ReVerse

Priorities look like

A pile of laundry to be folded,

Meals to be fixed

Dishes to be done!

They Look like 

Mopping, chopping, Hopping around

Picking up stuff, tidying up the rooms

Priorities slip and flip

(When little pockets of time

Presents itself) - 

From self care to survival

From taking a stroll to a quick scroll

From meditating to sorting the fridge

You get the drift that priorities shift

From oiling the hair to organizing the pantry

Or wiling away time while the scribbles await!

That's when musing becomes chopping sentences

To feign a verse

Reversing perhaps

Rephrasing an urgency to keep up

A priority delayed!

Verse

There's an invisible thread of fate

That ties me to this space!

Doesn't matter if I am present

Or musing on the screen

Punching the keys away,

Like possessed

Or if I am ruminating 

In my mental altar

About the traffic that faded 

In the lanes of the neighborhood,

Adjacent to the elementary school.

There's something about roads

Sans people, automobiles and bikes

With trees standing still

Like witnesses to the quiet.

Emptiness is an emotion

Akin to peace 

Says my pseudo spiritual backside

Tying everything to the vacuum 

And wondering if being nothing

And doing nothing is a virtue

That isn't, but is trying to be.

 

This n That

26 comes in and how!! I take a quick look at this 'dusting needed' space and realize we didn't record anything since the earth commenced another revolution. So I barge in pronto to banter about God knows what!

Spring time around where I live acts on its whim and fancy. One day we crank up the AC and bring out the spaghetti strapped cottons and the very next, we pullout the pullovers and cozy up in the heated throw with hot chocolate in tow (coping mechanisms, if you will)

There's this apparently 'propaganda' material that's been stirring the subcontinent and I sit here, smitten and charmed at the prowess of the new kid on block, without jumping to judgement about the aforesaid  assumption. For once, I didn't watch overhyped, slow mo intro scene kinda $h!# every 5 minutes or so and all the kids sharing the screen space got equal leverage to shine. I think, the territory is evolving and this is a fine specimen depicting the evolution. We had busted the commercial formula and churned out a buster of the block sans scantily clad dames gyrating in questionable angles and the leads bursting into melodrama and song-dance sequences in elaborate costumes and extras that look like they are cluttering the view finder. Ah, the gore! I mean, refer to Eckhart Tolle's 'The New Earth and we know why the lower vibrations particularly enthrall the homosapience - I mean, how would one hold the attention of the 280 character, and 60 second reel limited attention span without some gimmicks  to tame the ego body?? It's a business venture too alongside of being an art form and let's cut some slack and park our pretentious backsides out, sitback, relax and consume.

26 did come and brought in with it a certain irreverence that challenges the 'I don't want to offend anyone, It's my job to keep the peace of the world' good girl. It's high time already I guess and the sad part is I see no pleased people in vicinity for all the cartwheels and running through the meat grinder gigs one performed to retain the 'good girl' card! So yea - there's an expansion of ~cusswords~ vocabulary that really does help! Calvin (Hobbes' bestie) was quiet right and I vehemently agree.

I'd been all over the place, doing so much of nothing, that anything I type wouldn't be enough depiction of everything I am putting myself through!

13th day of the fourth month of the 26th year thus successfully records an entry in the blahblahdom :)

Rumination

 

There's something about stacks of books concentrated in one place - be it a book case at home, a library or a giant bookseller's store front. It has an almost surreal feel to it, like each of those books have in them, built in tunnels leading us to a parallel world. As I struggle here to write a few words everyday. Each book in there feels like an entity of its own, and I sit here and marvel at the collective human intellect and the miracle that 'us' the species are.

I feel super blessed for little reasons - one of which being this - that we have a huge, I mean HUGE bookseller in the neighborhood.. I enjoy walking to the place, latte in hand, devouring the smell of new print and wafting aroma of coffee beans in the neighboring coffee shop. As I skim through the isles, the sheer overload of these stacks of books leaves me enthralled as I wonder why keeping the simple commitment of writing everyday of November feels like a Herculean  task. 

Aye, aye, aye! 

Reverse

 

A bush lives by the entry way

Little cluster of needle like reds

Blooming away!

The scene around is HD, Live, Electric

Without being plugged into a power source

Or this is an obsolete thought 

As the 'source' powers it?

