Seoul Searching 7 – Final: Heading Home

In one of my classes, we were taught about Buddhist sand mandalas. Monks would spend weeks creating beautiful murals out of sand, only to wipe them away upon completion. Apparently, this is done to illustrate the notion of impermanence. Nothing is permanent but that does not erase the beauty of what once existed.

Short Story: The Sad Night

On 22nd April 1519, after long months of travelling through oceans, a halt in Cuba and several tempests, we finally catch the sight of land. I can exit this wretched boat and step on the ground. The ten other caravels reach us one by one.

Poem: 10/01

is the word I use
to describe myself.

I have gone through
balanced over pits of lava,
while people stood on the sidelines and watched.

Article: Incapacitated Anxiety

They say, having a disability ‘builds character’ which is true (to an extent), I had grown confidence. Recently, I am hyper-aware of my disability. It is as if I have only begun using a wheelchair and I am adjusting to this new wheelchair-bound life. It is as if this human-surveillance world is something new to me…

Colors of Mexico 5: Rainbow

The sun is beating down in Oaxaca. In this American-like crisscrossed city, each building has a specific color, there is not a single black or grey or white property. Streets are like rainbows, a place where rain and sun mix up to bring out the most beautiful. These concrete rainbows are just as ephemeral since frequent earthquakes destroy the city’s life. However, buildings have always surfaced stronger and prettier, like a tiny three-leaf plant growing through ruins.

Seoul Searching 6: My First Christmas Away from Home

The trees were coated in white, reminding me of the forests seen in Narnia, and the pathways crunched with each step. Our Christmas was a humble one. Between us, we had made a spectacularly simple meal. It was modest and delicious, and I wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world because it was something we had created together.

Poem: Lucky Sod

Just cos I ain’t settled for a life of hustling,bustling on the scrounge -‘I’m a lucky sod.’Felt the skin of a four-leaf clover,or the itch ….