I want to share my childhood with you. My childhood explained may prevent many of you to create sufferings in your life. Everyone does have a unique mindset. Mindset plays a major role in building life. The same way mindset of a country builds a nation, mindset of the Universe runs the Universe. This mind is extremely powerful, not when it plays with us, but when we play with it. Mind can easily control the elements of nature, if used properly. It is not a miracle at all to create rainfall or to create something out of nothing. But for an ordinary person mind is just a tool, which makes him or her able to adjust with others and everything. In fact mind helps us to survive. A healthy mind is always friendly but when it gets infected, it becomes harmful for self and for others too. It is very rare to find a mind with no complexity. Even a simplest mind on Earth may have multi-personalities. On the other hand a well developed mind may have thousands of independent but correlated entities, which are used to control the mass. Most people live in their individual mind without experiencing the real world, the self. Up to age of 2-3 years, every kid lives in very high level of consciousness with infinite mind. After that period their mind begins to shrink around worldly thoughts. And in a few years they get captivated in their own mind, which has already become too narrowed, rotating to and fro amid routine thoughts. And this process of narrowing of mind keeps going on. Such a mind only is considered a normal mind in our society. Mind can be developed consciously. By practice one can experience new dimensions of mind. However it may happen unconsciously too. But unlike consciously developed mind, an unconsciously developed mind can't be controlled by master of that mind. A man with such a mind is like a drunken driving a brake-less car. Such a mind behaves weirdly. Every mind has potential to grow positively and beautifully. Even worst kind of mind can be transformed into best one, if given proper nourishment. Recollecting diamonds of childhood will give best possible nourishment to your mind. In my childhood, I had a sharp but confused mindset. I was genius and fool too. I was Pious, honest, kind, devoted, undisciplined, irregular, flexible and fearful. Some lucky kids do have ability to build their lives by their own, while other kids are like soil pots. They depend on potter means outer forces. And I was not a lucky kid. But never happens anything wrong in this world. Everything is on way to its' ultimate goal. Don't complain that you have all kind of pebbles, stones, sands, dirt and dust. Also some diamonds are there, which you have lost in your childhood. You just need to find them. They will help you in every aspect of your life. Help yourself. Help your kids so that they could use their diamonds properly. One of those diamonds, I had in my childhood was WATCHFULNESS. I often remember that moment of my childhood. I was 4 years old. My grandmother had taken me to a pond to collect some lotus for worship. I always remember those moments. I was walking towards the pond by holding grandmother's fore-finger. I saw the greeneries and mysterious trees surrounding the pond. I saw the bright lotus in the water. I saw the silky waves on the pond surface. I saw my grandmother collecting some flowers. I took one flower in my hand and felt the special touch of it. I sat on the soft wet grass and moved my hand in the water of pond. I saw the changed pattern of the waves. You know, I always miss those moments in which I was a part of a live portrait. I desire to see such scenery again. In later years I saw many ponds, many lotuses. But I could never feel the same, what I had felt that time. The scenery of that small pond seems to belong from some different world. So beautiful, so charming, so young, so mysterious, so live… I desire to see such a pond again. But I know that I have lost the watchful eyes, which I had in my childhood. Without watchful eyes one can never see the real beauty. Without watchful eyes one can never feel the mysterious and heavenly element present in every atom of the existence. Everything in this existence is wonderful. You, your feelings, appearing and disappearing of thoughts in your mind, your senses, your family, your house, your locality, street dogs, dust, flowers, wind, your neighbours and strangers… You would find everything just wonderful, if you could get back the watchful eyes, you had in your childhood. Don't you feel? that you have become unavailable for everything, unavailable for yourself, unavailable for other, that you are living a predicted , a predetermined life. We have divided ourselves into many entities. If we want to recollect ourselves, we have to go back to our childhood when we were undivided. Second of those diamonds, I had in my childhood, was... Link to e-stores https://books2read.com/RecollectingDiamondsOfChildhood

"When you truly reflect on life, you come up with such creations. I like the way Adiela has weaved simple poetic stories out of the complex strings of life in which humans remain entangled. From social to soul exploration, all has been done and depicted neatly in this poetic beauty. As a poet, I especially relate to the poetry style that is made very understandable, yet churned out of an ocean's depth." - Ruchika Pahwa Available here: https://adielaakoo.wixsite.com/writer/shop

