Stories Along the Path

Toruna walks almost every day with her son. These walks are special for her, a time to breathe, notice, and listen to the stories unfolding around. Every face, every moment on the street seems to whisper something to her heart. Walking makes her more thoughtful, more aware of life’s small wonders and struggles …

One evening, on their way to the park, Toruna noticed a tiny woollen cap lying on the road. She stopped and told her son, ‘Maybe a mother was carrying her sleeping baby on her shoulder, and while walking home, the little cap slipped off without her noticing. And then when she reached home and saw it missing, she must have felt sad, that cute little cap of her dear child is lost!’ Her son smiled and said, ‘You’re such a storyteller, Mom.’

They both laughed and kept walking.

But Toruna’s eyes continued to wander, always finding small stories hidden in everyday life …

Near the park gate, she saw twin toddlers quarreling over lollipops, their mother watching with an amused smile. One of the twins looked a bit grumpier, & Toruna observed the mother gently scolding and laughing at the same time ….

A few steps ahead, a woman in niqab (a veil on her face) walked alone on the footpath.
She seemed quiet, almost wrapped in her own thoughts. Perhaps she was returning from a long day at work, thinking about bills, groceries, and what to cook for dinner.
Her steps were slow, her shoulders slightly bent, as if she was carrying more than just the weight of her bag. There was a sadness about her, the kind that comes when life feels heavy but must still move on. Watching her, Toruna remembered that she would be going for Umrah soon, and wondered if she might wear a niqab then too. The thought lingered as she walked on …

Near the park bench, Toruna saw a dead butterfly, its wings still beautiful, though still. She picked it up gently and showed it to her son who looked at it with curiosity, helped her to put it on the height of the side wall!

As they were walking, Toruna observed that two elderly men walked slowly side by side, leaning on their canes and talking as if the world belonged to only them. Their laughter carried softly in the air. Toruna thought about how friendship, even in old age, keeps the heart alive, how sharing stories can make time feel lighter … she wondered what might be the topics of their laughter!

Then, not far from them, a young girl crouched near the edge of the grass, feeding milk and biscuits to a few stray cats. The cats purred and brushed against her legs. Her sweet smile warmed Toruna’s heart, a small act of kindness in a noisy world …

A little further ahead, a young mother struggled with her two small children, one crying, the other running away. Toruna smiled at this sight of this young mother, remembering her own early days of motherhood. How young she had been, and ever since then, how her children had become her entire universe …

She and her son walked side by side, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. These walks had become their little ritual, good for both their minds and hearts …

That evening, they noticed a young boy walking slowly around the park. He looked a bit overweight and tired. Toruna said, ‘I’ve been watching that boy for a while.’ Her son nodded, ‘Yes, he comes here often. I’ve seen him too.’ Toruna felt a sadness for him. ‘I hope he feels better soon,” she said, ‘Life gives everyone some struggle that other people can never understand’ ….

As the sun began to fade, they left the park, stopping by the nearby general store to buy a few things before heading home. Toruna smiled to herself, ‘Tomorrow we’ll come again,” she thought, and surely, the path would have more stories waiting to be found …

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Have you ever wondered, how many stories pass by us each day, unnoticed?

Freedom from FOMO

She no longer fears missing out, for she has learned that what’s meant for her will never pass her by. While the world rushes to chase trends, gatherings, and noise, she finds peace in her own rhythm. Her joy isn’t borrowed from what others are doing, but born from the satisfaction of being present where she is …

She doesn’t measure her life against anyone’s timeline. She knows that every soul blooms in its own season. She would rather miss a hundred fleeting moments than lose the one that truly belongs to her …

For her, the real richness lies not in being everywhere, but in being whole, right where she stands …

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When was the last time you felt at peace simply by being where you are?

