

### Tomorrow, I Will Fly

### -

Collected essays and stories

by the inmates of Dubai Central Prison

Edited by Clare Mackintosh and Annabel Kantaria

Published by the Emirates Literature Foundation PO Box 24506 Dubai, UAE

Tel: 00971 4 355 9844

© Emirates Literature Foundation 2020

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright holders. In accordance with the International Copyright Act 1956 and the UAE Federal Copyright and Authorship Protection Law No. 7 of 2002, any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

ISBN: 978-9948-34-302-8

Approved by the National Media Council UAE: MC-03-01-9093344

Cover and book design by Haifa Malhas.

Thank you to Mr Tawhid Abdulla for his generosity in supporting

the publication of this book.

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the Emirates Literature Foundation and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please check out other publications from the Emirates Literature Foundation. Thank you for your support.

# Contents

From the Inside Out

Isobel Abulhoul

Foreword from Dubai Police

Major General Abdulla Al Marri

Hard Work Pays Off

Soha Oda Mohammed

 From the Inside Out: The Writers-in-Residence Project at Dubai Central Prison

Clare Mackintosh and Annabel Kantaria

From the Men's Central Prison

Why?

Clare Mackintosh

Tomorrow I will be a Superstar

DJ Kulcha

Seeking Hope

Xavier Thomas

Positivity and Hope for the Future

Durgadas Bhaiya

A Better Tomorrow

KSP

Tomorrow

Fred Flintstone

Expectations

Somnath Mukherjee

The Start of a Journey

Digby Wolfe

My Tomorrow

Mohammed

Is Tomorrow in our Hands?

Shrikant

Tomorrow Will Come

Empty Heads

The Day the Sultan Goes to Market

Rakesh Chandola

You are My Tomorrow

Charles Daeson

Pictures From the Inside Out

From the Women's Prison

Thoughts from the Inside

 Annabel Kantaria, Writer-in-Residence, Dubai Women's Prison

Disconnected Reality

Marina U.A.

The Opinions of a Cockroach

Eliazia Mohammad

This Is Me

N.M.C.

Tomorrow I'll Try On a New Dress

Dayana Nalmeiad

This Girl

Niki X. Argallon

Tomorrow – The Possible

Padmaja

July 24th

J.B.

Tomorrow I Will Make My Sister Proud

Bridget

Chasing My Dream

Aareev

Seat 32B

Reem A.

Tomorrow, We Are Outside

Sandra E. T.

Building a Better Tomorrow

T.S.A.

How Will I Greet My Superhuman Tomorrow?

Carme Rai

You and Me

Massiel D.C.

Tomorrow, I Will Fly

Cathy Lilian T.

#  From the Inside Out

##  Isobel Abulhoul

CEO and Trustee, Emirates Literature Foundation

It is easy for mainstream society to forget those who fall outside our daily interactions, but the Emirates Literature Foundation has been privileged to organise a Creative Writing Programme with inmates in Dubai Central Prison since 2018. The vision of our Foundation is to include all in our endeavours, with the belief that everyone deserves a second chance and a welcome back into society, plus the redemptive power of reading and writing.

None of this would have been possible without the support of the following people and organisations: the inspirational authors who have made monthly visits to give the workshops, Dubai Police for embracing and welcoming this initiative, the Board of Trustees and team members of the Emirates Literature Foundation, and the inmates who have relished the opportunities offered by the programme.

This collection of essays is the result of the From the Inside Out project, when Clare Mackintosh and Annabel Kantaria spent a week as writers-in-residence in Dubai Central Prison working with inmates to write their essays on 'Tomorrow'.

I am so grateful to Clare and Annabel for putting their own lives on hold to lead this project, to the officers at the men's and women's prisons in Dubai for their warm welcome and enthusiasm, and to Soha Oda from the Foundation team who has spearheaded the programme from its earliest inception.

I believe that this small book will make its way far and wide from Dubai and the UAE and inspire others to try something similar, and that it will give those in prisons around the world a chance to think about their tomorrows and spread hope in our world of today.

If you really ask me to pick one good patch of comfort in my entire prison term, I'd say it was your workshop.

