1001 Ways to Embarrass Yourself While Avoiding Injuries

I'm so indescribably happy; it's as if someone has put me on the highest cloud and allowed me to glimpse upon humanity. Somehow, from up here, I can only feel tenderness for how frail and fragile we humans are, and ebullience at how perfect we are. How we can FEEL, and love and hurt and anger and sadden and then gladden our hearts again and again. I can feel the connection between my soul and whoever I am meant to meet, their happiness pumping vibrantly into my own bloodstream. How red and beautiful the union; and suddenly I am aware. Hyperaware of the world. I can almost see the light rays split into the spectrum, is he listening too? Can he hear my heart beating up-down-up-down like I can feel his? A breathtaking moment suspended in time and space, and all the anguish is gone. I love you, I whisper into the air, and I know the wind is carrying these soft words of love to his ears somewhere in the distance. The human heart has felt all this before, and still, every t...

Interestingly, she did not mind having an unfairly, unconventionally beautiful family. It made no difference to her, and in fact was beneficial though she was undoubtedly pretty but it was unlike the eccentric beauty of her brothers and sister. She was proud to announce to her friends, their presence because indeed for an ordinary person the mere presence of someone beautiful who is related has a positive beatific effect on that person, who possessed less extravagant beauty. She was certain that by pointing out her sister, Simran, she would too gain some of this benevolent halo-ic effect. Perhaps the beholder would see a similarity somewhere in there- the same curve of the lips, the same hollow of the necks, the tilt of her nose. It was now then established that she too was elevated. And wonderfully, with minimal effort.

It was a warm sunny Tuesday when my mother decided we should fly the Union Jack in public. And by public, she meant in front of our otherwise inconspicuous suburban house in Penang. Lucky was made to grab the rusty ladder we had in the backyard and climb it to fix the crisp, orange-y smelling flag above the house. Preparing for social stigma was something all the children in my family had learnt from a young age. Why even the dogs didn't bark when they saw people coming. Instead, they hid their faces in the failed apple garden. "Now, children," she declared imperiously, "we will do our fortnightly assembly on Friday. Mr and Mrs Mukherjee will be there, and so will their children. I expect you to be on your best behaviour." Mama stood on the gardening bench to make up for her lack of height, and squinted uncomfortably at us four children sitting on the verandah, for the Stupid Sun which was Not British At All was shining in her eyes. Papa nodded his head in a...