Exquisite as they are – diamonds. And so is love. Indeed. 🙂 Re-blogged from Mike Watson. Thanks for this post, Mike! 🙂
Author Archives: Christine Lailani
When Food Cravings Are Unleashed; My Cooking Style
This is something that would appeal most to one of our senses – the taste buds. And yes, the hungry tummy. 🙂
Cooking is indeed, like art. It is a skill that you need to practice in order to create a wonderful masterpiece from combining the ingredients, to choosing the right cooking temperature, to coming up with a well-cooked, superb dish. It is TOUGH. It took me how many years before I can finally say that I am doing good with it. Keeping my fingers crossed on that. 😉
Yes, I have been cooking since I was in first year college. That was the moment when I had to make good use of the new-found freedom which is to try and learn different things. Learning, for me, didn’t stop there though. Until quite recently, I still crave to learn more as I possibly could.
Most of my dishes are Filipino dishes. I haven’t tried baking, although I really would want to learn how. That would be next on my to-do list. Definitely. So here are some of the Pinoy dishes that I have cooked, which are all this – a labor of love.
Bulalo or Filipino Beef Marrow Soup is one of my personal favorites. Especially during the cold weather. The beef bone marrow and the beef shanks are boiled until the meat becomes tender along with the cabbage/pechay, corn and potatoes. When done, you can garnish it with onion leeks just like what I did below. Yes, cooking is not complete without garnishing your dish before placing it on the table. :-p
This next dish is called Sinigang na Hipon or Pinoy Style Shrimp in Sour Soup. The shrimp is boiled along with the tomatoes, onions and camote tops using either tamarinds, calamansi or a sinigang mix to make the soup sour. You can also use fish or meat instead of shrimps.
Next would be Menudo, cooked the Filipino style. We usually use beef or pork as the main ingredient and just add carrots, potatoes, bell pepper, and chick peas. As for the sauce, I bought a pack of ready-made Menudo sauce and just mixed it along with the other ingredients when tenderizing the meat. And yep, I did not add chick peas for this one.
What I have next is Bistek Tagalog or the Filipino version of Beef Steak. We just boil the beef sirloin until it becomes tender in soy sauce, garlic, onion rings, calamansi, and season with black pepper. I usually like my Bistek Tagalog topped with lots of onion rings. Don’t worry, I usually prepare a mint candy every after a meal with this dish. I guess you already know why. 😉
This is originally a Chinese dish but it became a common Filipino dish through time. We call it the Lumpiang Shanghai. It is made of ground pork seasoned with salt and pepper and I usually add carrots and onions before mixing them together. I place a thin portion of the mixture on a lumpia wrapper which can be bought in the local supermarkets and fry them until they are golden brown. My mom would put an egg in the ground pork mixture as a “binder” so that ground pork tidbits won’t scatter on your pan while frying.
Last but definitely not the least would be the Misua soup. Another dish adapted from the Chinese. The noodles used for this dish would be salted Chinese noodles made from wheat flour. We usually add along with it meatballs or ground pork, patola (sponge gourd), onions and then season with black pepper. I replaced the sponge gourd (which I don’t have at that time) with carrots and cabbage.
I am sure by the time you finished reading this, you’re all hungry and famished ready to devour any food you see. Yes, good food is food not just for a healthy tummy but for good thoughts too. Now, writing this post just made me hungry. Off to the kitchen, I go. 😀
P.S.
Just in case you are wondering how I learned cooking, I owe it all and would have to say my utmost gratitude to my family starting from Dad, my Mom, my 3 older sisters and my brother who taught me the art of cooking and are now my (worst) food critics. hahaha Kidding. Nah, they are the best critics when it comes to everything. 😉
When Grace and Aura Captivate You: That’s Dancing
“Dancing in all its forms cannot be excluded from the curriculum of all noble education; dancing with the feet, with ideas, with words, and, need I add that one must also be able to dance with the pen?” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
I have been dancing ever since I can remember. My earliest would be when I was 6 years old. Yep, that picture of mine below was taken during a school program, and we were dancing in the tune of “Da Coconut Nut” by the Smokey Mountain.
