In No Need Of Pretense January 6, 2010

With people you love absolutely, there really isn’t any need for make-up. they see how beautiful you are anyway, they know your flaws, they know the real you, they know the scars and the cheek-bones, they know your nice qualities and they know when you can be a real asshole! They can see through the camouflage and the pretense and the blue lenses that make you look so good and they will always love you unconditionally.

I guess we always know this subconsciously. It all came to me when I was perusing through photographs of a very fashionable friend who won’t ever be seen without make up and perfect hair – at a grocery~! I saw her pictures with her family. She was plain, simple, sans make up and all the pretenses. She was looking beautiful and this time it was the beauty deeper than her skin, conveyed through the joy her eyes – the joy of always being surrounded by people she loved and those who loved her in return!

Cheers to the new year!

Beautiful Poem of Bereavement For My Dadi August 31, 2009

I lost my Dadi last year on the 5th of September, which was also the 6th of Ramadan according to the Islamic Hijri Calendar.

I still dream of her.

I still like to pretend she didn’t ever exist.

And I’d rather never ever talk of her.

Or write. But this is the only dignified way I can grieve.

Recently, I’ve been addicted to Desperate Housewives. Finished watching Season 4 and now onto Season 5. The poem Mrs. McClusky recites for Aida, before they sprinkle the latter’s ashes, touched my heart.

Upon reading the master piece over and over, I felt it fits this old woman who was always vibrant and alive and who left us forever.

Dadi, this is for you.

“Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.”

Mary Elizabeth Frye – 1932