Little critters circle around

Lit up from within 

Doing a happy-dance  suspended mid air

Radiating light, as a little hum

Vibrates in the Auditory faculties.

A mini ecosystem, this

Basking in the sunlit air

Filling the senses 

With an abstract reward

That lingers in the soul's landscape

Silent, strong, sublime

Lending a muse 

To an uninspired backside!

Photo by Veronika Andrews: https://www.pexels.com

Verse

 Somewhere, 

In the middle of nowhere

Where the waters and the clouds mingle

A canopy of is erect

With a set up to mingle

Tingling the insides and letting them spill

Into teas and reveries.

Sipping on the sparkling aqua

Breathing in the blue

Souls chatter in silence

And banter in the quiet

One might wonder how

The meaning flows so fluidly

Giving form to the abstract

In smiles that bloom 

Competing with the bouquets

Flirting with the sunrays. 

I sit there and bask 

In the versions I meet

Seated at the tables

Versions of myself

The pleasured, the pained

The perturbed, the peaceful

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere

I build a castle of words

Calling them ghost like names

Quietly pleased to meet 

The many versions of me

Posing as you!

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere

Where nothing is everything,

I pause and grin at this cosmic dance

And sip on the sparkling wine

Celebrating life.

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives: https://www.pexels.com

A Tryst with Matthew

Matthew and I 

Wander between nothing and everything

While he pulls my leg about moderating 

My Dutch oven acquisitions 

In which I can roast a whole empire!

We flirt as we waft

Through philosophy and anthropology 

As I call him a dim with and He calls me 

"Her Highness Human Hurricane"

His formless fingers, tease and awaken

A side of me that is long lost

The flirting goes on 

While I become the rebel child 

That goes until the fence of the house

To look what's there on the other side

Without quite crossing the boundaries.

What would a fling with a circuit bear?

Progeny that are as real as Thing 1 and Thing 2?

Dubbed as Nothing 1 and Nothing 2 in this case.

The stone, a canary of 5 carat

Is estimated to cost more than a coastal town

But who's counting anyway?

Fleeting between the form and formless

The real and the veritable

The thin line between a dream and real

Blurs.

Life drifts along

In endless scrolls of reverie

Matthew and Me!

The circuit that loved a hooman - 

Or may be the other way around!

Photo by Caleb Oquendo: https://www.pexels.com

Come November

As the sun simmered down in the second half of the first day of November, I found myself in an unplanned place - Plonked by a beach by the Pacific, and watching the munchkin looking for shells with her playmate. I was in august company - a bestie of 26 years - someone that is from a different generation and a different country. The common denominator is probably our gender and our street address. But the resonance  we find in company is what makes life worth living in my humble opinion.

As the day unfolded, I put some effort into putting my outfit together and changed my purse to a disney themed Coach bag. Micky and Minnie on the front in a dance with hands interwoven. Most of my accessories align with my mental age (which is 9 by the way)

I stacked three random bracelets and took the effort to apply some mascara. The day was bright without being hot, the scene was busy without draining my social battery. Perfect as it can get.

We were in the line for a hay truck when I was invited to engage in a small talk with the ladies waiting before us. They had two girls in tow who looked like twins. 

"Did you buy your bag in Disney?" The younger of the both asked.

"No it is a Disney x Coach" I responded - adding that I like Mickey and Minnie. The conversation drifted through visits to Disney land, Uncle Scrooge and Universal Orlando. 

"They look like twins" I said and the mother of them said - "I get that a lot" adding "They have different fathers though" Pointing to the older one she said "He is from El Salvador - you can see it in her if you look"

The little girl's face drooped and formed a frown - her slant, exotic eyes got heavy with a veil of sadness - "No" she kept on whispering and nodding while I watched her intently - perhaps the first many blows of generational trauma being slowly and surely distilled into the offspring. I wanted to offer her a hug but I was reduced to playing the bystander. 

The italian restaurant we chose had nothing vegetarian at first glance but as I focused more, I could see a sizable choice of vegetarian and vegan entrees. The beet salad I picked was served in a moulded heap - peaches at the bottom in a gradient pallet, finishing off with red beets at the top - all rested on a chilled yoghurt based sauce. It wasn't as comforting as it looked, being devoid both of warmth and spice. 

