LIFE AS IT IS

I was at an urgent care centre on a November morning following a severe allergic reaction to some cough medication I took the night before. It was 8 a.m. and after filling out some forms, I was sitting in the waiting area, waiting to be called. As a woman walked through the front door, I nonchalantly looked up at her. I was not at all expecting to see something that I never saw before, but I did.  The woman, who was Caucasian, appeared to be in her 40s, and had a split lower lip and a black eye, which she tried to cover with her hair. I had seen victims of abuse and domestic violence in pictures and videos before, but it was the first time I saw one in real life.  I did not look at her twice though. She was clearly in a lot of mental and physical pain and I didn't want to add to her discomfort. But I was breaking inside. I felt like going up to her and telling her that things would be better for her sooner than she thought. But of course, I did not do any of that. I wanted

What is it that we chase? Money, power, dream, love? Or just a mirage? Often, the closer we get to it The faster it disappears. Our hope shatters. But we don't give in We start anew with renewed hope A journey to touch another mirage. © Wara Karim 

Such a short life, yet we run after money and power like we will live here forever. I feel pity for ourselves. 

Roasted peanuts from Whole Foods Market. They taste just like the ones from my childhood days in Bangladesh! I got them for the second time yesterday. These are that good! If you eat them with some salt+chili powder, they taste even better. 

It asked me to look at the sky,  I looked above my head, And I saw mechanical bees, Humming and hovering, Searching for their next targets. It asked me to look at the horizon,  I did and I saw red, A cushy blanket red in blood. That day, I witnessed not a sunset,  But the sad demise of humanity. It asked me to look at open fields. I saw no fields, only barren lands. I saw bodies of slain men, women and children, I saw books, toys, pots and pans - All burnt and broken. It then asked me to look at a busy street. I did and the siren deafened me. I saw ambulance and police car, I saw fire truck and yellow tape, I saw chaos, I heard cries, I also saw a bleeding man - his right arm missing. Writer's page © Wara Karim

Summer bid goodbye not too long ago, but winter is already here, rushing to say hello. There is a short season between summer and winter though, a season that is crisp and colourful. During the presence of this short-lasting season, you feel neither the scorching summer heat nor the bone-freezing winter chill, both of which make life unbearable. I feel its presence in the afternoon when the mild sunshine and cool breeze flood me and my surroundings. Autumn reminds me of my winter days in Dhaka.  I loved winter in Dhaka. It never really got very cold in those days -- a jumper was enough to keep a child warm when he or she headed for school in the morning. It usually warmed up by afternoon and we would take our jumpers off and tie them around our waists. Autumn here in America feels like winter in Dhaka – a light jacket, jumper, or sweater is enough to keep myself warm and cosy.  On an autumn morning, I wake up and tiptoe to the living room in search of my slippers. The hardwood flo