My world, small and happy.

‘Hey, all good?’ ‘Why do you look so grumpy?' ‘Wait. When was the last time you smiled?’ I know what you look for. I know how much you wish to see me smile even if I have no reason to smile, most importantly you worry about how I hide my joyous space in between and prefer to have a faded numb face. I also know how you try to make me smile often in ways where I give a faint gentle smile. But you know what? I fake a smile because I’ve been all alone going through this phase. I am lost in my own world searching for your presence, your support and love which would heal me anyhow. But, you know, it is really complicated for me to face you and explain it about how much I want you in my life. I fake a smile because I am devastated in ways where I’ve started giving priorities to self-love which resulted in loneliness. I can tell, it has been my common place as I am alone with my thoughts, which I want to share with you but can’t. Where I want to keep up you till late nights and...

                  “O! My dearest Goddess Mom and God Dad, my supreme creators, I adore and salute your love and support. Thank you for feeding me today and I praise you for making the hours of my life successful and memorable. Guide me to enlightenment always both in my dreams and reality. Glory to you! Modenban Dumla. Good morning.” Like every morning before washing up, I used to stand in front of the door, joining my hands, closing my eyes and doing my prayer on top of my voice so that papa would hear it wherever he was. He knew that I used to skip some lines or words as it was must for me to learn this prayer by heart ever since I was a first grader.                       I still remember how my  aunty, Kamana, who is just 4 months older than me used to come over to look for me to start the day with mischievousness and fun. Our giggling, ridiculous excitement while runnin...

                       After the last bell, I hurriedly changed my classroom shoe, took my sport kit and helmet and rushed towards the exit door, a big wooden door. The clear blue sky, sun’s brilliance on the facade, the mellow blow of summer wind, lingers my hair all through my ride home from the school over the silent freeway road in the cycle lane. I rushed into Universities Guest House and parked my cycle in my favourite spot and ring into our apartment’s bell where I used to be welcomed warmly by my tiny little brother, Aris, who was just 12 months, who would gesture me with cuteness.                       I then dumped my backpack in a corner and sat in front of the TV with some peanut butter and cucumber. That day, we took the road to Opera’s back house park. I rode faster to the park and used to be happy over myself for making at first place, because that ...