Aloof? Aloof you say? I'm so sorry if I made you feel that way. It's really not my intention, Though the reaction is of my own invention. You see, long ago I built a wall, A defence mechanism as I recall. So for me to draw close, is still very hard, After misplacing that important trust card. #AdielaAkoo Get Lost in a Quatrain here: https://adielaakoo.wixsite.com/writer/shop

Excited to announce that I have been invited to do a poetry reading at The Alan Paton Literary Festival, being hosted at Eden Lassie, in the beautiful Tala Valley 🙏🌹 Come and get Lost in a Quatrain with me on Saturday the 7th March 2020 from 15h00-15h30 I will be reading poetry from my book as well as some new, unpublished poems Love to see you there 💖 💖#AdielaAkoo

An oasis in the desert… A drop of water in the hot, silver-white sands in the Arabian desserts. That is what you were to me when we crossed our paths in the Sultanate, thousands of miles away from our homes. You were 13 years my junior when we met. I was married, and you were not. We took solace and comfort in each other's company since we felt alone and unhappy in the environment that we had to work to earn petro-dollars for our respective families at home. It was pure agape (Platonic love). We could have been otherwise, but weren't. We both knew and felt that what we had was as good as it could get, and would be ruined by anything “too intimate” or "more and further”. Love is something inexplicably, indescribably wonderful, bound intricately with life. There may be nothing strictly ordinary as such. At the same time, there never may be something unique as such in this whole world. It should be the strong desire to feel being loved and to experience love that is the last thing a person may find impossible to forego when all else has been lost or abandoned with ease. No matter what social status we enjoy, what station of life we are in, we need love. People tend to do many things for the sake of love which they would have never done under normal circumstances. We do not need lofty things in love. Sometimes things like strolling aimlessly hand in hand on a deserted street, whispering sweet nothings in a quiet beach on a moonlit night, a shoulder to lean on to at least for a moment without fear or suspicion in times of distress, to share ideas about life in a very matured chat, etc. are some of the things that we desire in love. I remember some verses in a song that goes something like this … I have not built sand castles about you, Nor do I entertain any misgivings about you. I will never lay claim to your life, And will not feel angry when and if you belong to someone else. This comes as a very advanced take on the type of love I speak of. The lyricist goes on to say that “don't you ever shed a single drop of tear because of me. Let us agree that we will be lovers that would never unite in life.” Love does not mean to imprison someone within limits and boundaries marked by the other, or anyone else for that matter, but something that transcends beyond that and something that has free reins. Another lyricist, comparing his lover to a star in the distant sky, says, “You be where you are and I will be where I am.” He means to say that you are a star in the distant sky and I am a person living on earth. But you stay where you are, as you are, and I will stay where I am, as I am. The common thing that is binding us together is the empty space between us. You cannot come down to earth from the sky. If that happens, may be I will lose you, and we will lose this moment. Hence you better stay where you are whereas I will stay where I am, watching you. All you have to do is stay put where you are. You don't have to keep saying that you love me. No need to keep reminding about it as if we will forget it. Sometimes, love exists where the words “I love you” are not uttered at all. The problem arises when we try to frame that love and come to terms with accepted social standards. In any bond, there is a point beyond which the bonding loses the tenacity. Hence, in a far-off country, in an unknown city and amongst unknown people, two ‘different' like-minded persons bereft of any kind of ‘love' would have many things to share, wouldn't they? Is it strange and wrong, then, for them to become so close but so far in love and find comfort in each other's warmth? If not for this bonding, the two-year work contract period would have been a hell on earth for both of us. I don't think that you will doubt for a moment that the story of a remarkably beautiful and much younger unmarried woman's brief and circumstantial friendship with a very middle aged and married man is far-fetched. It really happened to me, some 25 years ago. I still remember vividly the day I left her for home. That day, I realized how powerful the platonic love was. The rivulets of tears she shed on my shoulders soaked my shirt so hard that even the almost three-hour flight time back home wasn't enough to dry it completely. It was the day I realized how much tears a person can shed in one go. And that cemented my opinion on how powerful true love, though platonic, could be. I was a middle-aged man who recognized and did what was proper to my station in life with regard to a much younger, very attractive woman fate had put in my path. I never doubt that she would ever forget me too, and I always believe that she loved me as much as it would have been possible for her to do so. Although we have not seen each other after we parted ways, I still cherish that memory and still love her platonically.