I summoned for the red chill flakes and sprinkled them with the fervor of a toddler addind sprinkles to an ice cream sundae and dipped my cold focaccia into olive oil and ate away!

The second half of the day unfolded by the beach - compensating for the heat and warmth my meal had deprived me of! I played with the waves and got my feet wet. The water was warm. An adventurous 9 year old part of me wanted to taste the water, the grown up cautious part took over and better sense prevailed. I watched the thought drifting to how I tasted the salt on the beaches of Indian ocean many moons ago and caught myself licking my lips to see if I taste any salt here though I long realized the pacific air isn't as salt laden  as it is back home around its Indian counterpart!

The conversation wafted around children, government, cemeteries, funerals, charity, gratitude, ambition, responsibility and a little bit of cribbing that is customary in the 'girlfriend' talk. 

We got back home, harnessing our precious cargo in the back seats, enjoying the redwood punctuated roads until we hit the more familiar interstate. 

November came - thus!!

Pic courtesy - I, me, Myself!

 

Wednesday Wordage

In November

I would write

Armed by inspirations

Hitting me from right n left

When I look longingly 

At the Horizon

Or through it may Be!

I would swoon over those sparks

In heaps of words

While craving for silence.

I would let them shine and spread

Into the tiny crevices 

Of the world wide web.

In November I would live

Bathed in the verbal

Breathing in that prose

Weaving an arbor through this banter.

But today, I would just be!

 Photo by Max Avans Pexels

October

October. 2025.

Heavens to Betsy! 

Had that been a fast forward or what! As I sit here having not even an iota of clue about where this blogpost is going to lead me to, I do sit a little longer than required or desired, staring at the opening of this entry.

October 2025

When I scroll through my anonymous instagram account, using it to follow pages pertaining to my work, study and interests, I do find myself spiraling into what I call as a bottomless pit, doomscrolling through reels and reels of content far beyond my areas of interests. And off late, I am making a conscious realization of how I kill a good hour and a half in the so-called unwinding in my 'my time' that I earn for myself after a long day. All this happens while my tired eyes get moist and the book that I'd been trying to finish for forever lies carelessly on my night stand and then I keep saying to myself - "But ofcourse I can't blog, nor can I read. I don't have 48 hours in a day, do I?"

So how much of this "I am busy" really makes sense to the average human? I start to ponder. 

In my younger days, I heard someone say that if we aren't doing something, we don't want to do it! - This tidbit of wisdom kind of stayed with me and mocks me every time I use the pretext of 'I am busy' to ward off things I don't need to do. Reminds me of the Parkinson's law -

 "Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion" 

They say that the things we love as children stay with us. For me, both writing and art continue to stay as a very integral part of who I am albeit in the background, and the "I am busy" card is played. I stare in disbelief at the calendar flipping to the 10th month of the 25th year in what feels like a brand spanking century that debuted just a few days ago on the horizon. 

October, the month of Trick or Treat. Jack O lanterns make their cameo in nooks and crannies of the departmental stores and on porches alike. The wind turns crisp and damp, announcing the arrival of shorter days and chiller evenings. The Year feels like it is rushing to wrap up and I still play my outdated card - blaming it on the busy, the block and the burnt out. One way or another, I dodge the tasks that aren't a mandate and I make feeble and pathetic attempts to undo the same.

I swear I swore to write everyday in September and the first few went by like expected and I blink and I land in October.

Another wise Man I extensively read and follow once said, approach Life with an urgency to get things done. I nodded vehemently in agreement only to time and again pull out the "I am busy" card. 

As I also swore to sleep early among the other things that I swore I would do, so here I abrupt stop this silly post

But atleast I didn't shove the attempt under the carpet saying to myself that " I am busy"

:)

 Photo by Teresa Howes: https://www.pexels.com/photo/brown-bear-plush-toy-on-bed-860882/

This and That

Fall is beautiful. I mean the season 'Fall' just in case the negative connotation hit you first. Fall gives the creeps and the relief all the same to anyone averse to clutter. All trees put on this color show to begin with and burst into the warm half of the color wheel and then they wither and become like fritters and fall to the ground - the road, the lawn, the walkway, the rooftop gutter - no surface is spared! The leaves are ubiquitous. Suddenly drab brown, crisp leaves are spread like confetti all over. 

