Tag Archives: Prose

Sometimes, at Dusk.

sometimes depressing dusk

There can be something immensely depressing about experiencing dusk in the city.

Perhaps it is the sense of futility one gets from seeing humankind continue to rush around heedlessly, even as Nature prepares itself to succumb to the natural order of the world – Rest.

It is time to rest, but humans stubbornly press on, confident that we can squeeze out that last bit of efficiency to make our day more worthwhile. One more errand. One more meetup. One more call. One more hour.

By dusk, we are surrounded by dust from the entire day’s regrets, settling like a shroud around our unwilling body.

We are tired from running the race, demoralized to see that we are no closer to winning the race against time than a day before.

The dimming light behind the trees does nothing to calm our nerves against the growing dense of desperation, the sense that time is slipping through our very fingers, as subtle and as unstoppable as the air we take in.

It is dusk, and there is nothing we can do to stop its onslaught.

Sometimes, dusk in the city can be that beautiful, and that depressing.


Sometimes, before I sleep, I would grab a book off the shelf beside me – a book I have read before, and flip to any random page, just for some light reading to relax my over-active mind.

A few nights ago, I picked out ‘Elegance of the Hedgehog”, and my eyes fell on this paragraph, which immediately captured my mind like never before (so much for light-reading).

This pause in time, within time…when did I first experience the exquisite sense of surrender that is possible only with another person? The peace of mind one experiences on one’s own, one’s certainty of self in the serenity of solitude, are nothing in comparison to the release and openness and fluency one shares with another, in close companionship

And I thought of how, as much as I enjoy my own company, to a certain extent, being on our own too much, having to be on the lookout for yourself all the time, may make one into an overly-cautious person.

With the few close friends I have, being with them, as we go through the ups and downs of life, as we develop our relationship with each other, one conversation, one insight at a time, does give me a sense of relief and surrender. The knowledge that we can look out for each other, that we need not bear our burdens alone, that we can always count on the other to be there, gives another dimension to life that one might not be able to experience in solitude.

And then I slowly floated to sleep, with prayers and hopes for the happiness of all my close companions 🙂



Norwegian Wood

Norwegian Wood Screen shot

I once wondered what is it about rain that makes people love it so much. Where did the romantic idea of sitting by a window, reading a book in silence, while the rain falls outside, soothing our souls with its falling rhythm, come from?

I found the answer in Norwegian Wood. Murakami has never failed me yet.

“When it’s raining like this,” said Naoko, “it feels as if we’re the only ones in the world. I wish it would just keep raining so that the three of us could stay together.”

And it dawned on me that perhaps the nature of rain does have an inert power to make us feel safe, to make us feel as if we’re  enveloped in a cocoon, which nothing could ever penetrate. As long as the rain keeps falling, time will stand still. We are safe.

And in our world of constant changes, in our world where so many of us have been hurt because we trusted wrongly, where so many of us have been disappointed by lack of stability, we yearn for the security of the rain, falling in the distance, wrapping us in an invisible cocoon. We yearn for it, even if we know it will not last forever.

Oh Happy Day (I)






Sometimes its the things that we cannot hold in our hands, that last the longest.

Sometimes its the most short-lived of moments, that stay in our hearts forever.

Sometimes its the simplest things, that bring the greatest joy.

Do you believe, that everyday can be a Happy, if only we look for the right things?

Beauty in the Forgotten

Sometimes, by a stroke of luck, you come across places so quiet, so seemingly forgotten, that you sigh in pity for the souls on this boisterous and overly-vibrant island who might never come to realise and appreciate such beauty.

But at the same time, you know that it is the very layer of silence and sense of abandonment which gives these places their essence of quaintness and charm. Too many footprints, and the grass will not grow anymore, the birds will leave their nests, and even the sunlight which bounces off our skin might have a different weight.

We are fickle after all.