Hawaiian-themed Dance Number, 1991
This was only one of the many dance presentations that I participated when I was in grade school. Dance rehearsals were exhausting and yet very fulfilling. I performed in school plays, too, but it happened only once or twice. Unfortunately, I am not a good actress. 😃
As with declamations, there were 3 instances where I did an oratorical piece in the vernacular as well as in English. But again, not as much as compared to writing during essay contests and dancing. Dancing is just love.
When I was 12 years old, the Folk Dance Troupe in our school (where I was a member) participated in the Literary Musical Contest. We won in the District level (participated by the schools in Bulan, our town) as well as in the Zonal level (participated by the nearby schools in our town), and we were able to compete in the Division level (which comprised mostly of schools in the entire province).
Literary Musical Contest, 1996
When I was in high school, I became a member of the Folk Dance Troupe under the coaching of our ever graceful and ever beautiful, Ms. Malou Lanuza, and been performing since 1st year until 2nd year. I learned from her that dancing is not just a combination of steps and poses. But it is more of a skill that you slowly craft to create a beautiful masterpiece. You give a piece of who you are to your dance – an expression of who you are. It was through our rigourous dance training with her that I got to learn all about dedication to dancing and to be diligent in perfecting the moves. We would practice from 8 in the morning until 5 in the afternoon every day. All our hard work paid off though as we were able to target fluidity in movements (balance and timing) and perfection of grace, poise, aura, and performance.
During my Junior and Senior years, I quit dancing as I joined the CAT (Citizen’s Army Training) and became an S2 Intelligence Officer of the Corps. We also spent two years doing community service, drills every Saturday, exercises, and exams. I started missing folk dancing at this point, but I also looked forward to the kind of training that the CAT would provide. Below is a photo of me during the Officers’ Induction Night.
CAT, 2000
I was able to perform mostly in folk dances though I also know a bit of ballroom dancing or social dancing (tango, cha-cha, rumba, and samba). In the provinces, folk dancing is usually more common and more popular than social dancing.
Filipino Day, 2012
Our costumes for the folk dance numbers were the traditional costumes of the Filipinos: the barong (for boys) and saya (for the girls) and the Maria Clara dress. You can check out this link for more information regarding the history of the Maria Clara dress, which is also our national costume.
I never got the opportunity to dance again when I was in college because I didn’t have the time, and I was busy with the school requirements. It was only after graduation that I have decided to dance again. I thought dancing will be a good way to exercise and work out since I had an office job during weekdays, and I badly needed physical activity. I did not try folk dancing this time though. I tried something quite new and difficult – street dancing.
Oh yes, it was indeed the complete opposite when it comes to form, beat, style, and techniques. I was totally blown away, but IT WAS SO FUN. 😊
Street Dancing, 2013
Learning something new, for me, is and will always be fun. I got to learn just the basics only, unfortunately. I had to focus on the heaps of workload, and I was extremely exhausted after I got off from work at that time.
But surprise, surprise. YES, my wish was granted. The UP Street Dance Club in my alma mater, the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City sponsored a workshop as a fundraising event. My schedule? So free and available to reserve a slot! Wohoo! I was so glad I was able to hit the dance floor again after 3 years of hibernating. And this time, I got to support a good cause, too. Indeed, the wonders of answered prayers. 😊❤️🙏
The Weather May Change But The Feeling Will Not
Was there a time during your childhood when a storm would scare you to your bones and leave you running to your parents’ room? Oh yes, and that is a definite. I am sure of that. Sometimes, that is what I want to do the past few days. Not because I am scared and have this dire need to head to my parents’ room, but because it feels gloomy and I crave for the solitary comfort of my own bed. December has always been a cold month here in Bicol and rainshowers and thunderstorms are a common weather during this season. But to some extent, I was able to recall a Christmas season wherein it was celebrated with sunny skies and slightly windy days. Chilly, definitely yes, but not as much as what they have in Baguio.
