Here’s 25 things you may or may not already know about me:

1. I learnt to swim when I was five years old, and had my ears pierced at age two :)

2. I’m arachnophobic, and have slight vertigo too.

3. I’ve been cooking since I was eight years old. My first successful meal was Maggi Noodles :)

4. I’ve changed schools eleven times in my lifetime, and no, I was never kicked out :)

5. I was born in Iran, I’ve lived for four years in Papua New Guinea, and spent a month holidaying in North Korea.

6. Sometimes people can’t tell if I’m a boy or a girl. (Put me in a cap, hoodie and jeans and you’ll know why).

7. I enjoy watching, observing, and listening.

8. I’ve slipped and broken off a tap in the loo, gotten stuck in a water tank at night, and walked into a TV table’s glass door and broke it. Most recently I bumped my head on the ceiling of a bus on a very shaky bus ride and cut my forehead :/

9. I still emotionally blackmail my parents into feeding me. I tell them, “Ek na ek din toh cholei jabo…” Works like a charm :D

10. I relate to people with their smells, and I don’t mean perfumes/colognes. Each person has their own unique scent, and if I like yours, you’ll know :)

11. I have an odd affinity for taking pictures of feet. But only if I like them.

12. I’m usually mellow around people I really enjoy being with, gives me time to absorb them :)

13. My memory works oddly, I can remember random things from anywhere/any time, and that too in exquisite detail. 

14. I love learning about new cultures, food, and languages.

15. I love music, but I can’t sing, nor play a single instrument :(

16. I can be quite flexible when I feel like it. I love exercising, it’s very rejuvenating.

17. I once had to hold my pee in for 1.5 hours while on a bus to Sirajganj. And when the bus stopped, there weren’t any toilets nearby so I had to do it in the nearby “jungle”. I tore off a fake nail in the process, coz I was in such a hurry :p

18. I can burp the english alphabet, and I shaved my head when I was twenty years old.

19. I will hurt someone’s feelings, if I think it’s good for them in the long run.

20. My favourite cartoon is still The Rugrats. I never get tired of watching, never will.

21. I prefer joking around with people who actually “get it”.

22. I believe I can get along with all sorts of people, age and intelligence no bar :p

23. I like reading magazines back to front. Don’t know why.

24. Double jointed people freak me out.

25. I’ve had stitches on my upper lip. Never noticed, didja? :p

The blooming midnight flower asks one night,

“Dear moon will I ever see the sun?”

She laughs a merry laugh and says,

“Only when the trees begin to run!”

-

Dismayed yet hopeful the flower waited

For morning light to break the sky,

Wondering patiently, with breath so bated

If the moon’s proclamation was indeed a lie.

-

The stubborn flower wilted not once

Even though the night crawled on,

It would not miss the splendid chance

To see in all it’s glory, the sun.

-

Illuminated soon was the bluish dawn

And streaks of light refracted in dew

The exultant flower then sounded a shout

“Oh magnificent sun, ‘tis you!”

-

The sun rose higher

And shone brighter still,

When suddenly the flower

Gave a shout quite shrill.

-

As each petal fell and each leaf burned

The sun said nothing, merely looked on

The flower, now quite puzzled, queried,

“What is wrong? What have I done?”

-

“Obstinate creature!” roared the sun,

“The moon did warn you, did it not?

The midnight flower wished to see me!

How I pity the poor thought.”

-

As the day sped forth, the moon emerged

It gazed upon the unfortunate spot

Where the flower once stood proud

Alas, nothing remained, not a dot.

-

Saddened, she murmured to the wind,

“The poor flower, it did my warning shun,

For it would still be blithe and merry

Had the foolish trees tried not to run.”

© 2005

            At five years old, I couldn’t have looked anymore like a boy. Sun-tanned, of slight built, and a mop of short, wavy hair. As I looked at the photo of me with my family back in November 1993, a smile broke across my face. The many memories of growing up in a foreign land suddenly came gushing back, and I willingly took a walk into the past.

