If there is a takeaway I have greatly benefited from this season, it must be the art of gratitude. And even saying that makes me sad because gratitude should be something ingrained in my skin for every little moment, every single one, good or bad. My mind has been bogged down by heavy thoughts about the world. I am lucky now to be able to think of things to do at home, to be able to write a story from them, to be able to try a trending coffee recipe, to be able to play with my kids, to be comfortable at home and have my family safe with me, to be able to use the Internet, to be able to follow an online workout routine, and the list goes on. And it doesn’t go on by the route of showing off,

As the world darkens, don't forget to count the stars, you'd be surprised to see so many of them shining a little brighter tonight, you might possibly lose count. And not just the ones in the night sky, but the ones hard at work on the ground - the doctors, the nurses, the janitors, the police and army forces, the garbage collectors, the supermarket workers, the ones who deliver our meals and our mails, the ones who deliver love in tough times, the ones risking their lives, the ones shining bright behind silent twinkles to save us. P/S: This poem was also written for today's writing prompt, "Don't".

The world may seem quieter these days, you would wonder if it’s pausing for a hug, if it’s embracing you with a kind of stillness you had never discovered, if recent raindrops had showered the earth with an extra lullaby, and you would wonder if the pavements leading to the school hallway, the roundabouts you‘d usually circle to get your toddler to nap, and the wide open fields that welcomed your first cartwheels are doing okay and if they remember the sound of your footsteps, except that they don’t even need to try. The world may seem quieter these days, but only as a way for you to listen. The footsteps of your children may form an orchestra of their own as they hurry down the stairs at h

Maybe the grocery list isn't just "butter bread juice" Maybe if we read between the lines, just maybe, we might find the tired handwriting singing out loud - "I want to bake you your favourite cake," "and even if I don't, I still want you smiling and safe," "I love you, stay safe."

Here’s to discovering a new favourite corner of our home, here’s to discovering the favourite corners of the sunlight, here’s to discovering a song to dance to in the living room, here’s to discovering different ways to make coffee, here’s to discovering the right music accompanying the rhythm of our hands as they whisk a trending coffee mixture, here’s to an added step on a skin care routine, here’s to discovering a daily routine that works, here’s to discovering a daily routine that doesn’t, here’s to discovering the different hours the kids need the same favourite snack, here’s to discovering the hours they don’t - which is almost never, here’s to discovering that these stairs could doubl

Today's writing prompt is "Phone Call" and since it's World Poetry Day today, I decided to record myself reciting the poem I wrote. This piece is a tribute to everyone battling Covid-19 in any way at all - the frontiners, the patients and families of patients, the ones facing tough times financially, the ones facing tough times emotionally, the ones who are separated by your loved ones, and simply everyone. This is for us. I hope this reaches your heart. Happy World Poetry Day and stay safe. :)

They say that the doors we are presented with in life are the first checkpoints to tiers of lessons we’ll need to survive, and it’s funny how I’ve started feeling the same way with the refrigerator door - the way I no longer swing it open for the cold bowl of grapes I thought I needed, but for the carton of milk I’d pour into my children’s bowl of cereal, before I stumble upon the bottle of my mother’s favourite fruit juice and I’d wonder when I’d get to share it with her again - the longing hurts, I wish I could store that hurt and all my other worries into the coldest part of this refrigerator hoping they’d freeze over, but instead, I shall pour myself a refreshing bottle of life lessons.

I guess in between all these uncertainties, the headlines we dread, the despair in the comments, the confusion these things bring, I guess in between all of these, I am grateful that we are home, I am grateful to have my daughter's smile as my only piece of good news for the day, I am grateful that we will all be a part of saving somebody's life and the way how when all of this ends, the earth too will finally feel at home.

How are you? We sure are living in confusing times now, and I have to admit, in between trying our best to hold on to hope and positivity, it sure can be overwhelming to consume bad news every other hour of the day. Here’s how I’m surviving for now: shifting all our toddler tables to the backyard so the kids and ourselves can get some fresh air during meal times and playtime. And, I write. Writing has always been an amazing therapy for me. I decided, to cope in between the consumption of anxiety-inducing news on a regular basis, I’d write a poem each day. I’ve set out prompts for every day of these coming two weeks, and will be posting my poems here. Above are the prompts which I've po

It may seem as if we were never quite prepared for this - this pandemic, this panic we wish we'd skipped, the possibility of falling sick (well God forbid) - it may seem as if we were never quite prepared for this, but not until we realize that a mother's heart is always prepared for more reasons to protect her child, and somewhere in between running out of things to do, somewhere in between wondering if we should stock up our favourite boxes of comfort food, we'll be glad to discover that we have been given opportunities to also stock up on kindness, compassion, self-care, a ton of memories we will build within these four walls, and most of all, love to keep each other safe. And with a litt

As the years go by, you will learn that the beautiful thing about growing up isn’t just the candles blown, but the way you light up into someone new, the way you’ll learn about the traits you never knew you had, the way they flicker not just in the dark, the way they continue to shimmer even with the years passing by. And while you steady your hands to cut the pieces of your cake, you will find that your hands grow steadier with each passing year, and the slices grow a lot neater and more even, but the best and most important part is that you’ll learn that what truly matters isn’t in the evenness of your cake slices, but in the way that you’re thinking of all the people you’d

Sometimes maybe the best thing about being a woman is the way you can hide your worries behind a facial mask and the way you can label your bad days as “hormones” until you start wondering if maybe all these hiding have made you not heard enough - when you raise your hands in class but they aren’t always as high enough, when you leave work an extra five minutes earlier to rush for your sick child and you find in your appraisals that you just aren’t good enough, when you stay a little longer for work instead and miss the pick-up time for your child, catching a glimpse of her eyes as if they’re saying that you‘re not here enough, when you stay home all day with your child wi