A participant

#  Foreword from Dubai Police

##  Major General Abdulla Al Marri

Commander-in-chief, Dubai Police, UAE

_Tomorrow, I Will Fly_ is the culmination of many months of hard work and inspiring action from a diverse and dedicated team of people. From the first international author visiting Dubai Central Prison in 2018 to the publication of this book, the prison officers, authors, inmates and our partners at the Emirates Literature Foundation have collaborated to bring success in a programme that we believe is ground-breaking in the Arab world.

The visits from local and international authors to deliver workshops on writing and publishing have become one of the most highly anticipated events the inmates look forward to. The outcome of these engaging and thought-provoking sessions has been significant, with a very positive impact on their behaviour and self-development, while helping their goals for reintegration into society. The workshops have also opened doors to show those outside the work done by prison officers to support the inmates' rehabilitation.

We are very pleased to be part of the initiative, and work together with some great authors who have spent time with the inmates throughout the last two years and demonstrated their careful preparation, warmth, humour and generosity of spirit, in addition to collaborating with the Emirates Literature Foundation to establish the link between authors and the Correctional and Penal Institution.

We are proud of our officers from the training and education team at the Dubai Central Prison who have been enormously dedicated to the programme. Furthermore, we are extremely proud of the inmates who have taken part in the programme and shown their commitment and determination to change their own tomorrows.

Thanks a lot for everything, for taking time out of your busy schedule to come and awaken the writer in us, and help us polish and refine the skill. It was an amazing and priceless experience.

A participant

#  Hard Work Pays Off

##  Soha Oda Mohammed

Arabic Programme Manager, Emirates Literature Foundation

In 2018, the Emirates Literature Foundation launched the 'Author Visit' project in collaboration with Dubai Police, aimed at inmates at Penal and Correctional Institutions.

The objective was to enhance the inmates' education and awareness about creative writing, the publishing industry and their personal development by bringing an international author into the institution to share their personal experiences and challenges they have faced.

The success of the first visit to the Penal and Correctional Institution enabled the Foundation to expand the level of engagement from raising awareness to capacity building among inmates. With the support of Dubai Police, we could conduct regular training sessions devoted to helping inmates improve their creative writing and content development skills. These sessions were taught by the best of local and international authors, giving inmates a great opportunity to gain knowledge and skills from experts in their field. Since March 2018, the programme has expanded to include many inmates, both men and women, of all ages and from many different nationalities. This means the level of engagement and interest has increased steadily year on year since the programme was launched.

This non-profit humanitarian milestone could not be achievable without the support and encouragement from our partners, the authors and Dubai Police's Penal and Correctional Institutions. Thank you for your sincerity, honesty and good will in inspiring and influencing the inmates to take a confident step toward positive change. A special thanks to the inmates who were involved in this project for their passion and commitment to open their hearts to share their feelings with the world.

I am very much thankful to Clare for her patience and confidence in all of us. My utmost gratitude to the correction centre authorities and most humble regards to Officer Amer and Ms Soha, who made this project successful.

A participant

#  From the Inside Out: The Writers-in-Residence Project at Dubai Central Prison

##  Clare Mackintosh and Annabel Kantaria

For some time now, the Emirates Literature Foundation has collaborated with Dubai Central Prison and Dubai Police to organise visits from Dubai-based and international authors, to talk to inmates about books and the process of writing. Support in these areas can produce life-long skills, reducing the risk of re-offending, as well as providing inmates with ways of processing their own experiences and emotions.

After visiting the prison as part of this programme, we saw an opportunity to develop this initiative into something more tangible. We wanted not only to talk to the inmates, but to listen. We wanted to help them find their voices and tell their stories. Tomorrow, I Will Fly is the culmination of this desire: a project devised in conjunction with the Emirates Literature Foundation, and supported by Dubai Police and Dubai Central Prison. It is a year in the making, and a project of which we are extremely proud.

In November 2019 we spent a week in Dubai Central Prison, carrying out intense creative writing workshops with a group of male and female inmates. In line with the 2020 theme of the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature, we worked with our respective groups to establish their associations with the word 'tomorrow', focusing on such concepts as freedom, hope and possibility. We also considered what associations the word might have for people in different circumstances, thereby encouraging empathy and understanding for others; a crucial part of rehabilitation. Following each workshop, we were given access to other departments within the prison, free to talk to inmates and learn about their day-to-day life. You can read about our experiences in this anthology, at the beginning of the men's and women's sections.

