“Seabiscuit (May 23, 1933 – May 17, 1947) was a champion Thoroughbred racehorse in the United States. A small horse, Seabiscuit had an inauspicious start to his racing career, but became an unlikely champion and a symbol of hope to many Americans during the Great Depression.”

“The bay colt grew up on Claiborne Farm in Paris, Kentucky, where he was trained. He was undersized, knobby-kneed, and given to sleeping and eating for long periods. Seabiscuit was relegated to a heavy schedule of smaller races. He failed to win his first 17 races, usually finishing back in the field. After that, Fitzsimmons did not spend much time on him, and the horse was sometimes the butt of stable jokes.”

“Seabiscuit was injured during a race. Woolf, who was riding him, said that he felt the horse stumble. The injury was not life-threatening, although many predicted Seabiscuit would never race again”

After many, many failures, this little horse who was just 5 feet, 2 inches went on to become America’s thoroughbred racing’s greatest legend, at a time when the sport needed it the most.

Sometimes broken things fascinate me, broken people and now this once broken animal. Seabiscuit was too small to be a racehorse, his rider was too tall to be a jockey and his owner, well he was too dumb to know the difference and maybe that’s why he went on to become a legend.

That tiny excuse for a horse perhaps didn’t know he was tiny, in his mind he was a staggering stallion, he believed that every gallop he took, struck thunder below his hoofs, cracking the earth as he probably imagined the rest of the horses falling in the ditches of his tracks.

And sometimes, I wish we were all that naïve, dumb enough to be blind to our flaws. Stupid enough to not understand our weakness and tone deaf to the world’s opinion, on what we can and cannot do.

Seabiscuit was no extraordinary horse, he just didn’t know he was too short or knobby-kneed, after his new trainer Tom Smith began training him, he probably was too pompous to think about his failures in the past, all he knew was, that he was being trained for something big, all he knew was what he could do…

Tiny little horse, unaware and oblivious.

I for one, am highly aware of what I’m capable of and of what I’m not.

Sometimes I wish, I was not.




“Pandemonium engulfed the course. Neither horse and rider, nor trainer and owner, could get through the sea of well-wishers to the winner’s enclosure for some time.”





Kiara doesn’t actually know 

The girl just doesn’t know what lies ahead of tomorrow, Or what to have for breakfast.

Or what to have for breakfast.

She doesn’t know if she can hold her tears in longer,

Or her laugh in a serious situation.

She’s not sure if she remembers her own phone number better,

Or the bohemian rhapsody.

She doesn’t know if she should work hard, build a future,

Or forget everything and go backpacking and collect a bookmark from every country.

She wonders if the stars,

Look down upon the city and wish on city lights.

She wonders if the sickly old lady on the street got home safe,

And she wonders if she’ll ever grow that old.

She doesn’t know if she’s worse at public speaking,

Than she is at math.


She’s always been bad at both.

But besides that, the child just doesn’t know.



When he called me “love”, we time travelled across horizons and stopped in 1959.

And there we were, at a drive in where the movie was not the only thing that entertained us!

As I tried to brush away the popcorn crumbs that decked the floors of his 57’ Hudson Hornet, I asked him.

What do you think is the color of Jan’s eyes?

Black and white movies always gave us the freedom to paint the pictures any color we wanted.

“Love, they’d never be as blue as yours”, he whispered as we watched Pillowtalk for the 12th time.

I was called “Love”, not “bae”, nor  “boo”, and he’d remind me every day.

His “love” because we belonged to a time that was, to a time we wished to live.

The drive ins and ice cream parlours,

The time of sock hops and malt shops,

Where we imagined dancing close and driving far,

Sneaking out and falling…

In trouble, ‘cause Daddy caught him throwing pebbles at my window,

In my arms, cause I’ve always been as warm as a nightlamp,

In love and in other such fantasies.

Precious Girl




Have you seen her eyes?

Chiseled from saphire, blue.

Have you seen them glow, even at love untrue?

Have you seen her lips?

Born of roses, red.

Have you seen them blossom in monochrome autumns we dread?

Precious eyes of saphire blue,

They could sit on an emperor’s crown,

But have these eyes ever cried, have they ever drowned?

Lips so royal, of scarlet sin,

Its beauty ages old,

But have they ever spoke of love,

Have they calmed a soul?

Precious girl, what are you made of,

Or what is made of you?

Rubies and roses, silver and gold.

Is that all you’ll ever know?

Or love and kindness,

Courage and politeness,

Will there be ever more?




Maybe Next Christmas

A cup of coffee to replace my mother’s hug,
Eerie sound of winter chill takes the place of my father’s cheer,
No more baby brother’s laughter to keep away all that’s austere,

Another christmas eve,
tucked in bed,yet made to believe,
that under a lit up sky, beneath the Christmas star,
next christmas my family won’t be so far.

Maybe next christmas I’ll have a tree,
and mother’s homemade rum cake all for me,
maybe in love, under the mistletoe.

Next christmas might be mine,
You never know.

Finding love is a lot like looking for the perfect dress

Sometimes finding true love is a lot like finding the perfect prom dress.When you find the right one you will stop in your tracks and you will see it for what it really is.
At first you move from one boutique to another trying on different dresses. 

So many different colours to choose from, and so many different styles.
Some make you look cute, some make you look hot. 
Some may have looked so right when displayed on the mannequins but when you try it on your self, you realise it isn’t the right one. 
Then there’s that one which looks perfect from afar, with all its sequins and rhinestones. You can almost see a halo shining around it calling your name, like it is made for you but, when you try it on you discover how shabbily it was tailored. The sequins and rhinestones begin tugging at your skin and it gives you a rash. It makes you look beautiful but it hurts you with every step you take.
You take it off, you’re really disappointed but you know what matters more. 
So now you stop looking, you still have a few weeks to go till prom and you still have no dress. You’re thinking you probably shouldn’t go now, cause all your friends will have the perfect dress and here you are still searching for the right one. 
But just before you’re about to give up you see this dress in a bottle green shade. It may never have been your favourite colour nor was it the style you wanted but something, just something drew you to it. And when you tried it you knew for sure this was the last dress you would try.
You didn’t want to waste any time looking for another lest someone else got it , because this one was the only piece of it’s kind. 
I remember what I felt when I found my dress, it was bottle green, off shoulders and made of raw silk. It didn’t need any sequins or rhinestones, it had its own little shine. 
It just hung there, ever so humble yet oceans apart from the rest. It made me feel beautiful with all my flaws and jagged edges. 
I also remember what I felt like when love came knocking. I stopped in my tracks and saw him for what he really was. Without the shiny stuff, pure and selfless. Like the perfect piece of fabric wrapping my soul and making my heart full. 
True love is never superficial like cheap satin and sequins, mine was rich raw silk and an old bottle green.