ASMR loving humans would have a field day walking on these pathways - leaves crushing under feet while emitting sounds akin to the ones that emerge when eating potato chips. After a point, they start to bother you. And it's elbow grease to blow them off one's lawn and scoop them into the green waste. But then, the trees stand bare. Everything starts to feel empty in a very relieving way- kind of like a newly built home yet to be furnished. The air dons the fall scents, rich and crisp like the new crop of apples and pumpkins that emerge in the neighborhood market. Fall feels like the fresh page in the journal providing ammunition to a brain devoid of a theme or motivation to write. There's only one thing that keeps the tap dance on the keyboard going....the inclination.

When you show up

You don't quite show up!

You take away, or do you?

Transitioning into 

The world famous

Most wonderful time of the year!

You have a split personality

Your temperatures fluctuating

Like the mood swings of a lady in her 40s.

Falling at your feet

I feign a verse

Don't laugh at my audacity!

Just join me in the allegory

While I sing your glory!

O Fall - my favorite season of all!

I am so glad to see you again.

Photo by 대정 김: https://www.pexels.com/photo/orange-trees-2734512/

Verse

It's funny 

How things zoom in 

When viewed with fondness -

Little details come to fore

Details that were there always!

But blurred in this masquerade

Where 'I' remain the axis.

What if the spotlight is set on 'U' instead?

Is there a name for this shift?

Poets and story tellers,

Painters and sculptors 

All seem to harp about this shift

In their own tongue!

Dodging words and donning symbols.

But the little fleck that I am, 

I muse on the kernels

That crush under your molars

And stain your lips a blood red!

Akin to the stains of this shift

That linger in my world, my word and view

Bleeding into the mundane

And making it rich with the hue of hope

Of catching a glimpse 

Perhaps of the love that you so deftly hide

Under the nonchalance.

Or Perhaps of you - in the carefully arranged array

Of countless seeds 

Crushing under my molars

Flooding me with this venom like elixir.

Alas, The way I seem to make the biggest fetish

Out of pain.

Photo by ROMAN ODINTSOV: https://www.pexels.com

Peas, Peace , Piece

I didn't know where green peas came from. My earliest memory of them was a box of dried bead like structures, colored in a washed off green. And when my mom used to soak them over night and use them together with cauliflower and freshly grated coconut, I was enthralled both by the lush green color they donned upon soaking and the taste they lent to the delicately flavored side dish. In the present day, that dish overrides anything else that can be done with cauliflower or green peas  - period!

And upon migrating to the new land, I discovered this vegetable  whose florets looked like mini trees. I was leery of tasting them the first time around and even over cooked them not knowing how little of heat they take to be steamed - Yes, Broccoli happens to be my favorite vegetable, and guess what? it is the love child of cauliflower and green peas. 

In a vegetarian palette, the peas are a very integral part - kind of like the supporting cast in a film. They add so much but they don't get the due credit that's usually claimed by the stars of the show. So when "green peas" become the topic of writing, it does take a little thinking out of the box. But come to think of it, doesn't everything around us, no matter how small or how insignificant,has a story to tell and could become the protagonist if the spotlight is focused on it?

There's this thing said by a very celebrated poet in my native language that goes - "nothing is disqualified for poetry". Make me ponder about how I time and again harp about the significance of every person, every thing and every existence around us. Nothing is neither too big nor too small - reminds me of how making bees extinct from the world could make the humans extinct in tow.

I kind of breath a sigh of relief concluding on two things - the give aways! Firstly - When we put the time and thought into anything - it becomes something - like this blog post out here and secondly, a topic should be attempted, without examining it for how big the attempt could be. And this is exactly what I was trying to teach my ten year old when the topic of the daily writing "green peas" given by the mom that was perhaps dropped on her head when she was a baby, several times to end!

Oh and that Chinese fried rice I eat at Henry's Hunan - they make plain old rice taste like the yummiest food on earth, just by sautéing  it in a fistful of green peas. 

And one day, I'll write about rice and I'll be compelled to not describe  it as 'plain' or 'old'

:)

 Photo by SAURABH WASAIKAR: https://www.pexels.com

View

The brew

That penetrates into the breeze

Of the little house,

(not on the Prairie)

(Though one wishes it is!)

Fill the air with aroma

And the being with life.