The result of our week in prison is this book: a collection of essays and personal reflections, written entirely by the men and women in Dubai Central Prison. We have worked with the contributors to strengthen their story-telling, but their thoughts have not been censored or changed, and the words are their own.

Clare Mackintosh and Annabel Kantaria

February 2020

Clare Mackintosh spent twelve years in the British police force, including time on CID, in custody, and as a public order inspector. She is now a multi-award-winning author, and a Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller. Together, her books have been published in more than forty countries, with more than two million copies sold worldwide. She lives in the UK.

www.claremackintosh.com

Twitter:  @claremackint0sh

Annabel Kantaria was the winner of the inaugural Montegrappa Writing Prize at the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature in 2013. She currently has four novels published by HQ Stories in London, and a fifth currently in production. She lives in Dubai.

www.annabelkantaria.com

Twitter: @BellaKay

Instagram: @theannabelkantaria

Annabel Kantaria (L) and Clare Mackintosh

inside Dubai Central Prison

#  From the Men's Central Prison

#  Why?

##  Clare Mackintosh

Writer-in-Residence, Dubai Men's Prison

When I told people I wanted to spend a week in Dubai Central Prison, helping a group of inmates create a collection of written work, the first question they asked was, 'Why?' The glib answer is, 'Why not?' There are writers everywhere, why not in prison?

The real answer is more complicated.

There are many reasons why people end up in prison. Sometimes their actions are intended; sometimes they are the awful consequence of a poor decision, or difficult circumstances. Some feel remorse, others do not. For some, the bitterness of injustice is a constant presence. Whatever their journey, it ends the day they are sentenced, and a new chapter begins.

In 2006 my son died. It took many years before it ceased to be a struggle simply to get through the day, and years more before I addressed the deep-seated guilt that lay behind the circumstances of his death. My 2019 novel, _After the End_ , is a fictional account of a couple faced with an impossible choice, and their journey towards respective new beginnings. Writing it unlocked a host of emotions I hadn't previously allowed myself to feel, and slowly the sun began to shine again.

Prison inmates all experience grief. Loss of contact with their children, their partners, their friends. Loss of freedom, of rights, of self-respect. Loss of identity. You might consider that it is right and proper they lose these things – they have, after all, been convicted of crimes, many of which snatched far more away from their victims. But prison is not just a place of punishment, it is a place for rehabilitation. A place for inmates to consider the impact their actions have had on others.

During my police service I trained as a Restorative Justice facilitator, opening communication channels between victims and offenders. Key to a successful outcome is establishing empathy for another person, and much of the work in that area focuses on encouraging offenders to draw on often suppressed emotions. Empathy is key to my work as a writer, too – just one of the many surprising links between my former career and my current one. Without empathy I cannot create compelling characters, or move a reader to tears. To write, one has to feel.

I have always loved the poem by Robert Frost, 'The Road Not Taken', which takes the reader to a _yellow wood_ , where two paths diverge. The speaker must decide which path to take; he wishes he could travel both, could see where each lies. Inspired by this poem, in _After the End_ I explored two alternative outcomes, allowing myself the luxury of going where Frost's traveller could not. When I learned that the theme of 2020's Emirates Airline Festival of Literature was 'Tomorrow', it struck a chord with my own explorations of the future. I knew it was perfect for the project that had begun to take shape during my first visit to Dubai Central Prison in 2019. I envisaged an anthology filled with inmates' visions for the future – their 'tomorrows'; an anthology written straight from the heart of individuals we too often consider only as a collective. Inmates, prisoners, convicts, felons.

Writers.

All individual, all with stories to tell and plans for their futures.

That's why I wanted to spend a week in jail.

The second question people asked me was perhaps more predictable. 'Are you nervous?' And I was. Very nervous. Nervous that this project was too ambitious; that a week wasn't nearly long enough to encourage fledgling writers to tap into their emotions and produce a first draft. Nervous that my students wouldn't engage, wouldn't listen. Nervous that I'd say the wrong thing – to a student, to prison staff – and end up in trouble with the authorities. I was nervous about a lot of things, but that wasn't what they meant.

They meant, was I nervous about my personal safety?

Not for a second. The men in my workshops had made a commitment. They were keen to learn, grateful for the opportunity to take part in such a ground-breaking project, and – most importantly – they had things they wanted to say. Why would they jeopardise that by being aggressive?

