What makes you different?

So many writers and poets writing about what they love and hate, every emotion and every dream.

So many artists – Dancing, painting, crafting and singing.

What makes you different?

Does your work have a piece of your soul in it?

Can your work move those who read, watch or listen?

The day you answer yes to both these questions, is the day you succeed.

Artists cannot be compared.



An Archaic world where, friendships are scrutinised through the filters of gender, caste and creed.

Where physical illness, is thought to be the only illness a human may have.

Where hearts are broken and Fine-china cutlery, is preserved well.

A world at sixes-and-sevens with time, where doors are slammed and streets are isolated, Nets connected and hearts disconnected.

Diving head-first into a revolutionary technological era, meagre beings controlled by time, mindless moving, working and hustling.

No time for artists, street music and dance, leisurely peace.

Diving head-first into so called ‘reality’, defined by social constructs.

Sit down, wash the impetience from your hair and the haste from your body.

Live in this peaceful moment, this is your reality.

​Syria’s open letter to the world.

If Syria were to write an open letter to the world, it would go somewhat like this.
Dear world,

The women, children and men of my family appear on television quite often but not the right reasons; fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, daughters and sons are killed mercilessly.

The world sees my children suffer and people shed a tear or two, maybe even post hash tags in support and prayer but a day later a celebrity’s relationship status is the subject of their hash tag.

48 died in the recent suicide bombing carried out by Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), they are my children too but 

They have decided to wrong their own home; the world thus, turns it back on our issue thinking of it as something routine. This is not a cry for help, this is a wakeup call to all those who see us suffer and hear of our plight and yet haven’t uttered a word. 

Our lives here have become nothing but subjects of news flashes all over the world; does the UN carry out discussions in order to improve our situation? Yes, but we constitute one short sentence under one clause, just another country in the list of ‘should-saves. 

So world, please open your eyes to see beyond our tears, see our happiness that has been destroyed; we were regular people with regular lives and families. No, we do not train everyday to attack your country, in fact our children learn about your leaders in history and politics and look up to you. 

Brothers and sisters see and also speak. See that once you scroll beyond news about terrorist attacks in Syria, our pain does not pause; speak about what you would like to do to help us, we know you are kind-hearted and want to but you brush it aside because you think that there are people who are already discussing measures to be taken for our relief but that is not true, my friends.

Open your eyes and speak for what you see.
We are just statistics, but our emotions and our tears don’t seep through your screen. Through this letter I would like to tell you that an entire country is sinking in terrorism for no fault of its own, while you scroll past blood, tears and screaming; we live them.

Yours hopefully,


(Home to millions who yearn for a voice)


​Our hardwork is like the letter ‘a’ in the word ‘oak’, it may go unappreciated but it is significant; it is that which differentiates ‘oak’ from ‘ok’. This maybe a lousy example, but the point is – workhard even if your work is unappreciated because if the universe gave up because of the same reason we wouldn’t be amidst the world in its most extraordinary form. There will always be something you’re good at and your contribution is necessary to make the world a better place. Somebody will notice, And somebody will say ‘boy, am I glad ________ didn’t give up cause they lit up my world’ workhard until your day of glory. ☀


I met a stranger on the bus,

The old lady smiled at me with child-like twinkling eyes

So i smiled back without a fuss, 

she showed me a framed piece of cloth and asked me if it was nice.

The cloth had exquisite embroidery designs, 

Scattered across a pale backdrop.

She explained to me the nuances of each line,

She had learned all that, in a skill workshop.

Having lost her son, to a horrible fire accident

she channelled her energy towards art, like sacrament.

As she proudly looked at her piece of work, 

A huge smile streaked across her face. 

She has taught me that when dark times lurk, 

Its the simple joys of life that we must chase

She probably went home and hung the framed embroidery in her son’s room,

Next to the all the other embroidery she had done.

The simple joys of life will help us bloom,

and no more worries, we shall have none.

Maybe every noon she sits on her armchair, looking at the wall with the frames;

Thinking about how a part of her son is still alive in them.

The simple joys of life need to be enjoyed without shame,

For without them life would just be mayhem.


See the best in everything and everyone around you, there are flaws in all that exists.
Be deeply in love with the idea of embracing our flaws and imperfections that’s what makes us human after all. Its okay to laze around all day, its  okay to lose your temper sometimes, its okay to want be away from social interactions, its okay to be you. Your imperfections are beautiful and you have to love them; you have to love  your imperfections and those of others’ that’s what connects us, that’s what makes us human. 

Its okay to want to let go of things as they are right now  and want to travel, its okay to be your vulnerable self, its okay. 

Life through pink glasses, because we are all in love with each others emotions, dreams, imperfections, talents, interests, amusements. 

Don’t take these beautiful things that connect you to the world for granted, cherish them, love them.


We all venture far and wide for the things we can find within. 

Like happiness through emotional stability, ‘some one like home’ and most importantly peace. We find peace in the 2 AM laughter we share with our bestfriends but the truth is that we never really outlive those moments, we tend to still throwback to the moments that make our  hearts giggle like children.

What we need to understand is that sometimes, we have to let go not forget but “let go of the thought that things are the same as they were before”. We meet strangers on the bus and when they help us out and pass our ticket or even just smile at us – we feel a sense of  innocent happiness; we do not however, get hurt if they don’t get on the bus the next day, we live in the moment and cherish the beauty of that temporary happiness – spread it by smiling at another stranger.

Its hard sometimes to forget those who left, to forget those people who you thought were one with your soul; Realise that your soul is independent. People come and go but never let that weaver your vibe; they are like sunsets in that aspect, purple on somedays but somedays red like  flushed cheeks, Orange on somedays but just light blue on others. They’re moody and different you may not like them on all days but there’s nothing you can do, but cherish the days your favourite colour is painted across the sky.

We venture far and wide for the happiness we can find within by learning the art of ‘living in the moment’ and not clinging on to other souls. We all have a little bit of  nomad in us, let that nomad grow into a soul which knows that Nothing lasts forever, keep on moving.