Tuesday, October 07, 2003


She watched her own reflection closely, scrutinizing every single inch of it. A stranger was standing in front of her, an image she has known her entire life yet still a stranger. She touched the reflection with her fingers. The coldness of the glass was transmitted to her fingers and moved slowly to her heart before it was disbursed evenly. She shivered slightly.

"I don’t know this person", she said to herself. To her amazement, the reflection sneered at her. She curled up her eyebrows wanting to ascertain of what she had just witnessed. This time the reflection not only sneered at her, but she also burst out a roaring laughter that tore up the silence of the air. She jumped backward, trying to keep herself away from the mirror.
"Don’t escape from reality", the reflection said abruptly. "It's here and it's real", she added while moving herself forward as if to assure her that she's real.

"You can’t be real. There is only one of us, it's either you or me." She exclaimed in fright.
The reflection looked deep into the black centre of her eyes. "Don’t say things which you are not really sure of. I could be your reflection and it could also be the opposite. You could also be my reflection. It's just a matter of looking at it from a different perspective. In this world, you are my reflection, in your world I’m your reflection. The string of words flow out with such an assurance that made her doubts her own existence.

She stood there, one hand gripped the other, asking herself: "Am I real? Who is real?"

Friday, July 25, 2003


Travelling on the midnite train has been her passion. Somehow, she failed to find the schedule that fit her destination. The midnite train that brought her alive the living memory from the past.
It was a spacious house with a big yard, constructed sometimes during the Dutch Colony. The house has floor-to ceiling windows that look out over an empty deserted land. A couple hundred meters away on the uninhabited land run the sturdy train tracks. Two bars of the longest iron cutting across the land, like twin giant glossy snakes moving in parallel.
At night when the darkness had fallen onto the lap of the earth, she waited for the signal to come. Ting…tong….ting…tong….ting….tong, the midnite train was approaching to pass. She kept her eyes half open. As the train was passing by, she felt a sense of sublime and anxiety brewing in her heart, stimulating her mind to unravel the enigma of the destination of the midnite train. The minute the train had gone, she felt part of her went away with it to a place she would die to know. As she woke up the following morning, she would throw a glance to the railways as she hold the belief that they would bring her to the answer.
On one morning she decided to skip school and embarked on a journey to solve the haunting enigma. She decided to follow the train tracks that would lead her to the destination. In the beginning, the journey was so fascinating for the attraction of the mystery of the midnite train was too extensive. Along the way, she found many exotic objects, such as colorful pebbles, broken painted glass, a piece of magnet and put them all in her weather beaten bag pack. As the sun reached the peak of the day, the horrendous heat and sores that bit her feet drove the claw of despair to grip her tightly. She was suffocated for the end of the track ways was absurd.
She arrived home in the afternoon with a tattered mind. The destination of the midnite train remained a mystery. She was so tired on that particular night and failed to notice the midnite train for the first time.
As she woke up the following morning, she was clear in her mind that the day would be hers and the mystery would be solved. She went to the window to know what the invisible hand had to offer her. As the sun rose in the east, the glossy surface of the train tracks were glimmering and glittering before it petered out in the horizon, like a stairway to heaven. She ran to her mom and announced her discovery with a glowing triumphant smile: “Mom, now I know, the midnite train takes all the passengers to heaven.”

Thursday, July 24, 2003


The early morning dew landed on the ground, penetrating the pores of the earth. The fragrance of the wet damp soaked earth stung her nostrils. She shuddered as the gust of the cold midnite breeze patted her skin. The night was wearing its darkest and gloomiest shadow.
In the middle of the flirtatious sound of the cricket, she felt the presence of a shadowy invisible being. She felt small and belittle by his aura of command and by the glow of authority that radiated from his presence. She stiffened and gathered all the courage in her. She expected a hasty aggression to appear in this enigmatic ambiance.
A loud roaring laughter broke out and tore apart her nerves into small tiny particles. She pulled the strength in her and gathered all the crumbles of her courage. She greeted him haughtily and posed a rhetoric question: “Have I in any ways broken any unwritten convention here?” I meant no harm to any being but to have a discussion with the fireflies?”
He coughed coarsely and sounded like there was a dense cobweb in his throat. Are you in search of the spirit of the death?, he exclaimed in a voice that infiltrated deep into the night.
“I’m in search of hope “she said in an abrupt manner, not wanting to let him peek into her apprehensive heart. I wish I could find her in these hours of darkness.
“All the hours of darkness have long been traded in to me. The entire nights are mine. Any existence that dwells in this time and space is under my jurisdiction. Hope does not live here.” He retorted snappishly, somehow she could feel a vague empathy in his response.
“I wish she would have showered her piety upon me. I have been haunted by a vision, in which I see myself as a living programmed mortal. I see my own pictures in some cubicles performing the flawlessly part of my roles. I wish I had a chance to add a small picture in it. I expect Hope to lend me a hand."
Strange enough, the invisible being was locked silence. She felt the air of nothingness occupying the space for a few seconds. “Disclose to me your dream…the picture that you long to insert,” he whispered softly as if he knew that she would have been wanting for an unattainable wish.
“A heart”, she impulsively replied. All of a sudden she poured it out to this being… a stranger that somehow brought alive the creep in her. The long buried feeling in her sub consciousness spurred out likes the stream of water that flow from the top of the hill down to the river. She had never shared this feeling to any living mortals. The feeling that had been buried for so long in the graveyard of the nameless.
Her Hope was dangling and drifting in the sky. The moon was strolling slowly and brushed her with the tender strokes. The stars were twinkling brightly to lighten up the hopes.

