All That I Know Now

There was so much noise, so much music around us.

People would visit all the time.

Christmas was eventful because, presents. Birthdays were bigger because, well presents also. They were better because they were just about each one of us.


And cake. So much cake. Food in general.

Food was a thing for us, wasn’t it?

Ice creams, chocolates, baklava, jalebis and laddus.

What were we celebrating when there were no obvious reasons to celebrate?



Success and the proximity of one’s dreams, lingering so close, around that corner?

I’d linger and take a right around that corner. I found chaos and contradiction behind the closed doors and four walls. Candles got blown, balloons burst, and the cello tape couldn’t hold the streamers up. The masking tape would pull the paint off.

I’d linger into the alleys where you would have nothing to give me. Where they would have nothing to offer.

Self – hate.

Now, 23 years away from the most evocative memory, I realize that I’ll take all the love you can give me or nothing at all.

No-face from Spirited Away


Burst My Bubble

I’d write a revelation on a post-it and stick it on the fridge, almost everyday, almost religiously, for a month.

I was going to learn the meaning of life. I was going to figure things out, have answers.

I felt mature, I felt smart. Things clicked in my head, I was on the move. But come nightfall, the momentum kicked me out of the house and into the arms of the world.

I thought it was okay. I was having growing pains and the comfort of all these distractions was my reward for adulting.

At the end of the month, I took down all the post-it’s . I must have learnt everything I needed to, I thought. I stood with my back straight, my brain as light and clear as a bubble and you came back.

The thing about bubbles is, they are pretty, but they pop.

Max Beckmann – Soap Bubbles


If I sit and think about it…

I’m broken.

We’ve been together for too long to have reached this point now.

What if, there’s no light at the end of the tunnel?

What if, you realize my biggest fears and this temporary split turns into a permanent one?

I always knew what I wanted.

I knew who I wanted to be when I was too young to know how to be it.

But you’re different. You fell into the water and let it show you all it’s tricks. You picked the ones you liked best and in time, you’ve discovered where you’d like to be buried.

Or so you say…

But what if …?

I can only hope that at the end of this you will come back with the same conviction you left with. That you will return with a spade to keep digging out our path, with me.

Till then.

I’ll be here, with a certain level of denial that I have decided to adopt.

Just enough denial to give me hope now, when I need it.

Dark Wave - Herbert Baglione

Now That You’re Gone

It’s only day 3.

I know I’m not going to hear from you and I can’t let you hear from me too.


I unlock the door and hope that I’d find you on the couch waiting for me.

I walk down the corridor and look back hoping you’d been following me.

I start the car and hope that you’re somewhere at the entrance of the parking waiting to say bye to me.

My fingertips remember how your skin feels.

When I take a breath I can lose myself in the memory of your scent.

The ghost of you haunts me. And even though I’m the one that called the shots, even though I’m the one that set the rules, I wish your ghost would come in your flesh and bones.


I want to tell you that I have my answer, but I’m afraid that you still don’t.

So I have to wait.


Now that you’re gone, I just have to wait.



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.