Blue Seas

Pretty much ever since I was born, I've heard the words, "Oh, you look just like your father!" coming out everyone's mouths - strangers, family, relatives, friends. It makes me happy, to hear those words. I look like my father. I can see the similarities for myself. The long nose, the thin, overarching eyebrows, the way our cheekbones draw in and the sides of our eyes crinkle when we smile. The similarities are not skin deep. I've noticed our matching, even tempers, our preference for inane humour, our passion for economics and football, among other things. People keep pointing out how very similar we are. But there's so much more to me than just that. Parts of me and sides of me that I discover as I grow older. Those parts and those sides that my reflect my mother. I've watched her since I was born, and from her, I've imbibed my thirst for knowledge, my pursuit of perfection, my need to complete a task to my satisfaction once I've start...

For Astha I felt the sadness seeping out of my bones, Pouring out of my mouth with word after word That came crashing like waves. Small blue waves we saw bobbing in the ocean When the green flag was waving, And it was safe for us to swim. So we swam along the reef, holding hands, Because we were large compared to the fishes. But so very small compared to the sea.

"Sleeping?" I felt a finger poke me in the ribs through my thin blanket. I huffed in reply. "How long have you been sleeping?" "I didn't get any sleep last night." I protested in a muffled voice, from under the covers. A soft thump told me that my dog, Ben, had joined my father's side to wake me up from my afternoon nap. "Why?" Dad prodded. "I was scared, after watching that...horror...film." I said, refusing to take my head out from under the blanket. Dad clucked in response, probably in derision, to voice his disappointment at his twenty two year old's reaction to a B-grade exorcism. "Oh, by the way, after I climbed into your's and Mom's bed last night, you asked me, forty minutes later, mind you, 'Is it you, mamma ?' Honestly Dad, who else would it have been?" Ben was now standing on the bed, his front paws, on my Dad's chest, leaning over and trying to lick my face. I burr...

"Yes." "Yes." "Uh-huh." "Uh, no. I checked the accounts last night. I transferred it a week ago. It should have reached by now." "Yes, he's fine. I spoke with him yesterday. No, don't call him today, he has an exam. I'll tell him you'll call him tomorrow after you reach Hong Kong." "I have to leave in five minutes if I want to make it to the meeting on time." "I'm fine, dad. Are you? Did you bother to get a check-up done before you left?" "Hmm, I thought as much." "Dad, I said, Luke is fine. No, I've transferred his rent for this month. Yes, and the tuition fees." "Not bloody likely." "Fine, I won't swear." "Sorry." "I don't know, Dad! I can't tell you three months in advance if I'm going to get a leave for..." "Yeah well, when I...you know what? Never mind. I'm ...

One chilly winter evening, we had an unexpected visitor drop by at our house. My grandfather had just gotten up from his nap and was pulling the curtains that covered the glass doors that led to his balcony. My brother and I were loitering around the house since it was too dark to go out and play and my mother had just set the kettle to boil for tea. Our dog Ben was waiting patiently for my grandfather to open the doors of the balcony so that he could sit outside and survey the scenery and occasionally growl at the children and street dogs that passed by below. All of a sudden, I saw Ben become tense. His hackles raised, a soft, predatory growl at the back of his throat; he began to paw furiously at the glass door.  "What is it, Ben?" I asked curiously. Ben let out a thin, reedy whine and continued to paw, his long nails hitting the marbonite floor as he bumped his nose against the glass. The unfamiliar cheep-cheep of a small bird greeted us from the other side....

The days are long and the nights are long. The hours are too short to cram in the inhuman number of chapters per subject, much less for revision. My usual, narcissistic, self-centred ways magnify manifold. My room mates more than put up with it. I find my hair tied, knotted, plaited. A cup of coffee (my third for the day) left next to my notes. Cereal for breakfast, with freshly cut strawberries waiting at the dining table. What did I do to deserve such altruistic souls in my life? Friends who will walk with you to the grocery store in the middle of the night. Buying crackers so you won't go hungry during the marathon late-night study sessions, then forgetting to eat them anyway. Hop on a bus. Go to their house. Take over their study desk for the rest of the day. Stay for dinner. Dark circles that are indistinguishable from eyeliner. Cola-flavoured lollipops while I work on editing the magazine, because of course, that has to coincide with the midterms. Buying...

N: You know why I love hanging out with you guys? P: I don't know, our charming personalities? S laughs out aloud. N: No. I mean yeah, that is there. But besides that...you guys don't have problems. I mean, you guys don't sit around and mope and be miserable all day. You're genuinely happy. P and S exchange looks. P: Clearly, you haven't scratched our surfaces deep enough. S: Yeah, we do have problems... P: Just because we don't let them get the better of us all the time, doesn't mean...oh my God! Is that a dog? P runs to admire a stuffed French bulldog in the display window of a chocolate shop. N: See. This is what I'm talking about.