As far as my synapses could accommodate, I remember, still, that sunny Christmas day wherein I greeted the crisp, cool morning air with a smile and watched the ray of light seeped through the window curtains as the warm sun starts to occupy the room with its heat. I would change my clothes, having that bubbly, Christmas-ie feeling, excited for the gifts and excited to go to Church with my relatives. I suddenly missed that feeling. Just so to prove that yes, there was indeed a Christmas season wherein everything was dry, clear and pleasant, I was able to unearth this old picture of mine two decades ago. Yes, there indeed was a time when Christmas day was celebrated with blue skies and a smiling sun.
I missed that time. When now, waking up on a cold, dreary, wet Christmas day can simply snap the Christmas spirit out of you feeling all too gloomy and lazy to even go out of bed. But it was a tradition: waking up early, dressing up, going to Church and opening the gifts. I sort of cursed the howling wind, the hard splashes of rain on the rooftop and the puddle of rainwater everywhere for ruining everything — my attire, my day, the celebration. We asked Daddy to drive us to Church and when we arrived, settled ourselves inside and prayed. Really, wonders are made by prayers. I never asked for a miracle. But I asked that the true spirit of Christmas be felt. The service went on until the part came wherein our Pastor has to deliver the Christmas message/homily. I began to smile.
Why would I even bother if it rains heavily, if thunderstorms are out there, if winds are strong enough to uproot a tree? I wasn’t up today for that. I am to celebrate and rejoice. Celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ to be exact. I prayed for Him, that may His special day be treated as such — bountiful, glorious and filled with joy. The prayer was answered. I saw kids, dressed up all in red getting ready for their presentation after the service. I looked up and saw the ceiling, the windows, the altar adorned not just with regular flowers but with Christmas decors that seem to twinkle with every sway. I heard the piano playing Christmas songs and the congregation singing to it. I saw SMILES everywhere. This is the true Christmas spirit. Ahhh yes, this is indeed it. I thanked the Lord I felt it. Thanked Him for making me feel it.
Every memory of all the Christmases I had in our Church seemed to have filled me once again. I imagined myself being in front of the crowd, reciting a poem I have memorized for a hundred times or performing a dance number followed by a loud applause and cheers from the crowd. Of course, how could I forget the wide smile everytime the gift was handed to me by Auntie Flor and Auntie Belen as well as to the other kids…I saw all of them in the kids present at the Church now. How one memory could evoke a feeling of happiness is already a gift. Let it rain. Let it thunder. Let it be. Some things just never change. 🙂
Benguet: The Trip Up North
“Heaven here on Earth….”
Yes, that is exactly what I had in mind when I saw clouds hovering over the city of Baguio from Beckel. Beckel is located at La Trinidad, Benguet, a province in Baguio City, here in the Philippines. The weather in this part of the country is comparatively cooler than the rest. In fact, it is the coolest part of the Philippines with a temperature range of 15 degrees Celsius – 26 degrees Celsius.
The Benguet Community
The Place
Astounding. That is the word that would closely describe how my first encounter with the community was. The serene ambiance, accentuated by the fresh scent of the pine trees surrounding the place and the stunning overlooking view, is beyond perfect. No other words best fit Beckel, but this description – the off-grid country life that most have imagined and wanted. The place was far from the city, and yet I can describe it as rich and bountiful in terms of nature-inspired simplicity. Truly an escape from the bustling metro, a sanctuary for tired souls.
The place is such a breather and definitely a lovely sight after a tiring 6-hour trip of winding roads and steep slopes. If I can describe it in another way, with just one word, I’d say it would be none other than the word “basic.” Why “basic”? What they have is enough to supply their basic needs without any extravagant luxuries.
Basic commodities are available at the shops downhill, which include the mini grocery store owned by the very generous Kagawad Vicky, who welcomed us into the community and helped us get acquainted with the locals. Then there’s the small internet cafe, the karinderya, a water refilling station, a panaderya, and an ukay ukay store, along with two other stalls that mainly sell essential goods.