The men were cautious at the start of the week, unsure of me, and of each other. We talked about 'tomorrow' – what it meant for us literally, and in a more abstract sense. We read poetry, including Jenny Joseph's brilliant 'Warning (When I am an old woman I shall wear purple...)' which we dissected amid much laughter. We inched towards a 'tomorrow' that included that red-letter day: their release from prison. For some it was mere months away, for others a decade or more, but for them all it would mark the end of the worst chapter of their lives.

With around ninety per cent of Dubai's prison population originating from foreign climes, the majority of inmates face deportation the day they leave prison. This carries with it a host of considerations that don't apply for Emirati prisoners, or for prisoners in many other countries. Imagine leaving the country in which you have made your home, started a business, built a support network of friends. What happens to your spouse, your children? As we talked, I realised how little I understood about these people's lives.

Learning to mind-map was a crucial part of our week together. This type of structured 'thought showering' is a useful way to generate ideas, and is an exercise that is simple to explain and to follow. Decisions in prison are mostly made for you, and this lack of freedom can atrophy the creative muscle. Together, we woke it up. We mapped elements relating to the day of release, drilling down until each thought sparked dozens more. In this way we explored the first phone call the men might make on the outside: where they'll be, how the phone will feel in their hand, who they'll call, what they'll say. We had created an environment of trust and respect, where no suggestion was foolish, and slowly the men began to share their feelings.

'I won't be able to say anything,' said one. 'I'll be too emotional.'

'I don't know who I'll call,' said another. 'I don't know who's still speaking to me.'

I left them, at the end of that first day, creating a mind map that would form the basis of their final essay, and I sat in my hotel room, too exhausted even to call home.

As any writer will tell you, the best aid to creativity is a plentiful supply of biscuits, and I was given permission to bring some the next day. There was a minor scuffle when one man took more than his fair share, but it was soon resolved and we got to work. Using magazine columns as examples, we discussed how to shape a piece of writing, based on the age-old 'beginning, middle and end' structure. We looked at how to 'hook' our readers, with a bold or intriguing opening sentence, and how to tie everything up neatly at the end. We were privileged to have a performance poet among our number, and it was a joy to hear him read both the examples and his own work.

We were slowly forming new relationships. Dubai Central Prison is made up of a number of separate blocks, divided into wards housing ten cells, with six beds in each. Inmates mix with their cell mates, and have time with others on their ward, but beyond that may only encounter other men in Education classes, or in the workshop, where beautiful wooden furniture is made and prepared for sale. It is a lot to expect of near-strangers, to open their souls in a classroom, and I am proud beyond measure of 'my' men.

On the third day, a student interrupted me as I was explaining how we can use all five senses to create an atmosphere that captures a reader's imagination. The interjection was abrupt, almost angry. 'I don't like this. All this _feeling_.'

The men were all attending my sessions voluntarily, and I was keen that each participant drew what they wanted from the project, so I rushed to reassure him that he could involve his emotions as much or as little as he wanted. Several of the students had already indicated they wanted to adopt a more academic approach to their writings on 'Tomorrow', and this man presumably wanted the same. But that wasn't the issue.

'I don't know how to handle it,' he went on. 'If I let myself _feel_ , I don't know what it will do to me.'

That same student made me cry the following day, when he wrote about rebuilding his relationship with his wife. _It isn't her anger I fear most_ , he read aloud, his voice cracking, mid-sentence, _but her tolerance_. Honest, and true. How soul-destroying to consider that loved ones might merely be enduring our presence, through some sense of duty.

There were other tears, during the week, both from me and from the students. There were problems too, including the frustrations of conflicting demands (work commitments, legal visits, court appearances) that resulted in missed lessons. But the men were diligent, working on their own in the afternoons and late into the night. I frequently apologised that they had to keep copying out their drafts, but – as they pointed out – the one thing they all had in vast quantities was time.

I knew I would find it hard to leave. I was proud of the written work I'd seen, but more than that, I was proud of the honesty and the sensitivity displayed by everyone in the group. I was proud of the in-jokes we'd sown on day one and harvested throughout the week, and of the gentle ribbing that bounced around the room. I brought in cake for our last session, and we toasted our achievements with sparkling water. My students contributed crisps and cheese sandwiches, and some remarkable hand-made truffles. For twenty minutes or so, as we ate and drank and chatted, we weren't inmates and visitor, or even students and teacher, but friends. Writers.

