Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The million dollar questions answer.

Whoever said time heals all wounds has got to be the biggest idiot on earth. *No offence mate*.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. 20 years into the future, a wound that you thought closed off could probably open up and sting again, as fresh as if it were made yesterday.

Time leaves wounds open with a dull ache. And sometimes, sudden memories add salt to the wound, making it feel like it just opened up all over again.

Once upon a time when someone passed away, I would give the public word or statement called “My condolences”.

How irritating I must’ve sounded.

When she passed away, people would come up to me and say “we’re very sorry about your Grandmum.” Even in my ragged state of mind then, I’d always wonder, “What the hell are you sorry about?”

I should be sorry. I SHOULD BE sorry. But in a way I’m not. Why? My grandmum raised three kids, one of which became the greatest father on earth, the other two became the best uncle and aunt that any girl could hope for. But to me, that’s not her most incredible feat. Her most incredible feat was so simple:

She learnt how to love.

She would love you, even if you were a criminal on death row. And once she loved you, you felt as if you’ve never ever been loved by anyone else on earth. She was so unconditional. Never once did you feel like you have to earn her loved. Her love was so pure it was heartbreaking, and its that love that leaves a dull ache today.

Here’s the crunch : She loved me.

She loved me for my craziness and almost cheeky nature. She loved me and she told me that every night we slept. She held me close when I had tears streaming down my face. She prayed for me. Every. Single. Day. I was her Rani, She was my grandmum.

And that’s why it hurts.

But this is not my memoir to my grandmum. That I’m still working on. For that memoir, I want every word to be perfect, just like she was to me. This is to answer that million dollar question , “ Are you ok?”

Here’s the long answer, the one I would give if I had the time. “I don’t know if I’m ok. I could feel “ok” in one minute, but in the next I could be crying my eyes out. I don’t think that qualifies me as ok, but I think it qualifies me as “I’m trying to be ok.” I miss her and every minute of the day I’m confronted with memories of her. Every step I take I’m reminded of how she once held my hand and guided me through. And because of that, every time I move, there’s a dull ache in my chest reminding me that my guide has passed on and now its time for me to light my own path. And I am scared shitless.”

Grief is a funny thing isn’t it? Just when you think you have it all figured out, it just turns around and cripples you to the ground. But boy does it toughen you up.

I once read a quote that reminded me of how humans move on with life. It said, “Fear not, for Death is liberation and grieve not for those who have found themselves in Deaths warm embrace. Rejoice for the moment they lived, and those moments that made them special to our hearts.” I don’t quite agree with the “don’t grieve” part but I sure as hell would like to rejoice for every minute my grandmum walked this earth.

I love and miss you Bibiji. And not a minute in my life will go by not remembering you and your love for me.

“ In my darkest hour you held my hand.
My candle that burnt both ends,
And as you came to the centre of your wax,
You burnt so brightly, that tears would lapse,
Now that candle has disappered,
Leaving me with warmth that slowly dissipates,
I’m reminded by the cold darkness,
That the absence of light is not without reason,
In the hour that’s darkest you always return,
Reminding me its my turn to burn,
I pray to the lord, “Look after my angel”
And weep and cry, for I’m worthless to ask,
Will I ever move on, I have no clue,
But one things for sure,
Bibiji, I love you.”

To: The greatest woman that ever walked this earth
Duration of living: Forever.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Hey people.....

In case you were wondering, the coffee drinker is a purely fictional post. The athelete in the story might sound familiar to a few of you but thats cause my dad told me his story when i was really disappointed on something(details will go no furthere from here people!!)

The coffee drinker however, well thats a character you will be seeing more of. Being a person who is completly bored out of my brains, i invented the coffee drinker as a way to pass time in hopes that i would not rot. But then it hit me, this coffee drinker, a pure figement of my imagination, could be the person who dwelves into memories and comes up with new stories, ideas and a paradigm thats shared with the world.

Who knows which memory and moment the coffee drinker will play up next. But untill the next post at least. I bid You all adieu.

without wax,

Ps... for people who have been following the blog intently, my poetry took a more depressing turn at one point. That was mainly cos of the exams. So dont worry people, Im still completly(well. almost) sane. :)

The coffee drinker.

A coffee is an insomniac’s poison. Yet I still sip on one every two hours. And I think. Of incidences and memories. The kind that you never forget. A strong black coffee with little sugar and no cream is a sure way not to sleep. And when you got a bad case of insomnia, trust me it ain’t no cure.

It was on one of these more worse nights( if there’s ever is such a thing) that I sat back and thought about a memory. Not a fading one. But one that stayed etched in my mind forever. I remember that day as clear as anything. A cloudy day at the stadium. Dismal even. But was a place where a spirit of a man was not going to be diminished. Especially not by a trifle thing like the weather. This mans story goes something like this:

He was at the starting line. Of his life. He crouched down and remembered. He remembered every moment. Every breath. Every drop of sweat. Those months of preparation.

“On your marks”
He crouched down. Leg prepared to launch him to victory.

“Get set”
He was ready. No gun could scare him from his purpose. No pistol could hinder his path.


He was off. He felt the wind whipping through his hair. He felt the ground, light under his feet. He felt the adrenaline, pumping through his veins. He was flying. Flying through those moments built up until today. Enjoying that feeling. “What was it?” he wondered. Satisfaction? Happiness? Euphoria? He couldn’t explain it. Not now, when he was flying without wings.