If there was one thing, though, that captured my attention most, it’s a scene that I don’t see often in other places here in the Philippines. That of coffins situated beside the house or in the backyard. If someone were to ask me what the most significant landmark in Beckel is that separates it from all the other communities I have visited, it would be the coffins.
As an outsider, I have to admit that seeing the coffins for the first time was a bit disturbing. It didn’t help much that the room where Ate Nina and I occupied is overlooking a neighbor’s backyard full of coffins. But good enough for us, we slept quite like a log, oblivious of any eerie sounds in the background at night, if there are any.
Speaking of our room, we stayed at the Parish house under the care of Father Joseph Pumihic, with the help of Ate Lisa and Ate Josie. It’s a very beautiful and humble abode, and a very special place for guests. It is this quaint little Parish house that actually made my entire Beckelian experience nothing of the ordinary. The house, perched atop the hill, offers an above-the-clouds experience when the temperature drops and fog starts to cover everything below us.
It’s not a typical guest house because it’s got a very “homey” vibe to it. The faded varnish of the wooden door reveals intricate wood grains, adding a subtle vintage touch to it. Upon entering the house, guests are ushered into the living room that also serves as the dining area. It provided just the right amount of space for the entire group to fit in and huddle for the discussion nights. My “little house” impression didn’t meet my expectations; it exceeded them.
The house was very spacious inside – there are two bedrooms, a kitchen, a laundry area, and a bathroom downstairs. On the second level, there are two more bedrooms, one bathroom, and more open spaces which can be converted to another living room or an extra sleeping area if there are more guests. The balcony is another great feature of the house that complements the warm ambiance and is the perfect nook for relaxing and contemplating.
The atmosphere, weather-wise, is very suitable for traveling. Plus, the scent of pine trees and the cool breeze instantly lightens up anyone’s mood. Indeed, nature basking in this place is the best breather. Though daily walks from the barangay to the Parish house and back to the community are so different from city walks in Manila or even in my province in Bicol.
Walking here in Benguet can be exhausting if you’re not used to walking uphill and downhill on steep and winding roads. But with good company and a laidback community, I must say “exhaustion” is just a word. When we headed to Lamut, I realized this is the reason why people in Beckel are physically fit. They had to tread these roads regularly when doing their daily activities. But for visitors, like us, it would take quite a long time to adapt to these strenuous walks.

One of the major contributors to making my Beckelian experience worthwhile would be the hike to Mt. Camiling. Mt. Camiling is located outside Beckel. And I must agree with Ate Rose, one of the charity workers and our tour guide, that going to Mt. Camiling is one of the most difficult and treacherous hikes. This is mainly the reason why mass was held only once a month there in Mt. Camiling. I wasn’t geared up for the climb – very thin socks inside a pair of Chuck shoes (definitely a no-no for hiking), a heavy camera, and a backpack. I got shaking knees, aching feet with calluses all over, and a sweating, weary body during our trek.
Halfway through the climb, I almost felt the urge to back out and head back to the guest house. But seeing the two nuns who are with us, Sister Maxene, who is 65 years old, and Sister Bina, treading on the cliff with difficulty but with patience, I thought otherwise. I am younger than them, stronger even, but do I have such strong faith and motivation to reach the community as them? It came to a point where I almost felt my life was hanging by a thread when I slipped and was only holding on to a bunch of wild grass to keep myself from falling and sliding down the cliff.
Thanks to Ate Rose, who grabbed me when I slipped and helped me get back on the trail. After walking for hours, we were physically spent out, were catching our breaths, and I had already emptied my water bottle – it was indeed the hike of the year for me. Not even my hiking experiences from Girl Scout days were a match for the challenging hike in Mt. Camiling. I must say I was hurled back to being a newbie in hiking. But seeing the community surrounded by rolling hills, lush mountains, and fresh pine trees — the view was spectacular.
