Deep breath….. It’s just a cupboard.

She walked past every section but stopped to pick up on of those little pencils and lists. She took  two steps forward only to take take two steps back.

“I think I’m going to need two of these, ” she thought, grabbing another pencil, “and another one of these,” grabbing another number list.

She walked, hunched, past families picking browsing through potential bedrooms, potential bathrooms and kitchens, potentials ……

She hunched.

Seeing a man draw his partner closer to him while they stared at a baby’s crib reminded somehow her to straighten her back and broaden her shoulders.

She walked in and out of bedrooms. Fingers grazed surfaced like silk and absorbing their feel like sponge. Then she touched something. The wood was smoothened but with a minimal layer of wax.

Opening her eyes fully for the first time she saw a moderately sized four-door wardrobe. A reddish hue tinged its surface.

The doors opened to comfortably spaced clothing racks and shelves. It was tall but not tall enough to make it unreachable. It was wide but not wide enough to cramp the space in her room.

Item number jotted down, her little legs took quick strides with wide eyes and wide shoulders.

The narrow pathway soon expanded leading her to the warehouse-like room filled with neatly stored furnitue.

She loved this place. The enormity of the space spread out the distances between people. There was so much air to breathe, and that smell of cardboard boxes, which calmed her senses.

A1380 …… A1380

A….. 1…3….





Startled she took a 360 degree turn and saw no one around.

She swore she had heard a man’s voice come from somewhere near by. No not just somewhere, from right in front of her. She peered closer into the shelf.

“People always get surprised when their furniture talks to them, relax. I’ve been waiting for you . I’m the last one of the batch left here on the shelf, let’s go!”

She blinked.

There was no one. Just 1380 printed boldly on a large, lone cardboard box. Everything else was at least a few feet away.

The box is talking to me? I’ve gone insane. I have been single for way too long. I need to eat.

“I’m sorry.”

He interrupted her thoughts. His voice was warm and soft. It very well could have been a woman’s voice if it didn’t have a underlying baritone note.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been waiting for quite some time, frankly I don’t think I was ready to be taken away until now. I didn’t mean to startle you. The trolleys are at the end of the next isle. Grab one, come get me and we can sort the rest out once we’re out of here.”

“Oh… Yes… Oh…kay….”

Wobbly legs worked their way through the isles. She processed nothing, just grabbed the huge box in which her dismantled (talking?) cupboard sat in, and went to the counter.

Into the back seat he went. She sat infront and gripped the steering wheel.

“I’m Lionel by the way.”

Ok it’s real. She turned her head around.

“M.. M..Mel… Melissa. That’s my name. You talk. Is it the box talking or the cupboard?”

He laughed. “Cardboard boxes can’t talk, silly!”

“Well up until today, as far as I knew,neither could cupboards.”

“Fair point.”
It took her two days to put him together. She’d come back from work, turn the kettle on and the house would smell of coffee. He said he never acquired a taste and never understood people’s love for it. But in here, on her, he liked it.
For the last time she put her screwdriver down, swung the doors back and forth to make sure they worked smoothly and fell back on her bed.

“I feel good. It feels good to be in one, big, useful piece.”

” You look good.”

” So come on! Get your clothes out of those boxes. You have a cupboard now!”

” They can wait. I’m going to sit back and enjoy my craftsmenship.”

They laughed together. He liked this. He was home.



Lit Up

So you lost someone….not the death kind of loss, but the kind of loss that you had a little more control over…the kind where you had too many walls up, and they couldn’t wait around till you were ready to break them.  So they walked away in a storm and broke your walls. And the breaking was painful but beautiful. Light came in.

All those you cared about and knew you long enough to be able to peak through some holes in the wall could see the light.

And all those you got to know were welcomed into the light.




Accomplishments So Far – Part 1 – Hina

I wanted to start talking about my accomplishments by counting degrees or the companies I worked for but Anushka and I have decided that the achievements that really matter are far more individual and discreet, things we wanted to do as children but probably never considered as feats, especially after being corrupted by the ways of this world.

Sifting through photos from the last 7 years, and penning the Before 30 Bucket List has made me think a lot about what I have done already and how far I have gone as a person. My biggest achievement so far has been the wisdom I have gained over the years.