Life however has a funny way of throwing us a curveball when we least expect it. Even at the top of the world. He sensed something was wrong even before it happened. One moment he was flying. Next his entire world came crashing down.

All he felt was a searing pain. It went through his left leg. He couldn’t explain the tears that fell down his face. He had never once cried when he fell. But now, he couldn’t stop the coming. Bewilderment was etched in every corner of his face.

He could hear the paramedics van coming closer. He could hear the shouts of the spectators from the stadium. He could hear his mom. Pleading with him to get up. He opened his eyes and realize what had happened to him. His age old injury had returned. Striking him harder then ever. As if teasing him. Ridiculing him. At the last 400 meters of his race. He couldn’t believe it. Why now? Why at the most important race of his life?

He couldn’t say how he felt or why he felt it. He couldn’t even register the pain properly. He was in despair. The biggest loser on the planet. That’s all he could think of himself. In his ears he heard jeers. Of people who said that he wouldn’t make it. That his past demons will haunt him. Down and beaten, he did not move. Nothing did. All was still and silent.

What happened next was unexplainable. Something. A small in significant spark. It, with no waning, built up to a roaring fire that crashed through the very core of his being. An unexplainable sense of strength and determination. His mothers voice. Maybe it was so heavily ingrained in him that he was a champion. Maybe it was himself. The part of him. The little fighter that was not always there but when awoken was ferocious. The one who knew nothing would ever get the best of him.

He got up. Painfully but with resolve. Refusing assistance, he struggled to his feet. His left leg refused to cooperate. He didn’t care. He hadn’t done months of preparation for no reason. He was going to finish the race. Regardless. One step at a time to cross that finish line.

Taking the first step was the hardest. The stadium was silent. Even the paramedics stopped telling him to take a break. His mom had only tears to shed. He looked at the hope in her face and found strength. And he took that first step like a new born baby learning to walk. Stumbling a little, he managed to take another. He learnt to focus on the moments. Not the pain.

He remembered the hours in training. He took a step. He remembered the grueling hours in the gym. And took another step. He remembered standing in front of the mirror every morning and telling himself that he could do it. Behind him the medics were following. Not asking him to stop upon realizing he wanted to continue. Daring not to ask him to slow down and stop. He wouldn’t have anyway..

The crowd was silent. The stadium was echoing. The man that had come in first was no longer important. They watched this man fighting his battle. Alone. Silently, they cheered him on. Silently they shed their tears. The silence was unnerving. It was powerful. In that silence, so many dreams were seen. So much was found. On that mans battle, many found strength.

The man kept walking. The end was near. He did not slow down. He refused to stop for breath. With huge effort, he kept walking. With all the strength he could muster, he kept walking.

When he crossed the finishing line, the crowd went wild. They cheered the true champion of the race. The cheered the man who never let his demons get the better of him. The crowd was wild, their thirst for a true champion quenched.

As for our runner? He collapsed in relief. He was satisfied. He had completed the race, regardless of what would happen next. He felt that every single thing was worth it. He had tears in his eyes. From pain, exhaustion, happiness, sadness, relief, acceptance but most of thankfulness. Thankful that he did complete the race. His heart was filled with pride because he beat his demons. Taunting him no more, they dared not touch him. He won the true battle.

He may have gotten last place, but he emerged from the race victorious that day and etched himself as a hero in everyone’s hearts. His defeat of the battle against himself gave every person in that stadium hope. He is a stranger that I saw that morning. The stranger that taught me its ok to move on. Its ok to be afraid sometimes. But never let the fear of losing out, keep you from doing all you can and being all you can be. I was one of the spectators of his race and to that man, I raise my coffee and say thank you. For that one lesson in life I will never forget.

I sip my coffee before paying another visit to my memories. I had all night and day to do this. Sleep never came over me. It was time for yet another visit……..

Sunday, January 4, 2009

hey one and all!!

Happy 2009!!

Ok im not gonna bore everyone out of their brains by talking about bnew beginnings and all that.... i already do tht on a yearly basis.... im jus gonna start of the year with my favourite saying by far... an expert from the kung fu panda(now hows that for a place of inspiration:))

"Yesterdays history, Tomorrows a mystery. But today is a gift.
Thats why its called the PRESENT."
See as human beings. we tend to always worry about the furture and about whts gonna happen next. We always say that we've gotta plan for our future and we become so obssessed with our future their we forget our current present is our future.

God works in mysterious ways. He's made an object called time. and object which never stops functioning. which continues moving. and which bever looks back.

A good friend of mine once said "live your life to the max" and he did. He died earlier in the year of 2008. He was only 16.

I'm not gonna start this year of with a grim note. Nor am i gonna start this year of with the notion of deaths in the midst. But we have to realise its there. Every breath we take is one step closer to it.

So while we still have air in our lungs. And while we still have the ability to live. Lets make every moment count. Every moment should be our new year. Every second should be a second we cherish. Every day should be a day of resolutions.

and every night before we sleep, we should sleep with contentment and with the thankfulness that gods given us another day to live it.

so me being virtuous and advisory is all about up. Now its back to the crazy person we all know and love.

special thanks to my insane half jiwan for kicking my arse into writing a new post. CONGRATUALTIONS to you, pevin, sharan and all my other PMR friends on the wonderful results!!

Happy New year to u all!! i will be posting new stuff as soon as i get my chance to. Which should be really soon seeing as that i'll probably have nothing to do.

hugs and kisses

without wax,