Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Inspired by peacock(s)

Yes, this is for you.

I suddenly felt a need to write and thanks to you, who climbed through my window over fourteen months ago and has become a part of my very being, I want to carry on with what I started too many years ago.

It has been neglected for fear of rejection, lack of interest and poor self confidence.

And now I want to share this with the same fervor as I want to share my life with you.


Mind Full

All these things rattling in my head, rolling their way through my mind. 

Round and round they go. 

Sometimes deep, sometimes stubborn, sometimes angry, and other times just plain funny. 

During the day they dance and float, peeking out for a moment then diving back into the dark recesses of my subconscious. 

Like fireflies they glimmer at night, teasing me: they want to play... 


Wednesday, 5 October 2011

Dear Jakarta

Like a rebellious teenager you cover your body in the snake-like tattoo of traffic, reek of smoke and pollution, and pierce the sky with your tall buildings. Shutting the world out with your hardcore exterior, you make it hard for us to approach you. To understand you. To like you.

Are you scared of letting people too close? Abandonment maybe?

You show us only your busy roads, bustling bodies and plethora of standardised concrete buildings. Guilty as charged you accept the accusations of 'another big city'. You lock yourself in the confines of your room angry at the world for not taking the time to get to know you. For leaving you.

Despite your attempts to thwart my efforts I stuck around. I saw your hidden gems. Pleading ignorant to your almost mechanical deamnour, I found your veins oozing with generosity in Cibubur, hospitality in Bintaro and your beating heart in Jaksa. I discovered the beauty in your lights, the acceptance of your differences. I caught the colours in your Batik and the sweetness of your language.

It was all there: in your loving locals and embracing 'bule' (foreigners) who come and go. And stay.

Inspire Me

If travels are not enough to spark a flurry of prose what then will get my pen to paper?

It's not lack of subject matter: for there are always wanderings and ponderings, always oddities, characters and beauties- yet no words spring to mind.

Lazy? Perhaps. Inadequate? More so. My words are trapped in the darkness of my mind, the starkness of the paper. Like cheap airfares ideas are snapped up in exciting prospects only to lose their sparkle as the additional charges rack up. What starts as a beautfiul clean page soon becomes an ugly blotch of scribbles and scratches, not worth a second glance nevermind copying.

Still, I continue these incessant scribbles in the hope that someone may find joy in my words. That I might find joy in them.

Kuta Beach- Bali Sept '11

Thursday, 11 August 2011


One of the sweetest and possibly most emotional conversations I've ever had and one that still rings in my ears today:

It's 7:30am the day I leave to Indonesia. I have just walked through the door after spending the previous night with friends. I walk into the TV room where Tom is watching TV.

Me: Morning Tom-Tom.

Tom: Morning Rashika (pause, then whispers) it's your last day today...

Me: Yes, I know Tom-Tom, I'm really sad.

Tom: (quietly) I'm sad too.

Me: I don't want to leave Tom Tom (I meant this)

Tom: I don't want you to leave...

Writing this still has me choking back the tears. I have never heard such sweetness in one tiny voice before.

Well, I never...

Three things:

1. I was really and truly sad to leave London.
2. I cried my heart out on that plane.
3. It's been three weeks and I still miss home.

There I said it. The 'H' word.

How I came to love a place I used to loathe is beyond me.

But, here I am, in Mc Donalds (damn you capitalism) in the centre of Jakarta, having seen some breathtaking (sorry no pics due to my camera being stolen- but that's another post) islands of Bali and Gili Trawangan, seeing shooting stars in their numbers,  learning how to use Asian toilets and meeting wonderful, hospitable and friendly Indonesians: and I miss home!

In a way it's nice, it means I'm not a robot. I'm not as averted to attachment as I think. And I've carved a life for myself that was all me. And maybe in the greater scheme of things it doesn't really matter, but for me the last seven months in London was the home I created for myself, by myself and that's a nice feeling!

Thursday, 21 July 2011

Kids love me.

"You're the best nanny ever!" Tom whooped when I told him the news: Nando's for dinner.

Ordinarily I would never take the kids to any fast-food place; I believe in balanced home-cooked meals- like any good nanny worth their job.

Of course Tom would think this after my announcement. I mean, what else do I do with a 10-year old dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, sitting outside in the rain, at dinner time because I've locked the keys in the house? And of course, the four spare keys I cut this morning are on the kitchen counter because I hadn't handed them to the neighbours as I was meant to.

And let's not forget that I'm babysitting tonight…

Yip. I'm the best nanny. Ever.