Wednesday, July 16, 2003


The parade was moving stealthily along the boulevard like a giant dragon that crept along the street. Flocks of people were flinging on the curb of the streets. Some preferred to linger inside their cars and pulled their windows down. They swayed their hand with faces of enthusiasms.
She was standing there among the crowd, watching the world swaying by in the state of total innocence. Her body shuddered as the huge clock banged and filled the emptiness of the sky. There was an invisible presence of enigma in her mind, occupying every silent corners of her mind.
She abandoned her bodily being and locked behind the cage of solitude. In this cage she was dragged away by her imagination into a state of perpetual delirium. Floating, drifting, wandering like a crowd of gypsies searching for the meaning of existence. The cage has been so suffocating, especially in this mortal silence of the heat. The intriguing and fatiguing chore of life exposed her to the haughtiness of the spirit of life. The intense efforts to keep life free from lice and nits had reached the empty air. Moth has perforated her life.
The parade of life is still in motion. She is trapped in this space, locked in the cage of time and being, frozen…

Wednesday, July 09, 2003


She sat in her comfortable chair looking through the window that provides her with the view to the world. A blue robin landed on the windowsill.
“Good morning”, she greeted him cheerfully for she’s happy to see him again. The bird looked at her and flapped open his wings to give her a warm hug.
She moved closer to the window and pressed her fingers against the glass and murmured: “Thank you. So… what’s the news today”, she asked him.
He pointed his beak to her.
“Me ?", she exclaimed in surprise. “What has made me so special as to be covered by the news?"
The bird chirped while moving back and forth on the windowsill.
“Aha... you think I’m lucky to be on this side of the and occupy this room?”
The bird nodded gently and chirped again.
“I do have many things in this space. I have to admit that,” the lady exclaimed.
The bird flapped his wings and flew around the window, before he landed again on the sill and waited for her answer anxiously.
” You want to know if I’m happy? Hmmm… let me tell you this, I always envy you for having those two precious wings. I dream of having the freedom to fly, she said as she closed her eyes and daydreaming. “I move along with the wind to those places I have never been. I can be closer to the sun and feel the tender stroke of its beams against my skin. I don’t have to worry about my chair, my room, and my desk. That’s what I call ….”. The moment she was to finish her sentence a squeaking sound filled the air. She opened her eyes in dismay, and saw a bigger bird was chasing the blue robin. She felt so sad and sorry for the blue robin. She wondered if the blue robin would survive.
She went back to her comfortable chair and focus on her computer. A statement popped up on her screen:

How many joys are crushed underfoot
because people look up at the sky
and disregard what is at their feet.
(Attributed to mother of Johann Strauss)

Saturday, July 05, 2003


Everyone thinks he's such a cute and adorable boy, so does the girl thinks of him. He's only four, fat with spiky hair and splitted eyes. He's a menace. He turns the house upside down. He sleeps late at night and cries out loud everytime he's uncomfortable. Sometimes life with him turns to be a real nightmare to her.

All was silent except for the soft breath of the climatiseur. With thumping heart she made her way into the living room, downstairs. As her eyes became used to the dark she could make out a little figure. All by himself. He was leaning forward to the window. He exposed his head to the night air. She could heard a soft babbling noise. The boy was talking. She called his name twice, he stopped talking but didn't turn his head around. Silence.... silence was the reply.

Suddenly the boy whistled his own message toward the tree. The night echoed a strong, clear squeaking sound. The sound of beating wings. Hundreds of bats surged out of the tree. They blocked and darkened the view through the window. She could see nothing but a swirling swarm of grey.

The boy turned his body around facing her. He was wearing a cloak. He looked at her with a horrifying expression. A sneer was curling up on the corner of his lips. He moved toward her direction and his white little sharp teeth shone in the dark as a blitz of light falls upon them. She felt so creepy that made her paralized from head to toe. She was grasping for help. Her voice got stuck on her throat. She was so petrified and ....

It was still very early in the morning. She felt something warm and wet creeping on her PJ. She was struck by it and opened her eyes. The little boy was looking into her face with his innocent eyes and smiled. His pants were all soaked. He landed a warm kiss on her cheek and said:" I love you and gave her a hug. Her eyes were locked in silent conversation with him.

Thursday, July 03, 2003

Wednesday, July 02, 2003


He's not the type that would make the traffic stop. In fact he's simple and plain. Despite this fact, she was madly in love with him. Amongst all of the available choices, she preferred him.

Her mom introduced her with him at the airport, upon her arrival from a trip overseas. She could hardly breath when she saw his smart look. She knew right away that she had fallen in love with him. She was close to giving him a hug, should the moral fiber allowed her to do so. Soon after, she made her confession to her friends and they claimed that they would have done the same should they had been in her position.

Poor him! After he's been with her, the entire universe evolved around her. She chose any time and any mood to be with him. He hardly got a chance to put his feet up. His days were scheduled just for her. There was a time when her mom grumbled and yelled: “ Give him a break!” She just laughed and pretended that she was hard at hearing.

A misfortune brought everything to an end. On one ill-fated evening, she went home with him riding in a taxi after spending a night at grandma’s place. She was really busted and turned to be a bit out of control. She left the taxi without saying a word to him. Ever since that time, he's no where to be found. He has vanished into the thin air. She could never forgive herself for behaving inappropriately. She has left him there, in the taxi, her brown pair esprit trousers.

Tuesday, July 01, 2003


The cold air was biting her and made her quiver. She sat there all alone in her room on the top floor of the building. The window provided her with a breath taking work of art of the nature. As the sun was about to dive into the horizon, the beams brushed the sky with grey, orange and yellowish strokes. Flocks of birds were dashing home, flapping their wings elegantly among the drifting spongy clouds.

The picture of a young woman standing in a play ground was brought into her mind. Summer had almost ended at that time. The playground was empty as the sun had expressed his boredom to shine that day. She was holding a book in her right hand and a bag was hanging on her shoulder. The gust of cold wind blew her hair away, blocking her view. she held her jacket closer to her chest. It wasnt easy for her to be in control of all the stuff she had in her hand. She looked around and found only the falling dead leaves spinning on the grass. She called out a name a couple of times and was greeted by her own echo that twirled back to where she stood.

Faintly she heard a soft sigh coming from the tunnel. She bent her head down to peek into it. A little girl was sitting in the tunnel. She sat there all alone hugging both of her knees close to her chest. She was sucking her tiny dirty thumb while an empty gaze was carved on her face. As soon as she saw her mother's face the flame inside the kid's eyes blaze. She pulled out her thumb and murmured softly: "Mommy, I miss you. "

She wished that the blue robin would appear on the window sill just to greet her. Loneliness is undeniably suffocating.