            My parents, doctors, worked for the United Nations Development Programme, and in late 1992, my father got a chance to work in Papua New Guinea. In early 1993, my mother, younger sister and I also moved there. A tropical island near Australia, Papua New Guinea was still in the process of developing its resources. Its lush greenery and thick jungles were a sight. We lived in a town called Kiunga, an hour’s flight from the capital Port Moresby. Our house was located in the suburbs, a little distance away from the local hospital where my parents worked. The picture shows the four of us standing in our backyard. My father, smiling half-heartedly at the camera, dressed in a white and red checked shirt and dark slacks. My mother, holding my sister’s hand, and dressed in the local attire – a loose-fitting, printed maroon top and a blue sarong. My sister (all of two years old, by the way), stands in her bright blue plastic sunglasses, oversized dark blue skirt and white tank top. Then there’s me, arms behind my back, smirking at the camera in my favourite outfit - shorts, a tank top, and my prized red heart-shaped sunglasses.

            I remember the person who took this picture, a gentleman called Chaky. All I remember is that he worked on a ship, and was probably a captain. He’d visit often, whenever he was in town, and would bring my sister and I lots of goodies. I particularly remember these Milo Bars he once brought; they were the tastiest things ever! I think that explains why I’m a Milo aficionado even after all these years. Mr. Chaky hailed from Kolkata, hence the connection to us. It was a pleasant surprise to find people from the Asian sub continent; I suppose familiarity and roots travel a long way. 

            I could not help but reflect upon another picture I came across. It is of my friends and I at a cultural function at our school in Papua New Guinea. Our outfit includes a strapless top and sarong-like skirt made of the same red and white, floral-printed material. My friends, of both Papua New Guinean (similar to Negro) and Caucasian origin, look as misplaced as a square peg in a circular hole. We’re standing in two lines with our hands on our hips; and being the prima donna that I am, I’m quite nonchalantly smiling at the camera, not thinking one bit about how my antics might disrupt the formation. We’ve got flowers in our hair, and around our wrists, and our ankles have been painted in red and white stripes. Anklets made of grass adorn our ankles, and my ones are almost falling off! We had a fete during the day where everyone came and watched us dance on the school field. During the evening, we would have a drama, where only parents and family were invited. Everyone in school would participate in this annual function, and I would eagerly look forward to it every year. Spending four years of my childhood in Papua New Guinea greatly influenced my personality for years to come. Even now, I remember everything quite vividly as if it were two weeks back. The lyrics of the local songs we had to learn still ring in my head, “Ole mataa pi pi tau le kamu, ole mata pi pi tau le kamuu..”

            Coming back to the present, the clouds of the past clear away. I stare at the photos and smile once more. If I could, I’d like to relive those moments and meet those people again. To remember what I’ve forgotten, and to tell those that I do remember, that I will never forget.

© 2007.

Note: This was a submission for my English 105 class at university, where we had to pick a photo from our childhood and write a story/essay on it.

Beep, beep, beep. 

Oh no. 

Beep, beep, beep. 

Is it morning already? 

She opened her eyes a crack. Faint ribbons of sunlight seeped in through the heavy cotton curtains. The lemon-lime coloured material drenched the room in a mellow splash of green. Shadows from the tree next to her window danced against the window pane. 

Wide awake now, she spent a few minutes lying in bed, thinking of the day ahead. But that just reminded her of the day before, and the day before that, and so on. 

Nothing will change, she mumbles as she lifts herself off the bed and tumbles into the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, she runs through a mental checklist. Wash up. Eat. Shower. Get dressed. Go to work… 

Oh but wait, there was something different about today. She rushed out of the bathroom, and to her laptop. 

There it is. 

He had emailed her around two weeks ago. He was coming back home, and wanted to meet her.

Apprehensiveness crept into her heart. He had left her to look for greener pastures abroad. That was almost a year ago. Since that day she had lived same run down routine, silently awaiting his return.

She munched on a piece of toast as she waited for the water to heat up for her shower. She read the email again.

What does he want? Would it even be the same?

Ten minutes later, she was in the shower, searching for the shampoo. There didn’t seem to be any. Then out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a small blue bottle she didn’t remember seeing before.

She turned the bottle and read the instructions. One line stuck out at her: For better results, rinse and repeat. 

She smirked at the irony; it seemed like that a bottle of shampoo was giving her advice on life. 

Rinse, yes. Repeat? I don’t think so.

She finished showering, got dressed and left for work. In the car, a content smile played in her eyes as she gazed out the window and exhaled deeply. 

On her lap, the laptop let out a soft hum. Her eyes moved over his email. The cursor lingered over the Delete button. 

She pressed Enter.

© 2011

Note: This was my entry for RS Beta Writer.