Doubts shall assail you like Poisoned arrows, serrated knives, And insidious, iniquitous whispers. Resist the temptation to submit! Fears shall constrain you like Flocks of malicious, screeching ravens Whirling about your head and heart. Banish them with a prayer! Sorrow shall drown you in salty Tears, snare you in loops of Razor-sharp, bitter memories. Cast hope across your soul! Here's truth: the Creator embraces Faults, grants the worthy love absolute.

Love is a fragrance that lasts long after the flower has wilted. It is a shield that protects even when it's tattered. Love enables and emboldens, despite doubts or fears. It bears burdens sans resistance, resilience it patiently rears. Love weakens the mighty, strengthens the meek. It never, ever treads lightly, grants colour to the bleak. Love is a lasting scent divine, a pure heart true it does define.

'Clear your mind.' What a strange concept. As if I have the ability to throw a switch and all my thoughts can be shut off. Like I should just turn a faucet and the continuous flow of distracting memories will dry up. Precious memories… like those of my unlettered Indian mother who emigrated to South Africa, and managed to raise seven children all on her own, with minimal help from my father. Relived moments of seeing her always busy and hardly ever resting – cooking dishes whose mouth-watering aromas continue to haunt me; frying off samosas and rotis that made the house smell like the best restaurant in the world. Or quickly baking a plain cake which she decorated with a jam spread topped with desiccated coconut. Painful memories of her beloved face saddened by some thoughtless thing I had said in anger; unbidden reminders of her tears flowing unhindered after receiving a few punches from my changed father; moments of grief at recalling her sitting up in bed, unable to sleep because of the unbearable pain brought on by her failing heart. Fearful memories of seeing her lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to a million contraptions, pipes going into her mouth, others snaking out from under the thin blanket covering her aging body after her triple heart bypass operation. Paralyzing thoughts that freeze me once again in that moment when I had visited her in hospital, crying silently at seeing her incapacitated, witnessing this woman who used to be such a tiny dynamo spinning with energy. My heart breaks anew. How can I ‘clear my head' of these, scatter the clutter like unwanted baggage? These thoughts are ingrained within my psyche; they have shaped my perception of life and people. These memories are the scaffolding that bolsters this house that is me. Pain is part of joy; gain is inseparable from loss. I turn on rainbow thoughts, rejoice in the colorful music of memory that spills over me like a deluge. Her generosity, kindness, forgiving nature, selfless attitude, patience, faith… these now remind me of the qualities that had defined her. A snatch of her mischievous laughter tickles my inner ear, brightens my soul like an exploding star. Memory speaks of her positive reaction to life, whispers of how even in her most grueling moments of pain she had not complained. My heart softens at remembering her unstinting love for all of us; constricts at the memory of her stern visage whenever any of us got into trouble. But most of all, my disorderly mind recalls two unforgettable things about my mother. How wonderfully beautiful she had looked whenever she had dressed up for an occasion. How fearlessly she had faced every uncertain day, filled with unabashed faith that all will be well. And it always was, and still is… For her spirit resides within me, within the atmosphere, and within the realm of dreams. Whenever life hurls nearly insurmountable challenges at me, her face swims into my consciousness. When I think I've reached the end of my fragile tether-hold on life, her courage and strength sustain me. If I feel overwhelmed by the world's sorrow, or become despondent because of rejections and life's myriad little disappointments, I envision her offering me the rolled up, hot, very first flaky, delicious roti she had fried. It was filled with sugar and the taste of this simple treat still serves as a healing balm. My mind may be cluttered, but this is one mess I'm not ashamed of. 'Clear your mind,' you say. Why should I do this, when clarity springs from the very disorder of my thoughts.

Be the gauze that wraps a hurt, Offer solace in times of sorrow. Let the needy your tears borrow, With empathy always others girt. Let the depressed with spirit spurt, Shoulder burdens on paths narrow. Sing for the voiceless as a sparrow, 'Gainst injustice, righteous energy exert. Fear not the consequences heavy, When the downtrodden you support. Faith shall counter malicious envy, Cause persecution to go athwart. Demons' threats are futile, empty, Your soul's mission never, ever abort!

If you can fill your heart with compassion for friend, foe and stranger alike; if you can out of your soul hatred strike and instead resolve kindness to fashion… If you can embrace with every fibre of your being empathy for each suffering living thing; if your soul can of love and tolerance sing and vow to only the good in all be seeing… If you can sincerely forgive and forget every slight and slur hurled like words of stone darts; if you succeed in mending broken hearts and offer solace to those running in fright… Then have you conquered your nature cynical, Raised your mere humanity to heaven's pinnacle.