Hallelujah... Heaven’s white rose... The doors you open, I just can't close...

Perhaps the kitten had a bad dream last night; he woke us up at 4am.

Ever since he had the flu, we are diligently taking measures to keep him warm. The heater in the living room is always on- the managed temperature of my house makes it hard to imagine that we are amidst the peak of Winter here in the southern hemisphere; but the first thing that caught my mind hearing those incessant meows at that ungodly hour is that perhaps he was cold?

As it turns out- Sherkhan, my kitten, needed some cuddles and a drink from the running tap (don’t even ask, he fancies drinking from the tap directly- rather than from his water bowl). He does not do it every day, luckily for us- his body-clock is pretty well-tuned with our routine; I decided he deserved all of the above and ended up not going back to sleep. Do you say we spoil him? We don’t really, we are just happy when it feels like he is recovering :).

Fast forward to now, I cannot believe that the clock only stroke 11am; and I have been up for the last 7 hours already! I’m sure it is insane in many levels! I’m at work now though... I still have 5 more hours to go. DANG!

This, my friends, is clearly not my day. On the other end- Crazy reports that the kitten is sleeping now- soundly- in his perfectly fitted cat bed... My groggy sleep-deprived mind is convinced that, in my world, TODAY clearly belongs to the kitten. How many days do we get in our entire lifetime, after all, when we get our way in every way?

At least it’s a quiet day at work.

[Title credit: Who’s gonna ride your wild horses- U2]

When we hear the voices sing, the book of love will open up and let us in... take these broken wings...

‘She does not have her heart in it’, they said, ‘Leave her alone. Who needs her anyway?’

... and then they left her- alone in the dark- fretting, drowning and thirstily drinking the dark magical nectar of her much-sought-after solitude. She has always been the 'recluse', you see?

Then one day the sun shone again: the darkness in her, she managed to tuck away in the furthest most corner of her soul, she looked up at the empty fields in the soft golden sunlight- everyone had left.

She knew in a flash that it was time again to build- with her own two hands, her twenty-something brain and her sun-kissed soul- it was time to shake it off and build... rebuild... assemble... reconstruct those rusty broken wings.

How many lives has she got anyway? It’s time again to live the ONE life that she's got. Yes, it's time.

[Title credit: Broken Wings by Mr Mister]

My Sherkhan

On the first day, he would limply wait for me to come to the sofa and nuzzle him in his soft glorious furs.

On the second day, he would hear my footsteps and weakly meow out in impatience, as if to say- ‘come to my sofa, mummy. I need you to nuzzle me!’

On the third day, he left the sofa to greet me eagerly outside my bedroom door- looking at me earnestly with his big blue eyes- all ready to be picked up and nuzzled.

Yes, there is progress but too bad there isn’t a fast-forward button. I wanted him to not-suffer so so much. There is hardly anything else at this time that I want more than to nuzzle my little Sherkhan who is not suffering even a bit.

'Home'

After 19 days of Dhaka sandwiched between two days in the air, I am back home... to a sick little kitten, a semi-messy house and an empty fridge.

There are a lot of things to be done, lots to fix: getting the kitten better, for one; buying food stuff, for another; seeing a shrink, for yet another...

I’m taking it slow. I’m owning things up yet again.

This little house of mine is still my home, food in the fridge or not; because it is where the sick little kitten is sleeping on my lap and it is where its past mid-day while I am still in my pajamas...

It’s good to be home, I just hope my little kitten gets better soon.

PS: I thank you all for reading and commenting to my entries even when I wasn’t able to reciprocate. I, too, hope to catch up with all of you in no time! Promise :)

The time between...

With all my flaws, conventions and un-conventions- I am here. It was never my priority to be popular; nor was it my intention to compete to be in your good books. I thought if I deserve to be, I will be there anyway. I have been ‘me’ instead and when I thought I needed the distance, I left.

You can perhaps say that I have been selfish. Perhaps I was, but I know I am a better person when I get my way- I am a free bird, with a gypsy’s soul and a capable brain. I am my best when I put my colours on the blank canvas to paint my life- not your colours, not his, not hers- but mine. I have my better qualities though- I am not scared of hard work, storms, rains or challenges... I cannot say the same about ‘intimacy’ though- because though I have always been emotional, I have also been a little emotionally distant. I cannot help it; it is a part of the package that makes me.

So... yes, I had left- and then came back because I wanted to and I know I will leave again. You have welcomed me back with your arms open and I know you will shed a tear when I leave. I knew that you care, I always have... yet, sometimes I wish you cared enough- because what concerns me is the time between that welcome and that tear.

... after all there hasn’t been a time when you did not try to ‘change’ me.

... with a few good friends and a stick or two...

The temperature here is not that much; the humidity though is another matter... but tempting as it is to stay in all day in the air conditioner, I would rather not. Who knows when I will be able to make my next trip here, after all?

This trip, so far, is going well; but in all honesty I am sometimes not sure if Dhaka is going anywhere at all. It does feel like Dhaka is choking... it is one of the most densely populated cities of the world and it feels like it, too... Dhaka is so crowded! If you are out in the roads- buses, trucks and rickshaws full of passengers... all looking for a ‘better life’...

... much like I did; like I had left this city for a better life... YEARS back.

I wish I could say that I now feel like I never left... I don’t. I feel the years, I feel the differences in me that West has instilled, my values have changed, I am a different person now... I do not want to come back here really- not because of the traffic jams, nor the humidity or the heat, nor the systems that I deem as inefficient... but perhaps for the lack of personal space- the way it is okay to be intrusive, the way it is okay to not to say a simple ‘thank you’ for the darwan who is holding the gate open for you. I realize I am a different person now.

... but that does not mean that I do not remember that this place was once my home... and I do think I made a good decision in taking this trip.

PS: If you are curious- my readers- yes, this hand in the photograph is mine, with the ring from Crazy that I have been wearing for the last five years. It is the view from a window of this house that we are living in.