Back at it.

A book. Finally.

Life somehow is just not right if I’m not reading, writing, painting and cooking dinners for friends & strangers constantly. Because those are the finer things of my life. The little things that make me content and life worthwhile.

This is how I choose to rebel and put things right in the world that are not. Beyond laws, rally’s, protests, petitions, actions, and organizations. This is how I choose to create the most impactful change.

For those who never stood up for their rights let alone anyone else’s, have ended up on the door steps of Sifardan and transformed their perspectives on life over the dinner table conversations. Not because I said something impactful, wonderful or wise. Just because there was safety in the walls, confidence in the air, warmth in the food and a place where no amount of obliviousness could deny what a wonderful creature universe is. And despite you wanting to deny your own belonging in the world, you couldn't.

I, simply listened to nature who lead all these souls, including mine, to the existence of this place. I didn't create it. It existed, and I was simply granted with the privileged of being it's caretaker. 

Truth of the matter is, if the door is actually locked and the stove is actually cold the purpose of me being human is rendered pointless. Not because my existence is defined by it. But because it is who I am; and if I'm not being me, what is the point of being? 

A long time ago, lost in the trees of Aam Khas Bagh, the essence of existence, whispered in my ears, and I knew who I was. I've know since then, I will never make much sense to most. I will be an eccentric soul to the world of humans who write poems at parties with blaring music and makes tea at bars when/if found in one.

I've known for over two decades, there will be few if any, who will see the truth in what I say. But to most of you, these are mere fairy-tale. Fantasies created by my mind. Much like the girls following the wisps to fulfil her wishes, never to be seen again. Or the one who believed in pixies or talks to the fairies in other lands. Just stories one tells to make life seem colourful. But little did you know, Life is full of vivid colours, you refuse to see.

But it is so much easier to think I live in the clouds than to entertain the idea, that you might be colour blind.