Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.

-Dale Turner-

Sunday, 3 January, 2010


I am marooned on the window sill, for the beast doesn't like me to move. Hours later, she gets tired of our unending stream of chatter and turns her head.

I grab the moment to stretch my limbs. But when one knee grazes the couch, the beast roars with a voice that leaves me trembling inside and out.

Meet Zoye - A & N's pampered baby girl and ferocious Dobberman. I am keen to win her approval, almost K-serial bahu like, for this is my pilgrimage.

I came here for answers, but I don't remember the questions anymore. And I simply sit soaking in stories: of clean energy technologies, eco-restoration projects, stories of forests across the world, and where religion is a passion for work.

And I had shut myself out of all this for a year.

N makes me noodles hashed of anything that she can throw in. And N, slouching on the jhoola, becomes an impish little brat talking of her siblings, eyes sparkling.

A patiently shows me around the house and explains electronics to a science retard.

And when asked to stay for the night, I lap the offer like Zoye her milk. Even the threat of my mum raising into alarm everyone she knows in this district fails to scare me today.

Later, walking down the beach with the wind in my hair, I tell A & N how the last rite of our usual pilgrimage would be to meet Mango Tree.

But when Mango Tree invites us for a nutty dessert, I get really scared. Mortally scared of Stick and Egg, for I am having all this to myself.

The beast is of course not pleased that I am sleeping on its couch. But Zoye, you don't have any choice now, you have to get used to me. And your scent on the couch isn't too bad either.



My nephew is a slothbear