I'm grateful to Dubai prison authorities, not just for permitting the project to take place, but for their generosity during my stay. They patiently fulfilled my constant requests to see different parts of the prison, and answered the questions sparked by my time in the police, and by my visits to British prisons. All justice systems are a work in progress, and openness is an essential part of organisational learning.

I learned a great deal as writer-in-residence at Dubai Central Prison (not least, that a lesson on the use of cliché needs better preparation when English is not the first language of most of your students!) I learned that you don't need perfect grammar to create a perfect sentence. I learned that you can respect someone who has committed a terrible crime. And I learned that a writer is a writer, wherever they write.

My hope is that this book serves as inspiration to other prisoners around the world, and to anyone who finds themselves trapped in a today that feels bleak or threatening. There is always a tomorrow. The men whose writing appears in this anthology continue to serve their sentences, but their words are free, and they have found their way to you. Please listen to them.

Clare Mackintosh

A star performer woman just like a guiding star, who literally turned our lives upside down in four days, in few hours of each day. She is the one and only one responsible that I could express my feelings on paper.

A participant

Clare Mackintosh speaks to a student during a session on mindmapping

Male inmates, working on a creative writing exercise

#  Tomorrow I will be a Superstar

## DJ Kulcha

John Lennon's 'Imagine' was blaring out from the speakers, and it was loud. Yet the voices were louder – laughter here, some sort of argument between three middle-aged men and two ladies there; others whispering somewhere behind me, and – as is expected – a bright and beaming smile on the face of the guy behind the bar. As usual, the atmosphere was electric, filled with the rich scent of expensive perfumes, mixed with sweat, smoke, and underneath all that a mild smell of stale beer.

He was seated in the far corner of the bar, and even from where I was standing, a couple of metres from the door, I could hear his laughter above all the noise. Almost everyone seemed to know him. I could see different expressions on the faces of people who went to say hi, and exchange a few words with him. I decide to go sit next to him, order a drink and try to start up a conversation.

So here I am, seated right next to this guy, about to order from the ever-smiling bartender, when the stranger suddenly calls me by my name. 'Del,' he says. 'You look good. I guess Today has been good to you. I know why you chose to sit where you are sitting.'

Now I'm wondering: wait a minute, do I know him? His next words shock me.

'I am Tomorrow, and as a rule you get to ask me one – and only one – question. Now that you know who and what I am, what do you want to ask?'

I'm stunned for a moment, but I quickly recover from my shock and I say, 'Well, Tomorrow, you have met Today, and you've seen the impact it has had on me (thanks for the earlier compliment, by the way...). Now: do you have anything better to offer than Today?'

He looks me in the face with a smug look in his eyes and says, 'If you must know, I won't tell you. I'd rather you experience it for yourself. You'll be the better judge. But I'll tell you this, you can create— _Assp! Assp! Assp!_ '

I look at him, confused, wondering why he's suddenly speaking Arabic, and why he's calling for a headcount. Next thing I know, rough hands are shaking me, and I can still hear _Assp! Assp! Assp! Kuulo baara KUUULO BAARA!'_

I open my eyes.

Don't you hate it when you feel like you're about to learn something very important in a dream, only to be yanked from sleep at that very moment?

Bear in mind, I've been in the same place for almost five years (precisely four months shy of five years) and still counting. Being a DJ, and coming from a world where I was constantly on the move, raving almost every night (I always wished a couple of hours could be added to the twenty-four that already exist. How childish, right? But I simply couldn't get enough, and let's be honest – you've thought that at some point in your life, haven't you?). Performing for huge crowds, partying and entertaining as well as being entertained by the world around me; being stuck in one place, seeing the same faces, having the same conversations, eating the same food and listening to the same music over and over again for this long is a nightmare. At least some nights, when I sleep, I find myself in that bar where I recently met Tomorrow, and I get to knock down a few drinks... That counts for something. I've been engaged in several conversations with different people about 'tomorrow', and I find that almost everyone here is somewhat scared of tomorrow and what it holds for them. Almost all of them want to know what awaits them tomorrow – or 'the future', as you may refer to it – and with that comes the feeling of anxiety, uncertainty and fear. But as human as we are, I dare say we are hot-wired to hope, so beneath all that fear there is a certain amount of hope that everything will be fine, regardless of where we find ourselves or the circumstances surrounding us.