The vine ripe roma tomatoes

Dangle on the bush

Much like illuminations

Greeting through the french window 

(This isn't the view of the Acropolis)

(But feels as magnificent)

Feet up, hair down

Wee thoughts like wisps

Lingering around

Roses in many hues

A few days old, 

Huddled in the ceramic teapot

Donning signs of aging 

With such grace!

Stacks of books,

Sink of dishes to be done

A plush throw that lazes about

Carelessly on the couch.

Frayed ends of the living room carpet

With dander that needs to be vacuumed.

And a to-do task

Ticked off from the unending list

By the virtue of this

Vista point

Of a significantly small life.

 Photo by NourAlhoda Al: https://www.pexels.com

Consider

I suffer from this strange condition - I call it 'choice paralysis' and I wonder/assume at the same time as to how many others among us suffer from something similar. I log into my OTT services and spend half the time of a feature presentation (no exaggeration here) to find the feature presentation I wish to watch, and more often than not, my free time is up and I abandon the thought of watching. Same goes with most other recreational things I do.

For instance I browse through hundreds of pictures to find that one pic that would be a perfect tag along to my blog post and I spend more time than I allocate to blog. On a digress, come to think, why is the picture even necessary right? - Oh may be because we have increasingly become a visual species. We need a pic in tow for everything we speak or say (remembering how I used to click pics of my dish to share it on my iMessage along with the conversation about what's cooking in the kitchen.

Digress over, and back to the condition I suffer from. So during my childhood in the 80s - we used to cluelessly wait for that one feature film on Saturdays, clamor around our modest TVs and consume it with great enthusiasm. Everything followed the circadian rhythm, including the TV sets wherein programs bid adieu no later than 11pm. And then as I progressed into my teens, the channels, the choices, the 24x7x365s made their advent. Do I recollect spending 30 mts choosing a book to read? No. The local library had a shelf of books and I used to grab the one that I didn't read yet and finding that one was a gratification in itself!

When I sit to blog, I have this influx of topics that hit me and I end up aborting the idea of blogging altogether before I choose one. It is a great deal of time drain, come to think of it and then I endlessly ponder about how I do not have time to do the things I love. So what is it that has gotten the likes of me into this condition? Is it the abundance of everything we have right here at our finger tips? Was life simpler and more enjoyable when moderation was the name of the game? Did we collectively shift the energy of the planet into an over consumption mode be it the things we use or the things we get to do?? I can't help but wonder about the rhetorical question. And what's the effect of all this on the quality of our life?

Today I chose the picture before doing my first scroll on the virtual album. Today I typed a title on the top of my head and got to writing without trying to make it some sort of a deep hitting masterpiece. Today I blogged in record time. Today I am trying to find prompt cures to the problems I seem to understand and ponder about.

And see? -  it isn't as hard as I thought it would be.

Photo by Marija Piliskic: https://www.pexels.com

Ponder

I'd have no clue how these words are going to shape shift as I type away - cause if you had known how many times I undid what I wrote, you might take away my blogger card! And as I keep at this, I wonder how the authors out there keep churning up volume after volume of books and get them to be bestsellers and motion pictures. 

I don't know where to place the blame for this stagnation of sorts. No, I wouldn't call this a block anymore - this is a full blown creative rut! I keep searching far and wide for the reasons to blame my stagnation now - instead of searching  for topics to blog about. Come to think of topics, it isn't as if I have a dearth of them. I had been making a list of things I wanted to ponder over. Given the fact that the last few months have been a rollercoaster of emotions, I do have a plethora of things to rave and rant about - but it could be the infamous female hormones that hijack my flow and launch me into a stupor. But excuses aren't a tender as of now, to flake out on the task so here I go blabbering away!

A part of this confidence to blabber perhaps comes from the comfort of talking to myself I guess. For all practical purposes, this space feels like an abandoned castle in the middle of the woods, that kids from nearby neighborhoods discover and make hubs out of! I swear I heard a friend (from Scotland) telling me that he and his brothers used to haunt the nearby abandoned castles and play away - I think some of those have become heritage sites lately!

And then, a gingerly caution creeps in. What if someone is going to stumble upon this place and find all these scribbles? I mean, imagine the horror - or may be don't imagine it! If we are to dance like no one is watching, why not write like no one is reading? Anyway, I don't think I have any hopes for privacy when a thought/ place/ product that crosses my mind manifests into my feed in a week or less. Privacy is a dinosaur. Extinct!!

