​A cozy place to live –

A small house

With a garden

Of beautiful plants;

A bird-bath in the midst,

And a bowl to hold grains –

Snacks for birds on-the-go.

A lovely basin filled with fresh water

And another on the other side with food

Outside the main gates

For cows, stray dogs and cats

To eat and drink in peace;

Walls of the house

Painted personally

By the hand,

Pictures drawn here and there,

Reflecting old memories;

Photos hanging everywhere,

Each portraying

Moments from the past –

Memories lined with love,

A reminder of how

Life was once a celebration.

A faithful dog 

That can silently listen

To all complaints

And rejoice

In every joy brought home;

Lined up on the walls –

Guitars of every size and hue;

A dedicated shelf in the corner

That makes a tiny library;

A christmas tree grown inside

Decorated in a splendid manner

On every year’s December;

A thick-wheeled bicycle

Parked outside

To ride on every morning;

A warm bed and a quilt to spread on,

Is the kind of future 

That is often dreamed about.

— I’ll try to make my home like this in the future —

Banned from DreamWorld!


The Daily Post used to give us daily prompts promptly at 6 or 7 o’ clock in the evening. Now, it’s eleven, and the prompt has arrived… rather not-so-promptly.

Today, we bloggers were asked: Let’s assume we do, in fact, use only 10% of our brain. If you could unlock the remaining 90%, what would you do with it?

Well… normally, all others use 10% of their brain, but I’m afraid I use only 3% of what the others use. Three percent of ten percent… that is, 0.3%. If a person who on average uses 0.3% of her brain is able to use 90% of her brain (I hope it does exist somewhere in the upper storey), then she would definitely try to overtake Bill Gates, will she not?

“Five… four… three… two… one… preparing to land…”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Welcome to your destination… DreamWorld.”

I’d have been owning some company called ‘Nanosoft Corporation,’ and Bill Gates would have been casting his envious eyes upon my wonderful, gargantuan building that would pay twice the amount Microsoft employees are paid. Wherever you walk into my Nanosoft Corporation building, you’ll find fully solved Rubik’s cubes lying around in every corner. And you might find a few Calculus sheets lying here and there, too. I tend to be messy and lazy most of the time at times.

My to-be dream corporation -- Nanosoft group of companies.

My to-be dream corporation — Nanosoft group of companies.

And if you visit my house, you might find paintings similar to that of Leonardo Da Vinci… okay, perhaps with not exactly the same brilliancy as his paintings have, but something similar… After all, that genius is said to have applied science to his paintings to make them look mesmerizing. The portrait of Mona Lisa is a very good example… her smile looks mysterious because he is said to have applied an illusion method in his painting to make the portrait look as if she’s smiling whenever the viewer is not directly looking at the celebrated figure. If I could apply much more than Leonardo himself, then perhaps my paintings would be tenfold better?

My version of the Mona Lisa painting would be exactly like this one.

My version of the Mona Lisa painting would be exactly like this one.

Knock, knock!

This is when Reality knocks at my door. I crouch beside my door, away from the probing eyes of the devil and press myself tight to the door. I don’t want to face him right now. Not right away.

Knock, knock, knock!

“Who’s there?”

“Open up!”

“Is it Reality?”


“Then who?”


Wow. It was not Reality, after all. I jump up and down like a spring in a wrecked sofa, and finally get up.I slowly open my door out of curiosity. If it had not been Reality, then who was it? The new person from overseas, Miss Carefree Reverie, perhaps?

I get instantly greeted a cold bucket of water on my face.

“Whoa! What was that for, Mr. Rudeboy?!”

“I am anti-desire, and have come to wake you up from your dream. Though Reality has gone for a vacation to Antarctica, I often tap on silly brains of the lazy fellows and give them dosage that reminds them of their true self and to stop them from being an internet junkie.”

I shiver with the cold water seeping through my skin. I knew that the ‘internet junkie’ thing was aimed at me, but decide not to quarrel with him on that.“Why are you doing this to me, Mr. Rudeboy?”

He shrugs. “I’m just doing my job.”


“Just like WordPress has an anti-spamming facility, DreamWorld has an anti-desire-ing facility to make people realise they have better things to do in life than submerge themselves in greed.”

Oh right. “I’m glad they do. But what better things?”

The little Mr. Rudeboy gives me a disgusted look, and then gestures me to wait; oh good, he’d better show me what those “better things to do” were, because I already have a feeling I’m doing no”thing” with my life. Mr. Rudeboy’s fingers inch towards the shiny silver button on the side of my head.

Oh no!

Within a flash, Rudeboy moves forward and presses it, even before I could react and push him away from me. He had been the anonymous Mr. Dangerboy all the time, and I had just mistaken him for Mr. Rudeboy. My words wouldn’t come out of my larynx after I realized my end in this world was near. Deep cries erupt from the base of my throat, but die away before they reach my mouth.

Two milliseconds later…

I had been pulled out of DreamWorld and Rudeboy had me banned eternally from entering the fabulous world of dreamy WordPress daily prompts and fun bloggers. I was slowly falling, falling… into a fathomless hole… deep into something that could very well be a new universe

And I landed. And when I looked up and pivoted my neck, looking around, getting accustomed to the strange place where numerous paintings had been placed, a wave of recognition swept over me.

I was in the Louvre Museum.

I looked straight ahead and saw Mona Lisa smiling directly at me, although it seemed she wasn’t exactly smiling. Actually, she seemed to be mocking me. And for a split second, I felt as if her picture came alive and talked out loud: “Leonardo would have laughed at you, had he been alive.”

And I knew it. He would really have.