Behind her Sunglasses

She has always loved wearing sunglasses …

As a teenager, she would watch her sisters tilt their faces toward the light, their lashes casting long shadows over eyes that shimmered with beauty. When she looked in the mirror, her own eyes seemed smaller, plainer, framed by short lashes. It stung her heart a little, like a tiny splinter she couldn’t quite pull out …

Over time, she began to reclaim them. She traced deep kajol along her lids, soft & dark, like ink drawing a doorway. Her eyes lookd wider, more alive. People began to say she looked striking, and for the first time, her eyes felt truly hers …

Then life changed. Grief came quietly, like water filling a low space. In her reflection, she noticed it, the sparkle that once danced in her eyes had turned gentler, dimmer, like smoke fading after a flame. Her eyes began to carry stories of long nights and silent endurance. She didn’t always want others to read them …

So she reached for her sunglasses. The cool plastic rested against her temples, the tinted lenses washed the world in sepia. It felt like drawing a curtain over a window. Behind them, she had privacy. No one could see the sadness flicker and ask, “Are you okay?” …

She’s learned something through this little ritual, and that is, sometimes covering up isn’t vanity; it’s survival. The layers we wear, sunglasses, kajol, even a careful smile, are small stitches tht hold us togther until we’re ready to heal …

Sometimes, she still wonders: what would it feel like to step into the light barefaced, to let her eyes tell their truth, and to trust the world not to look away?


Her eyes carry stories the world is not
yet ready to read

I♥️

Luz

Light pours in like a gentle guest
She stands where warmth meets wonder
Paint in her hand, soft power in her stance
The table glows with quiet intention
Each colour catching a piece of the day …

#roksanatales

Luz
Spanish for ‘light’ ….

I♥️

Let Go, and Let Bloom
Mindful Drawing Moments by Jian Bird Creates

It’s so satisfying to host sessions like Mindful Drawing Moments’ – what began on a quiet day with a simple act of curiosity. I invited a few willing souls to join me in the pattern artworks I usually create to calm my mind and return to myself. One participant became two, and slowly, word spread. That’s how ‘Mindful Drawing Moments’ was born: gently, organically, like something blooming in its own time …

Since then, these sessions have become spaces where self-help and creativity meet. Through themes like Kaizen, Kintsugi, Manifestation, Self-Love, and Mindfulness, each gathering offers more than just art, it becomes a mirror, a soft release, a shared breath …

Our recent sessions, themed ‘Let Go and Let Bloom,’ invited participants to reflect through drawing wildflowers, free, untamed, purposeful. Dried flowers from my mother’s garden were placed on the table, not just for beauty, but as a quiet symbol: that even after loss or struggle, something fragile and meaningful can still remain …

The way the participants picked up color, poured their thoughts into shapes, and shared reflections was deeply moving. There was no pressure to be an artist, only an invitation to be present …

We began with simple prompts, one that echoed was: ‘Never mind what they’.
Almost all said: ‘think’.
And so the letting go began …

From releasing judgment to choosing kindness, from holding space for others to forgiving ourselves, each voice in the circle added something honest and real. The drawings bloomed with color, but more importantly, so did the people …

The session closed with open hearts and softened edges. And with each event, Jian Bird Creates now offers a Certificate of Participation, a small reminder that showing up for yourself is something to honor …

Warmly,
Roksana Amelia
Artist, Jian Bird Creates

Go My Way

Today, I poured watercolours onto the paper. I didn’t control the flow. I just let them move, soft, wild, honest …

It felt like life. Sometimes, it makes no sense. But still, I move with it. I let it run through me. I follow what feels true, even if no one else understands it …

Nothing made sense today. Nothing went as planned. But I chose to go anyway.
Go right. Go forward. Go my way …

Because even when nothing goes right,
I can still go right …
In my own way …

Jian Bird Creates, June, 2025

Someone

Someone said nothing and I still heard love …

I♥️

Étranger

Sometimes, I find myself simply observing those who seem ‘normal’, the way they speak, the words they choose to describe their experiences, how they react, or how they present their abilities with such careful confidence. Their ease in communication fascinates me, as if they instinctively know how to navigate social expectations.

At times, being among them makes me feel out of place, as if I exist on a different wavelength. Yet, I take myself lightly, even when they joke at my expense. I do not mind, because their amusement does not define me. In fact, I feel a strange sense of joy when they fail to understand me, because, deep down, that’s exactly what I prefer.

Those of us who are born different, who experience the world through a mind that society struggles to categorize, are often labeled with terms and diagnoses. But these labels do not define us. We are nature’s unique creation, wired to perceive life in ways they cannot grasp. And perhaps, they do not need to understand us.