The People of Benguet
All the effort of going up Mt. Camiling is worth it when the locals welcomed us with smiling, exuberant faces. They were so glad and very thankful that Father Joseph and the sisters, as well as people from neighboring communities, paid them a visit. Aside from the warm greetings, they also extended their appreciation by preparing a celebration – a feast was waiting. They offered boiled saba and brewed coffee for snacks while we were resting. Then, mass started a couple of minutes after that, followed by “the feast.”
A short program was conducted after everyone had already eaten. If there is one character trait that I have noticed with the people of Mt. Camiling, it is their hospitality – a simple gesture of extending what they can offer or provide to visitors in their community. I have also witnessed the same character trait in Beckel.
The spirit of bayanihan is still very much alive in this community. Every local is intentional in actively participating in every important occasion or festivity. They share responsibility for making a festival or occasion as grand as possible. When it comes to becoming a solid community, I must say that the communities I have visited in rural areas and provinces are very much tight-knit compared to city life.
They are also closely attuned to nature and their surroundings. Aside from the fact that it is through nature that they get their source of livelihood, they have somehow perceived nature as part of who they are as individuals. One observation that I can make from the entire duration of our stay in Benguet is that there was never an instance where I felt awkward in dealing and communicating with the people in Mt. Camiling, Lamut, and Beckel.
They never held an arrogant attitude and were just willing to share what they knew through storytelling. They have no reservations, so to speak, when it comes to their life and culture as a Kankana-ey or an Ibaloi. Yes, gossips are part of storytelling too, but they deal with it nonchalantly. This, I think, is reflective of how peacefully the dwellers of the Benguet community have lived alongside one another. I must say that to acquaint oneself with the people from Beckel, Mt. Camiling, and Lamut isn’t as difficult as acquainting oneself with the place itself.
And of course, the trip won’t be complete without trying Benguet’s very own specialty: strawberry taho (soya/beancurd). So YES, if given another opportunity to go back, I definitely would. It’s one worthwhile experience that one should never, ever miss out on.
How My Passion For Art and Fashion Came To Be
It all started with having Barbie dolls to play around with. Yes, as simple as that. I learned the first lesson in mixing and matching clothes coming up with different styles that suit my mood as early as 8 years old. It was a typical childhood past time for me back then and when I was in high school and I could not play with the dolls anymore, I started drawing and sketching from clothes to portraits. I never took these hobbies seriously.
One summer, when I was back home in Bicol for the sem break, I scavenged closets out of boredom. I came across really fascinating old clothes with designs that could be dated back to the 70’s or the 60’s even. Vintage dresses so to speak.
I asked my mom who owned the clothes, and voila, they were all hers. She wore the clothes when she was my age, early 20’s. I asked her about the history of the clothes i.e. where she bought it, how much, etc. and was amazed to find out that she designed the dresses herself as that time, shopping malls and boutiques are scarce in far-flung areas or in the provinces. So my mom decided to just design her own clothes, choose the cloth for each dress and have them made through a seamstress or a dressmaker.
So maybe being a fashion designer is in the genes after all. *wink*
The photo below is a picture of some of the dresses that my mom made and next to it is a photo of her in her early 20’s.
It was only recently that I made my own fashion design sketches too. Like the ones below.
And of course, my first model would be none other than the ever lovely Barbie. Yes, I still have a use for them. Not for playing, though. But for something far greater than that.
As for charcoal sketching, it became my stress reliever lately. And the sketch below is one of my first sketches on a bigger canvas. This was also the first time I tried experimenting with the shadings using a charcoal pencil.
I never took them seriously before. Not until now when I had this sudden realization that not only are they my outlets for relieving stress and for spending my free time but I really should make good use of these God-given talents.
It is time I recognize them as blessings and for me to be able to share these blessings too.
Chasing Cars
To be pursuant of a dream to many is like chasing a fast car down the lane on barefoot. Amazingly enough, it is the chase that was rewarding and not the reward itself. The reward is the end product. Consumable to your own liking.