Monday, June 30, 2003


A famous piece of a pop musical group spread throughout the cosy place. A mixture of age and types of people were all over the place. Some were sitting comfortably on the floor reading a book, some other were walking between the bookshelves, whereas the end corner was occupied by the trio, making their best effort to entertain the visitors with their tunes.

The girl walked around the shops. Every now and then, she grabbed a book and put it in the small basket. She finally got a basket full of books and went to see her mom. She shoved the basket to her mom’s view. The girl believes that all those books will lead her to the land of knowledge.

As she slurped her coffee the bubbles of her thoughts were brewing in her mind. She went back far to the past, to the time when she was at the girl’s age. She kept some small black polished stones in a box. Every time she was hurt she opened the box. She felt like sitting on a piece of cloud and got drifted by the wind to the land of no worries. She danced luminously in the horizon and sat comfortably in the lap of the universe. She felt the mind-blowing happiness creeping inside her though for only a fleeting moments.

She let the girl enjoy the same journey and believe in the magical power of the books. In the end she will learn that the magical power lies in her being, her existence whereas a book is just a gizmo.

Saturday, June 28, 2003


The sound of the brake clutching the road ripped apart the silence of the cold morning air. Crassssshhhhhhhh… his body flew into the air and hit the front part of the taxi. He rolled down from the car and laid flat on the road. The taxi driver dashed out of his car. Two men burst out of the crowd. They carried the man into the taxi, while the rest of people stood still observing with curiosity as if it watching their most wanted “wrestle mania” show. It all happened in seconds, one of ill-fated moments for the man and the taxi driver.

As the taxi driver was about to leave, a man who claimed himself as a journalist, arrived on the scene. He took the taxi driver out of the car and played the leading role of a hero. A lady shoved her head out of her window and shouted out reminding them about the injured man. Two policemen, as has always been plotted on any movies, arrived on the scene later and took over the case. It took sometimes before the taxi left with the injured man and the police.

She was there right behind the scene. She witnessed everything and felt uncomfortable. The girl sat quietly and nicely next to her. She knew that the silence was fake and she detests this frozen moments. The girl might have heard her unspoken wishes. She turned her head, hesitated for a moment and asked a question: “Why didn’t you help him?”

She didn’t know where to start. She definitely didn’t want to start with the torn apart social values and norms for it would have opposed with all the comforting and pleasing values and norms preached at school. An ugly picture that she herself had witnessed, and above all she saw her own face in that picture. A picture she had just drawn in the na├»ve canvas of the girl’s mind.

She pretended as if she was focusing to the traffic. Her mind was boggling with the question. The same very question which is valid for everyone. The same question, which has been laid there in the corner of her own mind, frozen, unanswered.

Friday, June 27, 2003


Tuesday, June 24, 2003


He looked dashing in his "army uniform". Standing on the other side of the street with the palm of his left hand resting on his hips, he inspected every single inch of the nearby area. A serious and responsible expression for the well being of his surrounding was painted on his face. Then he moved sturdily and crossed the street. He turned his head to the right side and inspected this part as well; every single dust on the street could not escape from his suspicious eyes.

Close to where he stood, a crowd of children were playing "kasti". The crowd of children had been playing since two o'clock when the sun was right at the top of the world. They occupied almost a third of the length of the street for the game. Every now and then they had to stop for a while to avail the streets for the traffic. As they screamed and yelled, the sound penetrated the houses and creeping into every bedroom, disturbing the afternoon naps of the neighbourhood. The odour of their sweat, the excitement, the noise and the dusty street gave its own characteristic flavour to the street.

Another two houses further up from where the game was held, standing a group of men and women at the curb of the street. A visitor might be amazed to find out that the crowd gather for nothing, but to socialize, a sort of an afternoon teatime in England. Most of them were still in their office uniform. They watched the children playing while title tattling about their neighbours, politics, love, or any topics that come across their crowded mind. Once in a while when the game was reaching the peak of its excitement they stopped and supported their favourite team or criticized any player that failed to contribute points to the team.

Nobody paid much attention to the army man. However, they were aware that he was around, considering that they made a lot of attempts to block the ball from flying to his direction. The army man once again turned his head to the right side. This time his gaze was glued to this side. He must have spotted something. Slowly he slid out from the bench and stood, he gave a precautious look as he watched an ice peddler pushing his cart forward through the crowd of kids.

The iceman finally managed to break through the crowd and passed in front of the army man. He waved his hand to the iceman and requested a chocolate flavoured ice. He got back to his bench with the chocolate ice in his hand. His eyes turned big and wide every time he slurped the ice slowly and passionately. He was enjoying every single drop of the ice that went down through his throat. As he arrived to the very best part of the ice, the part covered by frozen fudge, all of a sudden, a wild ball flew into his direction and hit the ice in his hand. The ice splattered into his face. His thunderous loud cry broke the afternoon air. The crowd was startled and remained frozen for seconds. Everyone automatically turned his or her head toward him. A lady bursted out of the crowd on the spur of the moment and ran to her 4-year-old kid in his army uniform. He was crying loudly with melted chocolate ice covering his face.

Monday, June 23, 2003


She held Dicken’s masterpiece "A Tale of Two Cities" firmly in her hand, Love and justice that burned out during the French Revolution. She had arrived to the part of sacrifices in the name of love. She sat stiffly in tense. A moment or two she inhaled a deep breath and held it for a while, like she would never exhale it again. She felt the real value of the sacrifice. As she finished that part, she blew her breath in relief and sunk her body in the fluffy and comfy settee. Relax in the white and green striped covered settee, both of her hand resting down on it, touching and caressing it gently.

She moved the settee from her bed room to the living room, facing the garden. It could hold three persons with comfort. Actually everyone had been very happy to have the settee in front of the television set. As a replacement, she put another smaller comfortable gray covered comfortable settee with an ottoman in front of the television set. The settee was too big for one person but too small for two. The entire member of the house had expressed their objections when she did it. Her husband was one of the most furious one. She did not react to any of those objections. Lest she might ignite fires of arguments about those two settees she pretended that she was hard at hearing. She witnessed the struggle to conquer the settee among the members of the family during the television show time; still she remained silent, and kept her reason deep in the most secretive place of her heart.