Only a few people ever truly see us for who we are, and that is the rarest gift. The most powerful truth is that we are the ones who teach them how to understand us. It is not luck that allows them to connect with us, it is our choice to let them in. And for that, they are truly fortunate …

A tale from a psychologically challenged soul

Cherry blossoms in Ravenscourt Park, London

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Étranger/ french
Meaning is ‘Stranger’. It reflects the sense of being apart from the norm, of existing on a different wavelength, and not being fully understood by society

I Have a Fondness …

I have a fondness for breaking apart
A fascination with the fragile
The delicate dance of hearts
Walking unsteadily on the edge …
In love …

I have a fondness for breaking apart
At times it seems
Love’s other name is
Broken hearts …
An echo of longing …
A symphony of cracks …

I have a fondness for breaking apart
In love, I find
A beauty in the fracture,
In the spaces …
Where light seeps through the wounds
Where the raw and the real collide
In a blaze of truth and tenderness …

I have a fondness for breaking apart
It’s a mosaic of
Shattered dreams
Pieced together with hope …
A courage of feeling
The audacity of connection …

I have a fondness
For the breaking …
For the way love demands vulnerability …
For the way it strips us bare …
For the way all its flaws are revealed
I have a fondness
For my unguarded heart
Breaking apart …

For in the breaking,
We find the depth of love
The resilience of the beautiful soul …
The beauty of a heart
That dares to love
Even knowing it might break …
That’s how I have a fondness
For breaking apart …

Love

You ask about my love
How deep it is for you …
And the extent of my affection …

My feelings are genuine
And my love is sincere
The moon symbolizes my love …

So tender was the kiss
That touched my heart
Such deep affection
Makes me yearn for you …

You ask about my love
How deep it is for you …
Reflect on this
And gaze above
The moon symbolizes my heart …

Srinagar, Kashmir

Pondering

In puzzled ponder, a name I’ve heard
Though “Roksana” my soul preferred …
Yet as time passed by
A fondness did arise
Love’s influence moves my heart …
Let the name be my tender song
In love’s embrace, I truly belong …

Quiet Contemplation

Your absence has gone through me, like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.”

Separation by W.S. Merwin

The Way of Rest

You cannot save anyone. You can be present with them, offer your groundedness, your sanity, your peace. You can even share your path with them, offer your perspective. But you cannot take away their pain. You cannot walk their path for them. You cannot give answers that are right for them, or even answers they can digest right now. They will have to find their own answers.

Jeff Foster

Nan Nikkeoya

My thoughts are scattered …
Oh dear!

Restless I feel …
My heart aches deeply …
He captivates my heart …

My thoughts are scattered …
Right now …
Oh dear!
I continually shatter my heart,
Dispersing its fragments
Until they touch
The depths of your being,
My beloved …

I Read It As

A university degree, four books, and hundreds of articles and I still make mistakes when reading, You write to me “good morning” and I read it as, “I love you” …

Mahmoud Darwish

Finding Joy

Desires unmet, dreams fade
Yet, gratitude fills the heart
Finding joy in what we have …

Discovering happiness doesn’t always involve fulfilling your desires.; it’s about cherishing what you already possess and expressing gratitude for it …

Finding Joy in life’s simple yet priceless pleasures, like

-relishing solitude at home
-preparing homemade meals
-writing letters in such era of emojis and instant messaging
-engaging in agenda less conversations with loved ones
-spreading joy with smiles and laughter
-lighting fragrant candles
-tending to plants, and
-expressing ‘I love you’ selflessly and unconditionally
-coming back to home by walking and appreciating the friendly neighbourhood and the beautiful surroundings with greenery and flower blossoming

And many more of such things ….

Please do share some of your small moments in which you find joy ….

In English We Say

In English we simply say
“I love you” …

In poetry we say
There’s a phrase that’s forever in view …
With a heart full of glee
It’s easy to see
That phrase, my dear, is “I love you!” …

The Poetry in That Girl

I reconnected with that girl anew –
Who once embraced life fully …
Who danced with every step and radiated joy
Whose eyes were some sunflowers, blooming
And whose soul ignited fireworks, dazzling …

I played music for that girl again …
In hopes that its melody would ignite her spirit within
Creating a haven for her to emerge from the shadows
And dance once more under the stars …

Knowing that she would find solace within these moments
With each sunset painted in hues of gold
And each gentle breeze whispering
Through the trees ….
I hoped to create a sanctuary where she could feel safe enough to reveal herself once again …

Deep within, I felt her presence stirring,
A flicker of recognition amidst the silence …
Longing for my kindness and effort that shimmered with possibility
I vowed to nurture her return
To guide her back into the light
Where she rightfully belonged ..
She belonged to the poetry within her …

Little Roksana

The pic is from the archive of memories of a young girl; another of her mirror image. She was travelling by train, from Kolkata to Delhi ….

