Monday, 30 June 2025
Friday, 27 June 2025
Today is my sister's birthday and this is a poem for her
A one of a kind love,
That’s what we have….
Your hand in mine,
Our story has come so far…
Discovering our potential
Is still underway,
A fountain of youth
Spiritually and intellectually,
Is on the way
You share my love,
Of the world within
Energy and wonderfulness
And existing well in our skin
None can take the place,
Where you have come to stay
You see my tears coming,
When they’re kilometres away…
I’m your little baby,
And so I 
shine,
shine,This world would be empty,
If you weren’t in mine.
I love you forever and
Forever we will,
Be the bestest friends ever
It takes zero effort or skill
Happy birthday to the world’s bestest sister 
Your naughty little sister,
Lekha
Thursday, 26 June 2025
Monday, 23 June 2025
Lekha and her lisp
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| Street art, St.Gilles, Brussels |
As a young child I had a lisp. I couldn't enunciate the 'g' or the 'k' sounds. It used to sound all cute when I used to say dod for dog and dod for God. I used to pronounce my name Lekha as Letha and my sister whose name is Latha was also Letha to me. Cake was of course 'theth'. All this was considered normal since I was the baby of the family.In any case those days, our family had no money to consider a speech therapist. I don't even know if such a specialist existed in our area back then. One day, my oldest brother Raj who was 14 years older than me decided that it was time for me to stop talking like a baby. He didn't think the lisping would go away on its own and he knew it wouldn't stay cute for long.
That evening, he asked me to not go down to play with my friends. I wasn't so happy about it but he said he wanted to teach me something. He sat with me alone at home, away from distractions and worked with me to get rid of the lisp. He made me repeat the sounds after him and showed me where in my mouth I was to place my tongue to generate the right sounds. I don't know how he had it all figured out. He would have been barely out of his teenage years himself and had had absolutely no training of any kind in teaching or dealing with small children. But what mattered was that his method worked. When each of my family members trooped in that evening, I showed them with great pride that I could pronounce dog as dog and God as God. I spoke out my name clearly and correctly.
Happily I was cured of those funny ways of speaking before anyone ever made fun of me for it thanks to the genius and foresight of my brother who was looking out for me. I'm pretty sure having a lisp and having to learn to speak French or Dutch as I did in later life would have definitely brought immense hurdles with it.
Confessions of Women - 1
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| On the streets of Schaerbeek |
The things I have experienced or heard of when I was single and dating in today's world can make most of us wonder 'is this what loving someone comes down to?' The fact is that most of us whether married or single are carrying some emotional wounds and some sort of baggage. Another fact is two people that carry different wounds and different baggage rarely meet each other after the healing has been done and the load that was carried is light. Each person in the couple is battling their own past or present demons and thus there are just too many people in the relationship when one hasn't fully healed. For example, when you get upset with your partner because they said something similar to what your ex said to you, there are three people in the situation, whether we like it or not.
There is no timeline when one could consider oneself healed and there is no guarantee that once you feel you're healed none of those demons will rear their heads back in. And this holds true for men or women. I'm sharing here some confessions, one in each episode that I've heard of or experienced myself that still leave me with a feeling of shock on how a human being can treat another after proclaiming to have once been in love with them.
These emotional bruises are not just the prerogative of single people's relationships. People in marriages carry baggage as well. Baggage that has probably been created by and now exists between the two spouses or residual baggage from previous relationships. The fights that never get solved, the things that are pushed under the carpet, the regret of some choices made and the bitterness that could ensue from those regrets. However, my stories are about non-married couples and my point of view has been built more on confessions from women, but I'm pretty sure men have their confessions too. Sorry that I don't know many.
Here's a confession that really shook me up. At 3 a.m., after an evening of partying which ended in an argument between a couple, the woman was woken up by her boyfriend and asked to leave his house because things weren't working out for him. Being jolted out of sleep and kicked out someone's home in the middle of the night... What level of non-love is this?
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