But would you say yes if I ask that isn’t it fulfilling that you went through such a pursuit and didn’t come out empty handed? That if it wasn’t for that pursuit, no reward would be made possible? Which also goes on to say that maybe it wasn’t a chase after all.
But it was a journey traveled at the right speed.
A long, tedious journey of transformations but taken at a right pace. Slowly but surely as they say.
Do not chase, just cruise. You might be too fast, you’ll miss a good opportunity.
Minsan Ba Naisip Mo Paano Kung Naging Tulad Ka Nila?
(This article was published at the Definitely Filipino website and at the Philippine News RSS Feeds Portal.)
http://definitelyfilipino.com/blog/2012/10/24/minsan-ba-naisip-mo-paano-kung-naging-tulad-ka-nila/
http://news.modelsorg.com/minsan-ba-naisip-mo-paano-kung-naging-tulad-ka-nila/
Inakala ko na sapat na ang makakuha ng magandang marka (1.75, 1.5, 1.25 maging Uno) sa aking mga klase. Sa tuwing nakikita ko ang mga ito, hindi maikakailang ako ay masaya. Dahil nagbunga ang aking sakripisyo, tiyaga at pagpupursigi. Ngunit kaakibat ng kasiyahang ito ang isang malaking responsibilidad.
Inatasan ako ng lipunan at ng Unibersidad ng Pilipinas upang tumulong sa lipunan bilang isang Iskolar ng Bayan. Sa pagkakataong ito, dito ko maibabahagi ang aking naging isang karanasan.
Nakilala ko si “D.” Isang batang may kapansanan. Salat sa lahat ng uri ng karangyaan sa buhay. Maswerte na siya kung sa isang araw, tatlong beses silang kumain. Nakatira sila sa isang bahay na maituturing na parang malaking kahon sa liit at sa pagiging marupok nito. Ang kanilang higaan ay isang papag na walang kutson. Ang sahig nila ay lupa, walang semento, walang kahoy.
Nang una ko siyang nakita, isang maaliwalas na ngiti ang ibinati niya sa amin. Niyaya kami papunta sa kama, na ‘yun na din ang nagsilbing kanilang sala. Pagkaupo ko, hinawakan niya kamay ko, at nagtatanong siya. Wala akong maintindihan sa sinabi niya. Pinaulit ko sa kaniya, di ko pa rin maintindihan. Nakita ko kung gaano naging desperado ang bata para mapaintindi ang ninanais niyang sabihin. Ngumiti na lang ako sa kanya at tinanong ko kung ano madalas niyang nilalaro. Kinuha niya ang isang sirang hoola hoop at pinakita sa akin. Dagdag ng Ate niya,
“Yan po ang paborito niyang laruan. Kaso nga lang nasira na.”
Pero hindi ako pumunta doon para kaawaan sila, kundi tumulong. Walang pormal na edukasyon si “D.” At dahil sa kapansanan at kahirapan, mas lalong lumiit ang oportunidad upang mabigyan siya ng sapat at magandang edukasyon. Tinanong ko siya kung gusto ba niya mag-aral, tumango siya sabay ngiti. Napangiti na rin ako, hindi lang dahil sa ngiti niya kundi dahil sa kagustuhan niyang matuto. Masunurin siya at nakukuha niya mga itinuturo ko sa kaniya. Ngunit alam ko na nangangailangan ng mahabang panahon para matulungan siyang makapagsalita, makapagbasa at makapagsulat. Siya ay sampung taong gulang na.
Natapos na ang panahon para makasama ko sila. Isang bagong hoola hoop ang iniwan naming alaala sa kanya at mga prutas na dali dali namang naubos ng magkakapatid. Wala man silang naipamahaging materyal na bagay para maalala namin sila, ang kasulatang ito ay sapat na upang magsilbing alaala ko kay “D.”