  • Volunteering was something that came naturally, never being much of a goal. But I always wanted to do meaningful and life-changing volunteering. So I volunteered at this awesome school for special needs children in Ajman for their academic year 2009-2010, it was commitment that made me travel all the way each morning just because I absolutely adored those children. The conversations I had with some of them and the camaraderie is something I will never forget. The older ones were my age and they thought me a lot about love, friendship and happiness. That year made me a far more humble, grateful and positive person, it was everything I wanted. There is no dearth of stories but there is one particular exchange with Nader (one of the smartest kids in his class) that had a profound effect on me:

Nader: I don’t usually cry but there is a poster of Michael Jackson on my wall, I cry sometimes when I look at it.

Me: Do you cry because Michael Jackson is dead?

Nader: No. I cry because I love him.

It was during my time there when I was praying once and had nothing to ask from Allah, except saying thank you. That never happens.

The Volunteering Days
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  • I believe that at this point in my life I have a better idea of where my priorities lay, it has helped me a lot and I have been able to make better decisions. This is also something I need to continue working on.
  • Realized that it is not impossible to keep in touch with people you care about and maintain friendships that truly enrich your life. Life is so constantly changing that it is important to have a few people whose presence is not only regular but who make the world more bearable.Collage2
  • Our society is increasingly individualistic and too much focus is placed on things we do on our own, without any help. I am not ashamed to admit that I look up to most people I know and admire them for knowing and teaching me things I would never learn otherwise. I also make a lot of mistakes and admitting them is integral to moving on. I am average and it is OK. Having this in my head is definitely an achievement.
  • Anushka, among others, is witness to the immense amount of love I have for myself but more often than not it has been a façade to deeply set insecurities about my worth as a human being. I think I have come a long way in terms of being comfortable with my appearance, my actions and knowing that if I achieve something it’s not just luck but I too played a role in it. I accept myself more and for someone like me, that is HUGE.
  • Accomplishments still under construction are confidence, socialising and a healthy lifestyle. I never thought I would sign up for a fitness challenge, but I did and it starts next month. I also never thought I would sign up for a glamorous makeover but I did, including a shoot for a magazine; it is not really my thing but I did it…yaay 😀
  • I had chucked my plans of studying abroad a long time ago and was happy attending college locally. It was an unfulfilled childhood goal but I applied to the Oxford University for a summer course and got accepted. Even though it is just a few weeks, I never thought I would study abroad, especially after completing my Masters. Also, most of my favorite writers went there. #triumph #chuckles

Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.” Robert Frost

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What’s important

Valid point from a stranger who’s turning into a friend:
somethings are not important…for sure..but when u love another..for what it’s worth, it’s what’s important to the other person that counts.

It’s at moments like these that i’m glad that his best friend/underwear buddy is this guy.

When it comes down to it I really dont care if even the person closest to me doesnt know where i’m from..but them not knowing my favourite band (somethin unimportant to some) or say, how trust worthy i am (something important to almost everyone)…now that would not be an ignorable issue.

Red and All the Other Colours

I stood on top of 18 stories…

Looking down, people looked like ants…and the song ‘Ants Marching’ by Dave Matthews Band, played in my head. It brought a smile to my face for some twisted reason.

The song was put on pause and the conversation I had with her began to replay. I had said, back then, that I didn’t value myself. I didn’t care what really happened to me.

The day before her father died she opened up to me about pretty much every secret she kept from all of us friends and she said, “You may not think this, but life is the best gift you could have. And when you said that, it hurt me, but I didn’t want to tell you. There are a lot of people who greatly value your place in their lives and they want and need you with them.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” I lied….

In life there will be quite a few people who will love you or think they love you, and this love, or almost-love may be much more than the love you can muster up for yourself. They may express it openly or from time to time. And sometimes the sheer knowledge that you are loved can save your life. You may be standing on top of 18 stories, looking down at the ants marching, and thinking about how fucking tired you are, how bored you are, how “done” you feel, and you may genuinely think there is no reason to live and you can’t care about whatever else life decides to throw in your way. But in your thoughts you may replay a conversation with a best friend, a lover, a parent, and you may think, “But at least they love me. Maybe I am worth more, if so-and-so thinks I am worthy to be loved, I might as well give life another shot.”

However pathetic or pitiable that reason may be, I would like to look back and think that those were the thoughts that ran through my head and that, that was what made me step off the black ramp that stuck out of the top of my building….