It was an amazing journey!

Gunnen

On this day, he reflected, “I recall she used to attend her prayers for Jumma day.” …

On this day, she reminisced, “I recall he would probably meet the girl.” …

Today, he worried, “She has been feeling a bit unwell. Will she still be able to go to the mosque for her prayers? Perhaps she should rest today. Will she ever heed my advice?” …

Today, she pondered, “When will he meet the girl? Will it be in the evening? That would be preferable. It’s quite hot outside today; they might not feel comfortable meeting in such humidity. I hope their meeting goes well.” …

Despite feeling unwell again, she went to the mosque for Jumma prayer, then in the evening she prayed for him before falling asleep …

In the evening, he met the girl, and they enjoyed their time together, discussing their future life …

Throughout all this time, they remember their memories,
Yet they never announce their presence,
Simply flowing directly into their hearts …


I appreciate your prayers for me.

Tell me if there’s anything else you wish to put in this story ….

Gunnen/ dutch
(n.) to find happiness in someone else’s happiness because that’s how much you love them …

Agape

A self-portrait captured
In the window’s reflection …
Streets refreshed, cars in repose,
As the breeze sweeping by …
Your absence is there deep within,
Even in the hustle of life …
A smile graces my lips in this bustling race
Thinking of you ….
Contemplating ….
Life carries me well forward
With an unconditional love for you …

Agape/ greek
(n.) The highest form of love. Selfless, sacrificial and unconditional love; persists no matter the circumstance …

Wonderwall

Do you realize the depth of my longing, the relentless ache for your words that consumes me day after day?

As time slips away, I find myself bereft of the anticipation that you’ll come to me with your thoughts woven into words …

Every passing day feels like an eternity, a solitary bird yearning for the life-giving touch of rain …

I yearn for you incessantly, akin to a tearful child yearning for the comforting embrace of its mother …

My wait for you echoes the patience of a patient seeking their cure …

Do you understand the extent of my yearning, how it wraps around me like a heavy fog, casting shadows of melancholy and confusion?

You are a constant presence, flowing like a river, your thoughts swirling within me, sometimes quietly, always tumultuously …

I ache for you, as if my very spirit is on a quest to find you, while my physical self remains anchored in the depths of my heart, waiting …

I long for the days filled with twinkling moments shared between us, each one a precious gem amidst the vast expanse of time .

Wonderwall
(n.) someone you can’t stop yourself thinking about all the time; the person you’re completely infatuated with …

According to Gallagher, Wonderwall‘ describes ‘an imaginary friend who’s gonna come and save you from yourself; a source of support and strength; a soulmate …

Tacenda

My longing, a relentless tide
Your absence, a void deep inside ….
Am I flawed, or loved?

Tacenda
(n.) things better left unsaid

That Yellow

She paints grace
In glowing yellow …
As the brush-strokes
Softly glide through her skin …
Hers is a delicate face
Soothing and serene;
Tread with a gentle touch
In colors unseen ..
That yellow color girl
In tranquil pose ..
She’s a grace …

Yellow is my favourite color … which color do you like most?

Ethereal

Connected, unseen thread binds,
Across time, place, situations unwind …
Stretched, tangled, yet resilience found,
Improbable love, unbroken, and profound …

Avenoir

In strokes of paints and words
My soul opens up inviting you to breathe life into my world …
Yet you missed the essence, and
The depth of my art … Only once though … yet
The entire ordeal leaves me to ponder, and
Torn apart …

Do you feel the echo of my heart’s despair?
Or does indifference cloak the air?
It matters not, for distance now weaves
its sway,
As I journey on,
far from yesterday’s bay …


Though you missed my art’s embrace,
Let its sigh lingers, finding their place …
Somewhere within you …
As you hold it close to your being in time to come
Let its essence, eternal, be freeing …
Let my art reside,
As a silent companion …
As a comforting guide ….
As a cherished part of me …


May it dwell Within you,
So I may live on forever through my art
With you …

I love my Jian Bird Creates journey … it’s a journey of creativity and joy and resilience of a lot more than you could ever think of …

Forget Me Not

Avenoir/ latin
(n.) the desire to see memories in advance or desire that memory could flow backward …

What It Is

It is madness
says reason
It is what it is
says love …

It is unhappiness
says calculation
It is nothing but pain
says fear
It has no future
says insight
It is what it is
says love …

It is ridiculous
says pride
It is foolish
says caution
It is impossible
says experience
It is what it is
says love …

What it is by Erich Fried

Love this poem and read it many times. Do you love such poems?