A deeper and closer look into that home and their usual routine life, will actually reveals her entire secret, a secret, which is barely a secret but the naked fact of reality, a natural impulse of a woman. At television show time, she sits there in front of the television with her children. All in one settee, a settee that could only hold one person, were packed with the three of them, squeezing each other, close to each other. One sits in front of her on the ottoman and laid back to her stomach. The other one sits next to her in the settee. The warmth of their togetherness, the fight for the best spot and all the arguments are just another scrumptious dimension that paints the color of their routine life. Something that can not be assessed based on its face value. The settees that turn the house into a home, and produce the warmth to her home.

Saturday, June 21, 2003


It had been drizzling outside. The teen-age girl took the front seat. Her eyes were glued to the messy traffic. She was silent; in fact none of the three persons in that car said any words. The only perceptible sound came from the climatiseur, sizzling and hissing all the way throughout the journey. Though irritating as it has always been, at this moment, she preferred to tune to it.
Her mom was behind the wheel. A forlorn and disappointed expression was marked clearly on her depleted face. Nobody knows what was twirling in her head, but they all knew that she preferred not to be disturbed. Every time a bus stopped and blocked her ways, she hit her right hand against the horn. Senseless and idiotic but the pressure was probably boiling in her mind.
Grandma, the only person that gave a content gaze, was sitting at the back. She considered what she saw in front of her as merely shadows, a natural phenomenon. She let her mind wondered off to find the “real pictures” or “ideas”. The scenes of the party last night were now playing in front of her eyes. All her children, grand children, great grand children, brothers, sisters and friends were all there. A wise way to escape from the depressing reality.

All the bits and pieces were scattering all over her room. This time, after so many times, her mom yelled and instructed the girl to put all her bits and pieces back to the appropriate place, into the proper boxes and drawers. The girl moved and grabbed all her stuff. She shoved everything into one box and closed the lid. The box was too full so the lid got stuck. She pushed harder and harder. It didn’t work and somehow the box was almost crashed. She lifted the box and threw half of the content into another empty box and closed the lid. Done! At least that was what she had thought. She had not had a faintest idea that the bomb was ticking, on the verge to explode.

The clock was ticking…so was the bomb. Time was moving like a jet plane. The three of them were busy searching. They emptied all the boxes and drawers but the tiny little piece of “high” value was nowhere. The girl knew that it must have been somewhere in one of the boxes or drawers, but where? It must be there, she remembers shoving it into one of them. Time was very uncompromising. It dashed off with no delay. That tiny piece was nowhere..........

“Darn”, her mother shouted furiously. The explosion had burst out her head and merge with everything else. Like a big balloon filled with water, it blew up in the air, and the water splattered all over the earth as it landed. It was dreadful and nasty. She was shaky and so was the girl. Both of their hearts were shattered into tiny inches. It was not only about grouping the real bits and pieces but it was also about grouping the bits and pieces of life and shoved them into the incorrect places. She held firmly the steering wheel and almost sunk her fingernails into it.

Friday, June 20, 2003


Splash… droplets of water burst out of the pool as she jumped into the water. Her body sank gracefully into the water and submerged below the surface level. The blue water touched her skin and caressed it tenderly. She can feel the softness of its touch and closed her eyes to let the heavenly feeling flow into her veins. Like thousands of ants in their early morning march, the feeling crawled inch by inch and reached the entire parts of her body. As she swam back and forth, the feeling grew stronger and stronger. She swam around following the blissful music of her heart. Strange enough, why does suddenly this feeling emerge…?

Splash… the word beeped in her memory. It brought her back to the last week's conversation, to the time when a young boy came home to see her daughter for some school stuff. He was driving a fancy car. As he walked through the entrance with full confidence, he greeted everyone with a well-polished manner. Her daughters’ eyes were shining, an elevated joy of having somebody special visiting her.
“I know all about making a splash”, her mother exclaimed. Her teen-age daughter dived into her mom’s eyes and swam around as she was making her best effort to understand her mom’s statement. "He might be a splash that gathers the crowd with his gentle appearance. The crowds wont stay long unless you give them a good reason to stay. Don’t get blinded by appearance. A conceited artist could perform his role exceedingly well on stage."
The girl's eyebrows moved closer to each other as she wrinkled her forehead. A perturbed feeling was painted on her innocent expression. Mom smiled to her daughter and touched the tip of her nose. “You don’t have to understand everything now, but you will definitely understand me later when you grow up.”

As she swam and splashed around the pool, her mind traveled back to the splash story that had happened to herself not only once in her lifetime. Those splash stories that glue strongly in her cognition. One after another, they were all splash, the natural stage of a being teen age versus the natural instinct of being a mother. That's what keeps this mother daughter relation alive.

Now that she understands why she had to go through all those splashy moments, she longs to have her mom with her, especially today at her mom's special day. Happy birthday Mom!!.

Thursday, June 19, 2003


Sniff….sniff….. The smell of cheese had been dangling in the air. They ran in the maze wildly. One kicked the other, one ran ahead another. At the intersection, they stopped for a while. Confused to turn left or right. One of them took the lead; he curled up his nose and sniffed around. He turned right and the rest of his squad followed.. Mountain of cheese lied there in abundance. Watery mouths are opened widely. The white flashing teeth sunk into the succulent yummy cheese. Yum… yum…yum…

She sits there in the comfortable chair and watches MTV. Her feet rest peacefully on the ottoman. The blaring sound of music filled up the house. It roars and shakes the house down. She sings along with the music and contributes another freaky noise to the air.
The sound of the car entering the house is an alarm for her. She quickly turns off the television set and runs to her own room. She sits nicely by her desk with her books widely open. She gives an exasperating look, a typical look that one would give after a full day of studying

As usual they stop at the intersection and wait for the leader to lead. The leader curled up his nose and sniffed around. He did not catch the usual cheesy smell from the right side, instead it is now somehwere else.He gave a strange look, and patted his nose with his paw. He sniffed again… and lifted his eyebrows to communicate his confusion. The mice were panic. A hysterical reaction filled the maze.

She was extremely uneasy. Though she turned her voice down at the lowest level, the phone conversation could be overheard with clarity. “Grams…I am afraid of my grades and what if I failed. A terrified looks was on her face and this time it was an extreme frantic, worried and frenzied look.