Nalalapit na ang huling serye ng aking pagtutuos sa aking pag-aaral bilang estudyante ng SPED. Alam kong hindi sapat na makakuha ng magandang marka. Ang mahalaga, kung paano magagamit ang iyong natutunan para makatulong. Nariyan na ang mga katanungang madalas kong banggitin sa aking sarili: Makakayanan ko ba ang ganitong uri ng trabaho at mga balakid na aking makakaharap bilang isang guro ng mga batang may kapansanan? Maibibigay ko ba ang tulong na kinakakailangan ng mga batang ito? Ilang “D” pa kaya ang maaari kong tulungan?
Sa bawat lagok ko ng Starbucks coffee; sa pagpunta kung saan-saang tourist destinations; sa pagbili ng usong damit, sapatos, bag, gadyet,; sa pagkain ko sa mga fine dining restos at sa lahat ng maituturing nating “extravagance for the privileged”; isa lang ang madalas kong maisip: sana nae-enjoy din ng mga batang tulad ni “D” ang ganitong mga pagkakataon.
Iskolar ng Bayan, ako’y naturingan. Hindi ito nangangahulugang gawing marangya ang buhay at kalimutan ang mga nangangailangan kundi tulungan ang sarili makabangon, maging mabuting ehemplo at magsilbi sa bayan.
Ito ang adhikain ko. Sana ganyan din ang adhikain mo, kaibigan. At ng karamihan.
A Dream
It all started in a flash,
I felt that sudden rush.
A certain feeling within,
Where I have never been.
How could I forget those eyes
Searching where my soul lies.
Deep as if we’re in a trance,
Hoping for that one chance.
The first time I felt this way
I hoped that it would stay.
From all corners of my heart,
Wished that we would not part.
Though you’re just a dream,
Far to reach it may seem.
I’m waiting for that moment,
Time with you would be spent.
I’ve waited and I have yearned,
But bridges have been burned.
Chances that seem to be lost,
Changes are at the worst.
Tears of doom started to well,
Moments lost I could tell.
I just could not bear the pain,
To be close but in vain.
I asked myself how and why?
Can’t we give it a try?
But I can never have you,
‘Cos you’re a DREAM, that is true.
A Meandering Passage To A Hidden Alcove: The Lost Soul
A drop or two.
Tears started to streak on your face.
Blinded, groping, you headed yourself through the light.
Alas! You saw the light, it’s finally over. Panting, heaving, breathing heavily, you slumped to a rock. You looked around you, no traces or signs of the struggle. You’re finally free. That’s what you thought. Suddenly, you felt the pain. Striking, grueling, biting every part of your body. You shook uncontrollably and then you felt yourself running, again, fast, until you’re exhausted. You dropped down to your knees, you screamed and then everything went dark.
Your mind started to drift. Jumbled memories of maybe the past, the present or the future, you can’t really tell, came into view. You felt yourself as if you’re in a trance, a light feeling and then you saw him. You can’t help not suppressing the joy you felt. You smiled at him. A blank stare. Nor did he even look at you. What is happening? You started to panic. Why can’t he see me? He wouldn’t look at your direction. There he was, a solitary figure, head bent, shoulders slumped, a grave look on his face. You approached him, but then he abruptly stood up, walked away leaving you there, stunned and speechless. As you saw his figure slowly disappearing, you whispered his name, “I love you, please come back”. He continued to walk on, slowly disappearing until there was only you, standing, rooted to your place. You’re alone, he left and then there it was again. The pain! It’s suddenly creeping into your veins. You frantically screamed. You need to escape. You ran wildly as if chasing something like a mad man. Then you stumbled. Far, so far, you couldn’t even remember how long you were stumbling.
A voice, you thought you heard a voice. A man’s voice. Crooning, whispering something in your ear. You slowly opened your eyes. And you saw a face bending over you. A blurred face. Who are you? Hope started to well in your heart as you thought that it could be him. You heard your name. You thought it’s over. Drowsiness started to get into your head, you fell asleep and then.










































