A Love Letter to Spring

I was dutifully tending to my plants as if it were a delicate ballet of watering in the choreography of nurturing. I had forgotten the art of pruning and fertilizing them. I'd moved them from the living room to the brightest afternoon spot in my window (sadly, I moved my indoor plants to my window and my peace lily is was suicidal). On a Monday morning in February steeped in weariness, I noticed a slender stem emerging from the heart of the spider plant. At first, I dismissed it as an impromptu guest in my green sanctuary, born out of some seeds my mother might have just dumped in my planters.

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At times, she looks at him as if

he is a pastiche of galaxies.

Cold—oh! so cold—on the surface,

constantly undergoing a shift.

His eyes hold clusters of stars,

catastrophically beautiful, made

with all these colours she cannot spell.

Celestial Lovers

Written in 2018.


Such bright lights rest
within these stars; will
his eyes ever contain all
the radiance? His frenzied

fingers run through

her curious hair.

How did he find the

sunlight-condensed

dark hues melted
in her locks? She unlocked
the doors of her mind
in silence. He drifted in,

And it doesn't matter...

Sometimes you listen to a song on a loop till you no longer want to listen to it, yet you never memorise the lyrics; you find a comforting familiarity with its tune. There comes a point when you forget about it, until one fine day, it accidentally begins playing on autoplay from the playlist you saved that year, rekindling your once-surfaced affinity towards it.

Sometimes you visit a place, probably a place that gives you joy, yet the route to it consistently slips from your memory. While landmarks have made your memory their home, you fail to attend to the intricate details of the road. You arrive at a juncture where you start searching for a familiar place, not in the physical world, but in a person.

2023

If I have to sum up my 2023 in six words: reflecting on the poignancy of time.

My year in six pictures.

Van Gogh 360. A Sunday spent well with L.