The leader directed his head to the left and gave a sign to the troops to follow. The mice gave different reactions. One of the “predators” took over the lead and invited the mice to turn right, their usual morning direction. The “inhibitors” were confused and followed the predators. “The wait and see” remained in the intersection to see what’s going to happen. “The followers” follow the leader and turned left.

Her mom invited “the panicky girl” to her room. A mother daughter talk has never been interesting. Faintly the conversation could be overheard: “ Unless you change you will never get the cheese of life.”

“The followers” enjoy the biggest part of the cheese. “The wait and see” heard the victory of "the followers" and follow them. They get some cheese. The inhibitors” get a tiny part of the cheese since they were too late to change the direction. “the predators” died in hunger.

Which are you, Angel?

Wednesday, June 18, 2003


Summer is approaching the end of its term. The leaves have started to change their colors. Autumn will soon be on the scene. She is walking toward the seashore on her own. Gust of wind blows her fragile figure and makes her flimsy. She goes on with her journey and makes her extreme effort to maintain her direction.

Traces of her foot prints are on the sand….lead down to the world she sometimes fails to recall. The world of her own, in which summer was enchantingly beautiful. At that time, the birds would chant her the songs of heaven. The world stood there motionless, watching her dance charmingly with the music of life.

The sea waves have sent her an invitation to come. The sea gulls reminded her to answer all her unfinished questions of life. For once winter arrives, the questions will be frozen forever.She sat there by the sea shore. She has been seeking for the answers to her haunting questions. She sat there for hours and hours, feeling hopeless for she was only chasing a shadow. She was almost frozen in her solitude, when the reflection of an angel came slowly into her view.

She stood up with better forethoughts. The angel provided the answer to her haunting question. An Existence for another existence. The reason why we are alive to keep the others living. Everything have their season and reason to exist.

Monday, June 16, 2003


The phone rang.... you ran to me and hold your breath deeply. A mixed up expression, tensed, anxious and uneasy were all there. As soon as I put the receiver down, you held my arms and shook them. I gave you an empty look. You looked more than puzzled, worried and began to bite your nails. I smiled and said, yes you have made it.

The explosion of excitement was more than the incredible eruption of a volcano. It shattered the silence. The roars and the flares of joy filled up the air. You danced around and jumped into my bed. I was frozen. Suddenly you turned to me and hugged me. You hugged me with all your excitements and squeezed me. The rest of the day was filled with phone calls....

There is no point at which you can say, "Well, I am successful now. I might as well take a nap (Carrie Fisher). There are still so many rocky hills to climb and winding roads to beat.

Tuesday, June 10, 2003


If I had to choose between my right and left eye, which one would I have to choose? This question is aimless. It is as senseless as your curiosity to know which among you that I love most. This question has been in your eyes for sometimes. You plea for an asnwer and it was spurted out last night in the car.

Do you remember the time of loneliness when we had been separated miles away from the rest of the family? You were there with me. We supported each other. We conquered the urge to be reunited . We walked hand in hand underneath the shade of the trees. You were chased by the blackbird on our way to the playground. We dashed out to the iceman as the van passed in front of our house.

The creaky door to your room was opened. You came out and got yourself a glass of water from the table in front of me. Swollen red eyes and a heartbreaking tormented look was the menu served to me. Your sister was trying to whisper something in my ears. I touched you lightly on your head. You broke out into tears and rest your head so close to my heart. I didnt say a word, but my heart played the music of love. You cried until the fear in you subsided.

We have gone through so many things in this life. We have gone through the sun and the rain. It is love that keeps us alive. However, it is not about the amount of my love or your love nor is it about whom I love most. It is simply about sharing our love among us, among people around us.

Monday, June 09, 2003


Seputih salju, seputih rambutnya, seputih cintanya. Pengabdian yang tidak pernah berhenti. Musim silh berganti, perubahan menerpa kehidupannya, tapi hatinya masih putih...seputih salju, seputih rambutnya, seputih hatinya. Tatkala maut menjemput, burung-burung di taman menyanyikan irama kepedihan, menghantar perginya sang cinta putih ke dunia yang tak akan pernah dapat kumengerti. Ke suatu dunia yang enggan aku pikirkan tapi harus kuhadapi.
Mungkin hanya malaikat kecilku yang tau. Disudut sana, dibalik tirai putih, aku melihat air mata putihnya bergulir, meluncur perlahan, melandas di atas hati yang putih. Bibirnya bergumam halus, Tuhan, kukembalikan cinta putih ini ke hadiratMu. Kalau boleh aku memilih, ingin kudekap erat dan kunikmati cintanya. Namun aku tahu, apa yang kau goreskan, adalah putih... Terimalah cinta putihku.....

Wednesday, June 04, 2003


I brought with me all my blurted thoughts in the middle of the night. Loss has passed in front of our door and grief was enveloping us. It is not until the person disappears that we begin to wonder their meaning to our life. The beautiful moments become apparent, and the unpleasant ones disappear. Memories......leave those traces of loss and grief. How do we emerge above the indigo line?
The white pearls rolled down on your cheek. Tears that alleviated the pain, the agony inside. The affections that occured behind the scenes, revealing the true love that grows in the garden of sincerety.

Sunday, June 01, 2003


Kunang-kunang beterbangan, melambung ke udara, menembus malam. Roh kematian berpendar-pendar. Kepedihan menyelimuti bumi. Pagi ini sahabatku, sore ini ia menggoda kerabatku. Aroma kematian melilit bumi. Kehidupan berakhir. Usai sudah. Titik.
Dalam buaian, kudongengkan cerita tentang hidup. Menata hidup, menjaga kehidupan dan membangun kehidupan. Malaikat kecil...satu hal yang pasti dari kehidupan ini. Tebarkan kasih dan biarkan bersemi. Titik, Koma, Tanda tanya....... biarkan itu.

