I had a home...

Once

I had a home

just like you…

a spouse

kids

and a family

 to care for.

Once

I had a home

where we celebrated

birthdays

anniversaries

dinners

and Diwali.

Once

I had a home

that kept us

from Nature

A space

we called our own.

Once

I had a home

Not only the walls

but an adoring

fostering space.

Once

I had a home

and I had

my stories to share

a life to look

forward to.

Once

I had a home 

just like yours…

There are millions of people who were like you and me at some point of their lives, forced onto the streets because of poverty, mental disorders, lack of employment opportunities, war, and lack of affordable housing. These were people with regular lives, a name, a family, an identity. Now they just roam about the streets with no name and identity  with a bag full of memories.

Imperfect Me

I love

procrastinating things

even if they are

a piece of cake

And I can argue

until the moon

goes to bed.

I hate doing

laundry

and I am

never interested in

keeping

my things organized.

I am judgmental

and opinionated

and you've seen

me being a

back seat driver

sometimes.

I love my own

privacy

and want you

too to enjoy that.

I am ambitious

and have a strong

sense of dignity.

I may not

be lady-like

in poses

and idiosyncrasies.

I nag at times

And love to complain.

I am obsessed

with planning

and usually have

alternate plans

ready

in case

some plan fails.

I am sometimes

egoistic

and clingy

at the

same time.

I hate

losing my games

and may not mind

cheating.

I am not patient

or wise

and I may play

a loser sometimes.

I keep grudges

and it's always tough

for me

to let it go

even when I know

I should.

I am strongly opinionated

and will not

like being treated

with the perks

that comes with

"being a woman."

I am always

confused

about where

I want to be

and what

I want to do.

I lie at times

When I think it's a

fair thing

and also sometimes

because it gets "easier".

I give justification

 for small things

where it doesn't call for

but still I have the

urge to.

I acknowledge

my "flaws"

and know that

perfection is

a misconception

a mirage

a unrealizable

paragon.

It doesn't mean

I don't try to

be a better person,

more liberal

less critical

more welcoming

less malign.

I never said

that I wont try

to improve

upon my shortcomings.

All it means

is agnizing

that perfection

isn't the criterion

by which

we judge

ourselves or

others.

I may not be perfect.

But my flaws

make me the

unparalleled person

I am.

They make me

real me

and not the one

I want to be

I am not perfect.

Are you?