Saturday, 31 December 2011

As this year draws to an end, I think of that which was, and that which wasn’t.

May the new year bring less of what was hurtful, and more of what was joyful.

Start with ambition, and a clear path. Follow it no matter what.

Find your passion and be merry - even if it gets scary.

Help those who are in need – they will welcome it indeed.

Keep your friends and make some new - it’s better to have too many than too few. 

May the new year be grand, and happiness abound.

May it be remarkable, as well as memorable. 

Worry not; dream anew.

All of this I wish to you.

Wednesday, 2 March 2011


Words can persuade,

The written word has the power to do all of the above.
But it matters most
because it lasts
when everything else does not.

Friday, 25 February 2011

In Memoriam

how fortunate we are
those as yet untouched by Death’s grief.
whether when friend, family or foe
are snatched by Its gruesome hands
the Agony is felt and heard alike
but alas! such is life
that gives but takes without regard
from those who still remain alive
who hope to see them once again
but alas!
who wait around
who are left behind
 who scream in vain.

Tuesday, 28 December 2010

Coup de grĂ¢ce

She wants to hold me back, restrain me, fight me. She wants to pretend I’m not there, but she feels me getting stronger, gathering momentum, seconds away from finding release. The moist closes in on me; I now lie in a pool of water. And break free:
I stampede out of the corner of her eye
and race through the length of her cheek
I travel the contour of her face swiftly
leaving a wet trail behind me
I arrive at the edge
of her chin and come to a sudden halt.
I remain stationary for a second as if balancing on a cliff,
until I can cling to her skin no longer and I shoot
I collide with the wooden floor, causing a watery explosion and splitting into a dozen droplets. As I do so, the words violently erupt from his callous lips:

I don’t love you anymore.

The words combust in the airless room, releasing a blazing flame that sticks to her throat like a choker. The ash seeps through her skin, travels through her veins and lands on her heart.

Sunday, 21 November 2010


Believe in morning dusks and evenings dawns.                                                                     
Believe in warm winters and cool summers.
Believe in dew that doesn’t wet.
Believe in wind that doesn’t stir.
Believe in stars that never fade.

Believe in moments that last a lifetime.
Believe in silence that speaks volumes.
Believe in pain that doesn’t hurt.
Believe in lies that tell the truth.
Believe in endings that never end.

Believe in healing poison and peaceful war.
Believe in loud whispers and tell-tale secrets.
In strengthening weaknesses and close remoteness.
In temporary goodbyes.
In real illusions.
In safe risks.
In endless life.

Think the unthinkable,
Imagine the unimaginable,
Believe the unbelievable,
And  make it happen.

Saturday, 30 October 2010

My blog isn’t even two months old, and I’ve already broken the (self-imposed) rule of updating it on a weekly basis. But this lack of activity isn’t because I’ve lost interest in blogging, nor am I suffering from a severe case of writer’s block. It’s just that I’ve been busy planning a little something I like to call the rest of my life.

Ironically, the language barrier has proven to be a bit of a problem. Are grants, fellowships and scholarships the same? Do I qualify as graduate or undergraduate? Should I go for a minor or a major? What's more, the world of academia is all about acronyms. Am I looking for a BA, MA, MFA or MLA? What do GSAS and GRE stand for?  What is the difference between the PB, the CB and the IB versions of TOEFL? So all my extra time and energy have been spent on thinking, researching, planning, dictionary-consulting and email-sending. 

But all this work hasn’t been without reward. My mental crossroads has morphed into a more recognisable form, that of a map of the United States. I have thus narrowed down the once numerous possibilities to a handful or so.  So, what’s next?

1) Sit for TOEFL and ace the damn thing.
2) Pray that at least one of the dozens of scholarships that I’ll apply for consider me worthy of their money.  
3) Pray that at least one of the dozens of colleges that I’ll apply for consider me worthy of their high educational standard.
4) Hope that immigration doesn’t realize I’d do anything for a green card (just kidding! Or am I….?)

Sunday, 10 October 2010

I solemnly swear I am up to no good

Warning: the full understanding of the following anecdote, its lexicon and references depends entirely on extensive knowledge of all things Harry Potter. Failure to comply with this criterion may result in puzzlement, head-scratching and loss of interest in the author’s work. Therefore, e-readers who lack Potter literacy are strongly advised to look the other way –or down, as the case may be– to more conventional posts in this blog.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -  -  

The end of term was fast approaching, and with it came the NEWTs – Nastily Exhausting Writing Tests. This was the only reason why the creative writers found themselves working hard in the junior common room one Saturday night while the rest of the student community engaged in more traditional –albeit health-detrimental– nightly activities.

The monotonous sound of quills scribbling away on scrolls of parchment filled the otherwise silent room, until overpowered by the more appealing sound of dance music, which was coming from somewhere within the school grounds. Unable to resist the temptation, and ever eager to procrastinate, two of the students set off on a quick recon mission and found out that a wedding reception was being held in the Forbidden Forest. At the mention of this information, four of the ladies there present exchanged impish glances and, without uttering a single word, rushed out of the room.

The fantastic four reappeared only ten minutes later dressed to the nines, wearing posh gowns and high heels fit for the occasion: they were up for some serious wedding crashing. Some compliments and a few warnings later, a tap at the marauder’s map told them the exact location where the joyous (?) union was being celebrated. With a look of unflinching determination off they went.

Once inside, so gorgeous and so beautifully dressed was one of the girls –let's call her Bethany– that she attracted the attention of a handsome young gentleman the minute she set foot in the dance floor. He approached her and after exchanging greetings, to the sound of music, their conversation ensued: 

“What’s your name?” asked the man pleasantly.
“I’m Bethany. And you?”
“I’m Travis. Are you here alone Beth?”
“No, I’m with my girl friends.”
“And who are your girl friends?”
“These right here,” she said pointing in their direction.

How confident her demeanor, and how friendly her manner. But had Bethany taken another look at the map, she would have realized that she was talking to none other than the groom, who was quickly joined by the bride herself. Luckily, the couple was too happily in love to make a fuss, and simply explained that that was a private event which they couldn’t attend. Embarrassed beyond belief, and upset that their mischievous adventure had been cut short, they turned back and ran in hope of finding a portkey that would apparate them right into a hole in the ground. Sadly, they found none, and had to sprint their way back up to the common room, where their assignments awaited, still undone.  

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -  -  

Disclaimer: all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons (ie: Stephanie, Camilla, Lorenza and yours truly),  is purely coincidental.