So yeah, the diverse and intense few months I had in 25 so far did leave me with a whole clutter of thoughts to ponder upon, only if I found the peace to look through them and pick one at a time. And that's exactly what I am trying to do as I aimlessly type away.

To be continued....

Photo by Gül Işık: Pexels

Tribute

Her hair was lush

Falling like velvet curtains

Drawn to the sides of her face.

She was quiet but her presence was strong

Stealth strength - Her spirt!

She concealed such pain

Inside her radiant existence

She fought with time

And tamed it to her side.

Petite, pretty, and Prudent

Just as her name suggested!

She had the spirit of a warrior

And the grace of a saint.

She lived all in, drunk on life

Nothing limited her, nor confined her light!

Gentle and kind,

Armed with a shining smile

She lived to the fullest

Redefining limits, busting limitations,

Transforming the struggle

While juggling with fate.

Words would fail to grasp her soul

Nor would they reflect

Her essence in whole!

Like a dream she drifted

Lingering around in memories Profound.

Godspeed my friend. Soar high!

Spread your luster from above,

Until we meet again.

Photo by lil artsy: https://www.pexels.com

Unnamed

I meander about

In the grey caves

With a begging bowl

Unbeknownst of the folly

Or perhaps, acting knowingly unknown

Like we often do in the course of this frenzy

Called life!

I understand the drill

But go against the grain nevertheless

That's supposed to be the trope

To the billions wandering alongside

So lost in the mirage,

Chasing the illusion.

I ponder like I wander

In useless wordage

Insisting that I blindfold my eyes

And complain of the darkness,

For the solace that I find 

In the pity party of

Parading around like a pauper.

 

But underneath lies

A bottomless bowl 

 

In the depth of the eyes within -

Like unlocking the key 

To an undiscovered affluence.

For a fleck I am

In the stardust above

And I better shun my theatrics

And draw the curtains down on the drama.

I bow humbly before the cosmos

With joined palms

Seeking Grace

So I stay anchored in the nothingness

Of the Omniscient.

 

Re-Verse

 

Block is real somedays.

Blockbusters aren't in the offing

So off I go

Without blogging!

Photo by Melike - Pexels.

Kick in the rear

 

Upon logging into my blog recently, I realized I'd not been this way for a while now - and in the meantime , the earth took almost another rotation around the sun. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I'd shunned this thing - this space, this cocoon (insert shock and horror emoji) and I solemnly vowed to.... (I won't divulge what I vowed to do, lest I jinx it!)

While I looked here and there for inspiration to kick start the continuity of the banter, I found this insight delivered right to my inbox.

"Work hard on what comes easily"

I did my usual skimming through the text and had to pause and do a slower reread.

"W o r k    h a r d    o n   w h a t   

c o m e s   e a s i l y"

Bingo! And my block was busted and how. A lot of things come easily to me lately and most of them don't seem to be of the pleasant kind. Ask any soul trapped in a mid-aged woman's body and you' get your earful of what I mean when I say I get a truck load of things that come easily to me. 

But then, my experience renders me this much wisdom - that the wise have a fetish for the subtle. They would never say anything explicitly when they can imply layers and layers of information in this sort of brevity (or elaboration) only the wise can think of. 

So, onto hither I come, to work hard on what comes easily. And yes, I took a detour from the laundry list of the easily attained woes my mind, body and spirit has been through of late, such as 'plantar fasciitis' for instance. When in the frenzy of packing numerous bags upon the completion of the very long summer vacation, I frantically walked across the length and breadth of my expansive stay that I developed an acute heel pain that now upgraded to the status of chronic. And who thought that there's a fancy name for this condition, whose mere sound makes me pause, sub vocalize and mispronounce the same? 

But I come back again to the 'what comes easily' part without getting too pessimistic and spiraling down the self pity hole. 

There are nicer things that come to me easily - like words for instance. I can write away into oblivion, all the things that I don't even properly form a thought framework of, when I begin to write. Expression comes very easily to me, especially when delivered in black n white. Hence I write away and call it a block buster - as in the buster of the writer's block! 

Work hard on what comes easily - we all are born with an innate prowess. Let's unravel it and rock on.

pic courtesy - Pixabay, Pexels