Friday, May 30, 2003


Often at nighttime when silence is the largest and the darkness is enveloping the earth…I have an unwanted guest knocking at my door. She calls herself “Dream”. She’s not an outstanding mortal, nor is she an admirable being.
As we sit together, she tells me a story…the similar story again and again. The story is not about the astonishing supremacy of the sun, nor is it about the amazing dormant power of a volcanic. The story is just an ordinary story, the story of a candle…. a little candle that lighten up the darkness of life. The only dream that haunts my nights. My hopes and wishes for my angel.

Thursday, May 29, 2003


Kujentik pucuk hidungnya perlahan. Seperti daun Putri malu di tepian jalan, hidungnya mengerut dan bola matanya membelalak. Pipinya yang ranum membentuk gumpalan dan kedua bibirnya rapat menyatu, merengut, merona. Kuraih tubuh kecil itu ke dalam pelukanku, harum susu menghambur baur. Kudekap dalam pelukan dan kulantunkan tembang “Kasih” dengan irama jantungku..
Aku tidak pernah menginginkan kau tertidur ataupun terlena dalam haribaanku. Aku hanya ingin kau tahu bahwa disini, di dalam dadaku ada tempat dan kehangatan untuk kamu. Seperti tungku penghangat dimusim salju, matahari pagi di musim panas, lambaian daun kering di musim gugur dan gerai senyuman kelepak bunga di musim semi. Tempat abadi dimana cinta kasih tak mengenal usia, tak pernah lekang ataupun lapuk, biar badai haru biru menerpa hidupmu, biar terpuruk engkau disudut bumi….di hati ini….ada sepenggal kasih abadi menanti…immortal…

Wednesday, May 28, 2003


Angels, I found this poem for you.

By: Nikki
It's hard 2 find real friends
that don't get mad 4 dumb reasons.
It's hard to find real friends
that won't tell all your secrets.
It's hard to find real friends
that don't care what u look like
or even how you act.
But once u've got real friends
thats all u've got 2 have.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003


Xan, Wooly and my Angel
This morning as I passed the roses, I noticed the dull grey cocoon was broken open. There was nothing inside. It was just a cold empty shell. My mind is set far away to the future, years from now on, to your friendship, the three of you. I am certain the friendship will still be there. However the three of you would have a life of your own.
As I trace all the moments that you share, I thought about all the good times the three of you had had. Times that you could never have again.
I have seen empty shells, i have seen dried leaves, I have seen death...I am hoping that your friendships will never fade away neither will it be erroded by time nor die.
Angels, I am assured that you would have valued all these moments of friendship better.

Monday, May 26, 2003


Scene 1 : The date is set...the 6th of June, your grandparents will be celebrating their golden wedding anniversary. A fifty years full of blessings, travelling through a rocky and winding roads during winter, spring, summer and fall.
Scene 2 : I went with dad to a movie called My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It was hilariously droll. I really got a charge out of it. Marriage is not only about two different personalities, but it is also a marriage of two different cultures. Unless both of the couple or either one is ready to do sacrifices, the marriage will not work. It really takes a village to get married but once you know the clues, it will be just like another ordinary day of your life.
Scene 3 : A sound of roaring laughter burst out of my room. Sitting in my comfortable chair, resting your feet on my ottoman, you were hugging the pillow into your stomach. My big fat Greek wedding!!!!! As the movie was approaching the final part, you moved the pillow to cover your face and you were weeping lightly. I guess everyone, whoever watches that movie will get moved once it arrives at this scene. It is a sublime of love.
Scene 4 : Later when you get married, you remain ours in thought and spirit. Even death cannot put us apart. But your husband… will have you as a complete person, including you in the physical dimension. It is a very breath taking moment Angel as God passes the cup of blessing into your life.

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Tuesday, May 13, 2003


You were sitting on the floor with a blue t-shirt and faded jeans. Your friends were dragging you to the pool, one on each side and two others behind you. Your jacket was thrown aside on the floor. These snapshots were taken in Puncak.
Two albums of photos were exposed in front of me. You were trying to explain all the moments in details. Your eyes were glowing with excitements. Picture by picture…scene by scene… a precious moments that happened to your life.
Around 10 o' clocks, we received news from your aunt. Grandma is hospitalised. We were all numb. It is another piece of our jigsaw of life. Some pictures are nice but some others are not. Happiness is referred to as happiness due to the existence of sadness. There wouldn't be such a thing as counterfeit gold if there were no real gold somewhere

Monday, May 12, 2003


Sometimes it hurts me so much to say the things I have never meant to say to you. I know that’s not the way to change you. I am not as patient as those mothers you find in the fairy tale books or movies. I am a mother in reality. As I sit at my desk in the office, I remember those words that I said to you yesterday and this morning. I remember your expressions while listening to all those words. I saw the anger mixed with hurt in your eyes. A deep moan was echoing in my heart. I’m sorry Angel. Should those words discourage you, but it wasn’t meant to be that way.

Friday, May 09, 2003

It has been raining cats and dogs since last night. The streets were all inundated. I took you to school early in the morning. The traffic was moving slowly and carefully like a giant snake crossing the slippery surface. I arrived late at work and buried myself in the hurly burly of office work. You called me twice today while I was in the meetin.I drove through the hectic traffic to pick you up. The entrances to our house were all blocked by water. So the two of us decided to hang around in front of Pondok Indah, hoping that the level of water will go down and I don’t have to leave our car somewhere else.
We sat beside the peddler’s cart. We talked about life and friends. I knew that you couldn’t make a fair judgment. A thin mist of jealousy was blocking your sight. Tapping you lightly on your shoulder was a means to communicate my feelings which sometimes worth more than tons of messages. As time went by, the thin mist slowly disappreared. The drop drills the stone. As the sun slowly surrendered to shine and was about to dive into the horizon, a rainbow came into our view and smiled to my angel.

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

A sweet angel
Was bestowed on my lap
Back to the past, 17 years ago

A petite fille
Running cheerfully around me
Accompanying me in my solitude
Thirteen years ago in Sydney

A twelve years old girl
Stubborn but delicate
With a frown look
Expressing confusion

Sweet seventeen at last
transformed into a cocoon
Hoping to be a butterfly
May all the shining stars
Bestowed upon you

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

We can do anything we want as long as we stick to it long enough. This is Helen Keller’s statement that I found today.
You are beautiful, you are smart, you are tidy and neat, you are excellent in art and you care about others. Your teacher and I have been discussing about you. We both were trying to find out the answer to your problem. At the end of our conversation we arrived at the conclusion that the flame inside you has died. The spirit to be better and higher doesn’t dwell in your heart and soul any longer. Determination and persistence are two alien concepts for you. The world has turned itself into a dangerous place to live for you. Not because of the people who are evil, but because of the fact that you don’t do anything about life.
Your opponent, in the end, is never really the player on the other side of the net, or the swimmer in the next lane, or the team on the other side of the field, or even the bar you must high jump. Your opponent is yourself, your negative internal voices, and your level of determination.