I love many of them …

First and foremost, allow me to share Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43, ‘How Do I Love Thee?’

It begins with the iconic lines:

‘How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways…’

These two lines alone contain volumes of meaning, and I find myself revisiting them often …

There’s another poem, I love, and that is ‘Hope’ by Emily Dickinson

‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all’ …

I may not be good at recitation, but I have a deep passion for reading and appreciating the intricate artistry of language. The way words are arranged to evoke emotions, convey wisdom, and capture the essence of life, love, and nature resonates deeply with me. It’s in these moments, amidst the twists and turns of expression, that I find myself enamored with the beauty of language and the emotions it encapsulates …

See, when you read ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost, won’t you just love this famous poem?

‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep’ …

Here’s another eloquent excerpt from the renowned poem ‘The Road Not Taken’ by Robert Frost:

‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.’

This poem resonates deeply with me and holds a special place in my heart, as I often find myself reflecting on its message of making pivotal choices that shape one’s journey.

I have a profound admiration for another poem, namely ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’ Its expression conjures the sense of companionship, as if the lover is spiritually present, ensuring one is not alone:

‘Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky’ …

Isn’t it beautiful?

I’m certain many of you appreciate these poems. There are numerous others, but I’d like to share just a few of my absolute favorites with you all, such as ‘Leisure’ by William Henry Davies:

‘What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare …
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.’

To selectively share excerpts from the poem is my means of conveying:

Please delve into the poems I’m presenting here—
read them when solitude surrounds you,
read them in the company of your beloved,
read them among friends,
read them with strangers,
read them in tranquility,
read them amidst chaos …
but above all, I hope you
read them in their entirety …

Read

Sharing one of my recent painting video from ‘Chaos’ series. Hope you may like it. Also I tried to read the poem ‘What It Is’. Hope you would like listening to it as well ….

And also please do share here about your favourite poems …..

Musings

Reflect on
‘Who are you going to be’
From
‘What are you going to do? ….

You know you want to do right things.
Then if you know who you are going to be, then
You’ll choose to be KIND in whatever you do.

It is said, ‘“If you have the choice between being right and being kind, choose being kind”, a quote taken from American philosopher, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer.

This quote makes me think about the impact of kindness on other people’s lives …

Consciously choose to be kind …

Just was getting ready to take a picture in front of Buddha Dordenma Statue but the click was done just like that! So an untimely mistake of a moment gone by – captured … but they say nothing is untimely … everything happens at its own pace and in its own time …

Love it ♥️

Hijr

Your thoughts are coming in waves …
Ceaselessly, constantly …
Crashing upon my mind’s shorelines;
Uncontrollably …

Hijr/ urdu
(n.) the feeling of having lost or been separated from a loved one ….

Meraki

My canvas of delight is
Dancing bright …
My passion is igniting
A colorful sight …
My soul is painting
A tranquil choir …
My emotion is healing
With peace and fire …

Meraki
(v.) to do something with soul, creativity or love; to leave a piece and essence of yourself in something you do …

In Poetry We Say …

In English we say,
I love to write …

In poetry we say,
Ink spills from the pen,
Words dance upon the page’s breath and
Each letters have taken my heartbeat
And thus poetry becomes my infinite playground …

How do you say in poetic verses about your love for writing?

I love to connect through words and I feel so happy when you write to me …. I love to read as well …. Now in poetry, how would you say that?

What If

What if it all works out?
What if you get that call?
What if today goes unexpectedly well?
What if you have what it takes?
What if you meet someone unexpectedly?
What if today you make the day best with what you have?
What if someone is praying for you?
What if you receive that one mail?
What if someone has special feelings for you?
What if someone tells you that?
What if you go on that trip with someone for a day or two?
What if the trip takes you to another state of mind?
What if you return with a complete different state of heart?
What if you do not know what’s next?
What if the best is yet to come?
What if great things are on the way?
What if you don’t search for any answer?
What if the answer is within you?

I love all the ‘What ifs’ …
What ifs’ give me hope …