“i am how i respond to the events surrounding me at any given period of time.”


Quote  —  Posted: December 28, 2013 in Uncategorized

when we climb that mountain and look at the plains, we may think that we have reached the peak but a closer look at the footprints that we have left, tells so much more about the higher ground that we are yet to reach.


A couple of months ago, I resigned from my first job. I worked as a school nurse and found that experience a truly humbling and growing one. As a Toastmaster, english did not seem to be much of a hassle. I thought I could breeze my way into asking them where it hurts, how they feel and what remedy I can render, but I was wrong. It is so much more than talking and asking, so much more than questioning and answering. The true secret of such communication haphazard is called connection.


Truly, it was a mountain that I have climbed, but the true test lies in whether or not I can connect better with others, but on whether or not I can return to the foot of the mountain and climb another one.


At Toastmasters, we can take pride in connecting in our club. We have enjoyed the fellowship that they offer, and we reciprocate it with healthy (and friendly) responses. But outside the friendly TM chatter, do we share that same motto of communicating and connecting? Do we share the same ideals of leading and motivating? If not, then the summit that we have reached in our Toastmasters track have all been in vain.


The real higher ground after each mountain is climbed, is the determination to climb another one while carrying the life lessons that your last footprints have shared stories about. These will be the gale that makes each breathe swift and rejuvinating; the canopy from the blaze of the sun and compass amid the enervating doubts. This higher ground will cover your slumber and make it sweet, at dawn it will be the warm sunshine that greets you with hope, and it will be dream that fleets us to reach places we have never imagined.


And yet this higher ground connects us to where we truly should be. To be the leaders and communicators that we really want to be.





missing that moment was an everlasting torment.

it was tasting a feast with a only spoonful, and being forced to be sent outside and watch the rest disintegrate in midair.

the most excruciating pain is to actually love, and know in the end that the love that you have will never be completed, will never be whole.

it was a moment that brought the best in both of us, a moment that fashioned the masterpiece that we were called to be. but that was also the same moment that have brought about the rust of time and antiquity.

it was one of the best few words and actions that have touched and caressed. it was that time when warmth meant so much amid the winter’s chilling envelop.

it was the furnace that have shaped every contour of the art, it was the pastel that have brushed every color and distinct shade of this art.


and in the end, it was the art of forgetting, not the art of creating. it was the art of learning how to let go, to let the very ambers that have kept you warm burn every page that have scribbled the memories within.

the colors would serve the purpose of blurring the shapes and contours. they would soon darken every known vision of the said art, creating its own oblivion.


i have loved you for those short warmest moments…bt never have i thought that the very colors and warmth that we have created, were the same embers and shades that would soon dissolve our connection.

i still miss that moment with you…

a single touch between two entirely different entities just brings about a form of mystical energy. a force that somehow emanates true passion and affection.


but then again, there are those moments, when being forgotten is all that makes things perfect…


the slightest touch could revive each breathe and pulse with a distinct sensation for more…and such yearning is as struggling to exist..a longing to breathe and beat with the scent and melody of passion unveiled for a few moments…


that is how things begin and sadly end…a blissful few seconds, and a painful lifetime to spend without it…


but better live a moment that was worth every short millisecond, than to exist for countless ages, without having the melody in each heartbeat, or the fragrance for each breath…


such were the small drops that formed the great oceans of life. small dreams. short prayers. youthful aspirations…these all made the great ocean a body of life, a sea of myriad dreams, a plethora of prayers and hopes and aspirations for the tomorrow that horizons on it’s coast.


and yet, somehow, when it rains, we are reminded of how vast the great ocean is, and of how insignificant we may be…and yet we thrive to exist, to be creatures who have degrees, diplomas and titles. yet never a humanity-a humanity that is conscious of every breathing-living moment. a humanity understanding the essence of actually closing his eyes for that small dream, a humanity that whispers the sincerest heartfelt short prayer, and a humanity that never trampled on the aspirations of others, and uses his as a pedestal for the rest of his kind…


a humanity that shares that single touch with another living, beating and breathing soul. and a humanity that answers each forgotten moment with a dream, a prayer and an aspiration for a new day…

empty screen

Posted: December 12, 2010 in Uncategorized

sitting infront of an empty laptop screen infuriates me…

it seems that the world is drained enough of intellect that even creative imaginative juices fail to ooze from nubile minds…

what i see as teh predicament to this slow decay of our moral fabric, teh endless influence of media, technology that cripples us from rational thought and a whole lot more.

i see walls of social identity opening freely to teh liberalities of social inconsistencies…

the earth that once begged for a clearer statement of a lengthened truth now yearns for a whisper of hope, for a slight glimpse for that answer-which grows bleaker in its possible appearing.

as i see, the world is in a social confusion, with a worldwide acceptance and tolerance for such pandemonium. these marked evils became ‘differences’, ‘customs’, and other verbal garbage with a cherry on top.

to me, times have been calling us to return to our roots of humanity. teh core values of humanity that once fed the veins of the earth and gave breath to the living souls who tread upon her skin.

i breathe, realize that life is a second chance. a chance in every second. soon, i hope to fill teh empty white lines in my laptop screen with something sensible.

something that teh world will soon hear out. something that would fuel teh old veins that have dried from mediocrity and apathy.ideas once flourished in every heartbeat, and now, i felt teh slow poison of depression and frustration seeping.

heartbeats became beats… breathing became oxygenating.and living became mere existing…

Stories Starts Here

Posted: August 29, 2010 in Uncategorized

The opening lines usually depict the whole story.

But sometimes, the opening lines are just the few words that serve as bedroom alarm clocks, they just wake us up in the morning.  They wake you to a same world with new insights.

Today, when i woke up, i decided to put on that slippers, sit down and take a sip of coffee, then write about all the ideas that brew from here.

Great new morning to all.

Hello world!

Posted: August 29, 2010 in Uncategorized

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