I could have been all that you wanted, all the time.”
… If you could have been all that I wanted, all the time

 

20160628_122719-2

Mothers of the East

mother

Dot on forehead
And the red powder along your parted hairs, like a red brick road.
The smell of roses, temples, and all things holy, heartbreaking, and nostalgic.
The thought of gods and a plate full of flowers for offerings,
Held by arms close to your frightened chest; a plate full of hopes and aspirations for your husband and children.
You are the adorable mothers of the east,
painfully sweet, and painfully strong for the sacrifices you’ve made.
In godly stone icons I see you
In every place of worship, you stand.
I miss you so
mothers, grandmas, aunties
You are so far away in my distant memory.

You shimmer along the flickering lamplights of the hilltop temple with your golden jewelry adorned,
Red beads around your neck and red cotton saree
Red dot on forehead and the red powder,
Holy and auspicious like goddess Laxmi
And I can never be half the woman you are.

20141215