Friday, May 02, 2003

... Life is like a box of chocolate, you'll never know what you're gonna get. The Forrest Gump was with us all the way home today.
A child in heart and spirit, even as his body grows to maturity. The most frequently recurring theme is an admonition not to give up on life. Why surrender when you don't know what lies ahead? Angel, proceed even at a slower pace than others.

Wednesday, April 30, 2003

It's not really a bright day today. In fact, the sky is dark and cloudy. However, It's a big day for you Angel.The fact that you had been appointed as one of the candidates made us feel very proud of you. It is your efforts that count. We just want you to know that it is not about winning or loosing. It is about doing your best to be part of it.

Tuesday, April 29, 2003

The phone on my desk rang. I was half way crossing my room, for a meeting. I went back to my desk and picked it up. It was your aunt, my sister. She was saying something. I could not grasp the head or tail of her statement. It was either I had not focused myself or I had been trying to deny the fact that struck my ears. It was something serious about you. My whole body was trembling and I got hold to the arm of my chair, and slowly sunk my body in it.
Angel, remember while we were driving yesterday. I asked you how you were doing with your school and you said everything was okay. Honesty is not something to flirt with. We must be married to it. I wonder what was really the matter with you. That question kept on pondering my mind. I couldn’t have any clue, we gave you everything what other girl of your age couldn’t have.
Remember the silver bullet that you need to face the facts of this life. Do you think you can manage to get it in your hand? I am trying to find the answer to this haunting question.

Monday, April 28, 2003

As soon as I entered the room, the conversation was cut off and everyone stood still. All the whispers and mutters vanished into the thin air. A new topic was brought up to fill the emptiness. Everyone was giving the impression that they were fascinated by the topic. They gave comments, empty statements. The air was filled with pretenders. The truth of a matter will always haunt you, no matter how secret the hiding place. Were you the architect, Angel?

Friday, April 25, 2003


Her beauty is like the morning sun rising in the horizon. Her slim tall delicate figure is covered by her soft silky complexion. Dark, shiny and straight hair hanging down and curled in right on her shoulder. Her lips were like blushing roses and her rosy cheeks adorned her perfect shaped face. Almond shaped eyes with heavy lashes. That was how you described one of your friend to me.
Beauty… Physical beauty impinges our sense of vision. You may be beautiful as perceived by the perception of others but beauty submerges beyond physical beauty. Face is only the serial number of a human specimen. There is another side of beauty…
Angel, know yourself better before you talk about beauty. I am sure you have so many beautiful things inside you that can be developed. Spend efforts to improve your inner beauty. The steadfastness of purpose, Faithfulness to principle, Sense of duty, and Strength of character, knowledge and willing to participate in life lead to the possession of inner beauty. The inner beauty is what truly turns you to be beautiful. It is a part of all of us that lives outside of time. It’s eternal and immortal.

Thursday, April 24, 2003


Bye mom… a light kiss on my cheek, and you got out of the car. You walked slowly with your school bag hanging on your shoulder and your right hand carrying a big plastic bag containing your cheers costume. Xandraaaaaa………I heard you shouting, calling out your friend’s name. You walked faster, approaching your best friend. The two of you spurted out laughing and walked side-by-side entering the school building. Two high-spirited girls were entering the gate of life.
As I drove slowly the echoes of your laughter was still drumming in my mind. Back many years to the past, I was in your position. As far as I remember, I thought I knew why I had to be in a building called a school. Many reasons twirled around my head at that time, I had to be there because my mom wanted me to have an education. I had to be there more or less for a very traditional reason, because others were doing it as well. I also knew that it would be good for my future but…didn’t really realize it.
Later when I grew up and entered the battle of reality, I regretted myself for not really understanding why I had to be in that building called school, for not taking it into my awareness that it would have an immense impact on my life in the future. As I enter the autumn of my life, I wish I could have brought spring back into my life so as to be able to do my utmost for my education.
Angel, I hope you do understand why you have to be there….

Wednesday, April 23, 2003


Morning routine starts at six. We enter the car and left home. Prior to turning the radio on, we pray. We say the same words again and again. You begin your prayer with expressions of gratitude for all his blessings provided upon us. Then you move to your hopes and wishes for us, our relatives, our friends, the entire nation and the world. Finally you ask for God’s forgiveness for all the sins that we have done in the past.
Praying turns to be a ritual. A ritual that we believe works like magic spell, as we pray all His blessings will be bestowed upon us. It reminds me of Rendra’s poem:

Sering kali aku berkata, ketika orang memuji milikku, bahwa
sesungguhnya ini hanya titipan, bahwa mobilku hanya titipan Nya, bahwa
rumahku hanya titipan Nya, bahwa hartaku hanya titipan Nya, bahwa
putraku hanya titipan Nya,
tetapi, mengapa aku tak pernah bertanya, mengapa Dia menitipkan padaku?
Untuk apa Dia menitipkan ini pada ku? Dan kalau bukan milikku, apa yang
harus kulakukan untuk milik Nya ini? Adakah aku memiliki hak atas
sesuatu yang bukan milikku? Mengapa hatiku justru terasa berat, ketika
titipan itu diminta kembali oleh-Nya ?. Ketika diminta kembali, kusebut
itu sebagai musibah kusebut itu sebagai ujian, kusebut itu sebagai
petaka, kusebut dengan panggilan apa saja untuk melukiskan bahwa itu
adalah derita.
Ketika aku berdoa, kuminta titipan yang cocok dengan hawa nafsuku, aku
ingin lebih banyak harta, ingin lebih banyak mobil, lebih banyak
popularitas, dan kutolak sakit, kutolak kemiskinan, seolah semua
"derita" adalah hukuman bagiku.
Seolah keadilan dan kasih Nya harus berjalan seperti matematika: aku
rajin beribadah, maka selayaknyalah derita menjauh dariku, dan nikmat
dunia kerap menghampiriku. Kuperlakukan Dia seolah mitra dagang, dan
bukan kekasih. Kuminta Dia membalas "perlakuan baikku", dan menolak
keputusanNya yang tak sesuai keinginanku, Gusti, padahal tiap hari
kuucapkan, hidup dan matiku hanyalah untuk beribadah...
"ketika langit dan bumi bersatu,
bencana dan keberuntungan sama saja"
( WS Rendra).