I cradled the ticket in my hand as I watched the dust motes dance to the silence of the fading sunshine. The tracks shifted gently somewhere far off down the line in the crumbling remnants of what once was a strict European station. Swallowing my heart, I saw the café nearby housed patrons that came as quickly as they went; but hidden in my memories, a family once sat united. Even if remembering meant knowing what I could not have, I still held to it like a petal on a flower. But with the rustle of wind as a train tore onto the platform, the ticket slipped from my fingers as the memory faded beyond reach. Once again, the hole in my chest etched its way out, and hazy eyes followed the dying scream as the train departed. I fixed my shoelace; tying my life together in a flimsy bow. Finally, I sighed and stood unsheathing my sword, ready to face a world full of people. Me? I walked alone. The café held smells that made my nose twitch and being jump in excitement. The dessert display contained a wild array of textures – the shattering, airy crunch of meringue, and the softer ones of glazed jams and gleaming chocolates. Pastries with rolling bubbles and cooling air pockets steamed, causing a tsunami of desire to churn within my mouth. My hand reached for the lightweight (but not brittle) treats before my brain could catch up and shout furious instructions that lead me to a table isolated far off in the back. Not even the sun dared to shine as I sat in personal punishment, waiting for another train to arrive. The pennies clumsily scattered on the table were barely enough for a new ticket. I couldn't afford to eat. It felt as if rough hands had grabbed me and forced me back into a casket. Without a word, the lid slammed silencing my last hope, and my rumbling stomach served as a dying protest. Every shaky breath bought me one more moment, and the longer I fought, the less appealing the chocolate drizzled delicacies appealed. Even then, I held my breath to stifle the temptations caging me in. My lungs strained against the thin air; however, the tight darkness choked me as it seeped into my chest. The only option was to gasp like a dying man. It burned and thumped through my veins in a complete reversal of how breathing is supposed to work. Glassy eyes searched for a lifeboat to cling to, but nobody was coming. The waitress bustled, preparing a coffee for a woman in clothes too smart to be riding a train. A man sat hunched over a paper and pen, resembling a tart engorged with custard. And a boy just like me with dreary features, and a worn-down attitude slouched at a table picking at the ghost of his meal. The minute hand of a clock ticked its way full circle, and even with the continuous reminder of the fluidity of time, the world no longer spun. Like tremors, it began as a twitch in my nose, and soon the horrible monstrosity of nature was upon us. A sneeze so grand the table's napkins swirled into a hurricane, but still, not a soul turned. I blessed myself, but the room swallowed the noise, and I realised then that I hadn't heard my voice since the last blue moon. Instead, the café's radio murmured like T.V static. A blaze of light animated the brick that connected me to an alternate reality, and as if it could tell that cotton clogged my throat, it alerted me of a notification. The phone was a false hope, for no wires trailed from the base that led to the outside world. Once again, my shoulders caved in like a sandcastle overrun by waves. I was an addict for human contact, needing the sweet morphine to quell the craze pinching my brain. It hurt as if nails were trying to claw me apart. Exiting the store in a flicker of a moment, I stood by the tracks and gazed down the line. My pennies were replaced by the purchase of a new ticket, but this one was strangled between fingers, trapping buried memories within the crinkles. In my ears, a million tiny whispers echoed like a heartbeat, but home was an ocean away and as old as stone. I was close –a few beats off– but like muscle memory, I still knew my way back. The incoming train creaked and cringed in a sweltering welcome, and with stilted steps, I clambered aboard. A crooked man resembling a screw stamped my ticket, and my head fell back like a weighted anchor. The damp scent of mildew and rotting fabric swamped the atmosphere in a thick blanket, but just knowing that I was returning to a place that blazed brightly with laughter diluted the stench. I surrendered to the massive hulk of horsepower; to the chains and rigs that ran on the energy of a single piece of coal. No matter how often the cables would break, or the gears ceased, the machine learned to function, just as people learned to move on; learned to get by with every chip and mark. It's not quite right. There are broken pieces, missing pieces, and sharp edges that still draw blood. It's strange, unique, and filled with tragedy; but, it's the belief that the machine still functions despite itself.