I really would like to…

I remember the rusty satellites that covered the terrace…

I remember how cool the breeze was, the moon was no where to be seen, but the sky was of a reddish tinge….I loved that reddish tinge…I remember thinking that living in a country that’s a desert has it’s own beauty in spite of the limited greenery. The dust in the atmosphere tended to converge with city lights and together they would dance and make love till, at the peak of dawn, they would give birth to beautiful, breath-taking, rusty-red skies.

I remember smiling, and breathing.. really breathing for the first time, knowing that it may be the last time I breathe, that I accomplished none of my goals, but for once I could not care.

And I do remember thinking about that conversation with my best friend.

But I do not remember thinking that I was loved, and that could be my reason to live.

I stepped off the black ramp. The ants , the streetlights, the vehicles were cropped out of my view, and I got the better half of the sky, the top of sky scrapers and the terrace wall, that was about as tall as me.

I stepped off, to sip this limited view into my sight because I was shit scared of how painful my death would be….oh and of course, what a mess I would make on that pavement down there.

Right now, with a shard of glass in my right hand, the bulging veins of my left hand stand out, dressed in red….I don’t want a funeral, but I do hope that if they do anything in memory of me, they wear red….I love red, just the way he loved how I looked in red.

Right now, in the midst of a million shards of my broken mirror…I wish her love would have saved me…I wish that any one’s love would save me.

But as I replay that same old, little conversation, that warm October morning, 10 years back, when I got late for work, when I cried for her and her father…and cursed life because it seemed so unfair…I don’t think of her love for me.

I think of how I miss her…I think of how I will miss all the colours and the red.

old mates

catching up, with old buds …there’s nothing like it……

and when i mean old buds…i mean the ones you’ve known before you got your period…ok if you’re a dude….maybe before you had your first wet dream….and the awesome part is that, even after years of not being able to talk to eachother…..you’re not far from comfort and familiar territory when you meet again…because you’ve established a deep, comfortable relationship, where you guys could talk about pretty much anything…..that and the maturity you acquire over the period you’ve been apart can make you you feel right at home with the first sight of an old mate….

i think that’s beautiful…

it’s like jumping onto one of those awesome, comfy couches…the ones you can just sink into and feel like you’ll be happy forever and ever…..

of course this isn’t always the case…..sometimes things change so drastically, that warmth has the faintest place in the aura that surrounds the two, three, 4 or more of you….

that…well….is like a colder leather couch…the ones you’d find in uptight corporate firms…the ones that make you want to just take a piss and walk away….

i think, however, that in meeting anyone…a significant amount of maturity, respect and love for the years you’ve spent together can break coldness…

of course the other people or person needs to be up for some loving too…


kyuss…..i love how they sound so much…it tingles my heart…the first song i ever heard of theirs….

reverse the spell

sometimes wake up calls won’t suffice…

the alarm will ring, i’ll sleep through it…

you’ll have a heart attack and i’ll say, “ah what happens happens”…

nothing can shake me up, wake me up and pull me out of my hole… even if i need to get out i won’t get out… i am skillful at justifying myself and best part it, it doesn’t even matter if you buy it or not…i need to buy it…i sell my excuses solely for myself to myself….i may even tell you the truth…but as long as it’s ok in my eye…it’s ok…

and today, i could sit put, and feel like shit and justify myself and get through the day….

even today a wake-up call, an alarm or some one’s heart attack would not wale me up…but for some reason, today, is today…today has something…maybe it’s the fact that it looks dark outside…in a desert a dark day mean the coming of a storm….but reports say it’s humid and just cloudy….

and maybe it’s the dull morning with no oranges or pinks in the sky that’s woken me up….i’m the kind of person who’s happier in winter, perkier when it’s raining…it’s like when the weather can’t make me happy with all it’s colours and decides to go blue, grey and black…automatically my body responds with a complete flip… (additionally staying it home will ahve it’s perks, i get to watch a movie with an awesome friend, but before that i’d be subjected to conversing and interacting with a person who actually has the ability to bore me to death and piss me off instantly….)

on these days old cassettes, or a good movie won’t do the job…i need to make a real move and bust out of here….

khamael…..i am coming to see you…..(if you can’t make it tomorrow that is…)…khamael, please call me back….i ave to get the hell out of here soon.. i may not be alive a month later…

this isn’t even connected…but there sin’t a time and place for good music…