Praying is something, however, living is more than just a prayer. It’s also taking hold of the wisdom God gives us and actually applying it.

Tuesday, April 22, 2003


Mom…I’m going to be home at 3 o’clock today…do you think you can pick me up? Two missed calls and one message entered my cell phone. It had been a hectic day. I did not manage to pick you up. This feeling, torn in between, has been part of my life most of the time. I have left one-foot step at home, whereas the other one is in the office.
I arrived home and saw you wrapping yourself inside a blanket next to grandma. Hmmm… my cocoon. You greeted me. Your voice was deep and heavy, as if there was something blocking your throat. You needed a good sleep. I went to your room and turned on the computer. You moved from your sister’s room and sunk your exhausted body into your own bed. I left the computer and laid myself next to you. I was trying to share your days and asked you one or two questions about your trip. You were too fatigue to answer. I stopped and we slept close to each other… sailing through the ocean of dream until morning has broken.

Monday, April 21, 2003


Scene One - Sounds of laughter busted out of the car. Your sister was sitting next to me, and you were sitting at the back part of the seat. Your teacher was the central figure of our discussion that day. You were miming and copying the way she talks. Every single details of her were within your coverage.
Scene Two - We stopped by at QB and begun to pick some books. We went to the cashier to make the settlements. I then realized that I did not have my purse with me. You were so embarrassed and were trying to put all the blame on somebodyelse.
Scene Three - All the machines were there, next to your grandma. She was lying there helplessly. Her glazing eyes were glued to the ceiling. A thin layer of tears was enveloping them.
A middle-aged lady was lying there next to grandma. She was in coma, solitude in her own world. Her husband was hugging her affectionately with all his love, whereas the other fingers were running through her hair. The lines of weariness and depression were drawn in his face. His lips were trembling, and he was murmuring something that I assumed as a prayer. Drops of white diamonds ran down through his bony cheeks and landed in the wrinkled forehead of the grey haired suffering lady. He wiped the wet forehead with the sleeve of his jacket, as if he was trying to ease her pain and transmitted the pain to himself. The breath of life was stored in the machine, a victory of machine over the existence of human being.

Scene Four - What kind of existence is life after death? Is it some permutation of what we have already experienced in life? Shall we be alone or in a crowd?

Thursday, April 17, 2003


The night was cold. I entered your room and turned on the light. It was empty. Silence was drifting in the air. Your bed was smooth and clean. Your desk was a bit disorganized. The cupboard, the computer, the chest of drawers, the chairs and the sofa they were all there. We were all silent with no word spoken.
I moved to your bed and sat on the curb of it. I saw your picture on the wall. It was taken when you were 12 years old. An innocent and naive face with long straight dark hair was looking and smiling at me. I stared back and was stirred under your magic spell. The corner of my lips rolled up slightly and a thin and vague smile was engraved on my lips.

I lazily stood up and turned off the light. It is dark all over your room. I laid my weary mind on your bed. My eyes were fixed to the ceiling. The dazzling and glittering stars embellished the dark bluish sky. The croissant shaped moon emerged like a glowing magic wagon among hundreds of luminous fairies. I saw a bare footed captivating princess sitting on the curve of the moon; long straight hair, beautiful smile with a white daisy ornamented crown. Mommy…. mommy…your voice was pondering my eardrums as it echoes continuously across the empty room. It twirled around the blank space of the cubicle before it gradually diminished and turned into nothingness. I was miles and miles away…a funny feeling was crawling and hankering inside me.

Wednesday, April 16, 2003


Do you remember the butterflies in our garden? They flapped their colorful wings in the tranquility of the morning sun. We watched them in dismay, flying gracefully from one flower to another. You said to me, Mom…aren’t they beautiful.
My little angel, have you ever thought what they were before? I guess you do. They were the small caterpillars that turn your stomach every time we watched them in motion through the morning dew. They munch all the leaves and the buts of my roses.
I remember also the time when you were still my petite fille in Australia. On one summer day, as we walked hand in hand among the trees in the campus, we saw empty cocoons scattered on the grass. You asked me what happened to the living thing inside. I told you that some had transformed into the beautiful butterflies, whereas the unfortunate ones had turned into ash and became part of the earth. You felt really sorry for the unfortunate ones.

The metamorphose stages happen to every living creature, including you. You were once a little girl, but today…you are seven-teen. When you were born…we had put so many hopes and expectations. Sometimes we articulate our wishes but some other time we keep them frozen in our mind. We are afraid that we might shove too many loads upon you.
As we watch you grow up…we then realized that you have your own breath of life. We also realized that some of our hopes and expectations might not be valid for you. We try to transform you to be the missing puzzle of our live. However, most parents have gone through this path of life. Being adults and even parents do not mean that we are perfect..

We realize that you are now entering the page of reality of a teen-age angst. Mom and Dad cannot bestow the world on your lap; neither can we be eternal for you. You will have to encounter serious and significant dilemmas in your life. All those rocky and winding roads…will probably lead you to weariness. We just want to remind you: Do not stop…no matter how weighty they are. Fight for your dreams…and reach for the stars…. Be the fortunate living thing inside the cocoon and turn into a butterfly.

Finally, We just want you to treasure what we have made available for you…a basket full of love!!! Love can turn life into miracles and they are eternal.
Let this pages serve as an expression of our love to you, how we watch, care and love you, every single seconds of your life. However, we are just human beings. God only can give you the complete love. So place your life in His hand and you will get a complete love and life.
May God shower upon you all His blessings.