I have found a way to deal with all the negative emotions that come with thinking about tomorrow. It is a mental exercise. I create my own tomorrow. Come to think of it, I think _that_ was what Tomorrow was trying to tell me in my dream...

Tomorrow I will be a superstar. An award-winning DJ.

I can hear the crowd cheer their approval, others calling my name and yelling their congratulations. I feel the taps on my back as I get up to go claim the award for the best Afro Beat album of the year. I see the flashing lights from their smartphones, some taking photos, others taking videos (I'm sure it's to brag to their friends about how they were in the VIP section with the celebrities, because that's _definitely_ where I will be seated...) My cheek muscles hurt from this wide smile on my face, but hey – gotta look good for the cameras, what with Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter, and all those other picture apps around. My cheek muscles can take one for the team. At least my eyes are safely hidden behind my glasses (these paparazzi don't even care – what if I was epileptic? I could get a seizure from all the lights...)

So anyway, that's my tomorrow. Check out the album tour across African capitals like Lagos, Abuja, Nairobi, Johannesburg, and my very own Accra; the sold-out gigs in the O2 Arena in London, the performance in Club 40/40 in New York. And I haven't even started on about the amazing collaborations with African artistes such as Wizkid, Davido, Pato Ranking, who are all multiple award-winning artistes from Nigeria, and the sensational sweet-voiced Adina from Ghana, or African's fastest rapper and BET award-nominee Sarkodie. I may even do a track with Ed Sheeran, since he's cool with Fuse ODG from Ghana, who I'm very similar to; as well as drop an album with the very talented AJ Styles from Naija, and Janol Pablo from Cameroon...

Can you see how amazing my future looks?

Don't worry: you made a good career choice, don't start hating your job, now!

Truth is, though, the future hasn't always looked this exciting. A few years back, when I first got into my current situation, tomorrow looked dark and blurry. It was outright scary.

Being stuck in an endless cycle of 'wake up (or rather be ruddy woken up) from sleep – headcount – breakfast – then a couple of hours' free time – back to lunch – headcount – siesta – dinner – headcount – watch a bit of TV – then the rest of the evening for whatever activities I get sucked into' for fifty-six months... Tomorrow lost its appeal for me; it became a rinse-and-repeat process. I woke up with a 'same old crap, just another day' attitude, and the future looked like a horror movie I had no choice but to star in.

A couple of weeks ago I spoke to my eight-year-old son over the phone. The last time I saw him he was three years old. For a second I thought the phone was playing tricks with my hearing. It wasn't the usual childish but cute, 'Daddy, how are you?' any more, it was 'Daddy, when are you coming back? I miss you.' Such an innocent, yet grown-up question, and at those words my knees went weak and my legs gave out under me. I could feel my chest constricting and my words getting caught in my throat. Soon I realised I was wiping tears from my eyes.

But if I create my tomorrow by thinking it, by willing it into reality, there should be no sadness in it.

I can hear the relief in my partner's voice, when I make that phone call and tell her I'm coming home.

'Finally,' she'll say. She will swiftly switch into 'mummy mode', trying her best to hush my son, who at hearing the news will be all over the place, with squeals of joy and laughter, but I will still hear the laughter behind her commands.

I can imagine the heat on my back, and sweat forming in my armpits, right after I step off the plane at Kotoka International Airport. I'll be thinking some things never change – after all these years this African sun is still mean and unforgiving in its intensity. But trust me, it will be a much welcome sensation. It will mean I'm home.

The word Akwaaba, boldly written on the left-hand side of the wall, when entering the airport from the tarmac, will take on a much deeper meaning to me than the simple 'Welcome' it will mean for those around me, who might not even notice it. For me, it will feel like the motherland telling me in my native language of Twi, 'Welcome home, son.'

The heavy traffic. The shouts and calls from different street hawkers, weaving in and out of the slow-moving cars, carrying pans and baskets on their heads, displaying a variety of goods. Packaged meals, snacks, beverages, electronic gadgets and (you won't believe it) even puppies on the highway. The greenery on the sides of the road, the billboards, the landscape will all evoke in me a sense of nostalgia on my ride home. Not forgetting to mention the excessively loud music, blasting from the speakers of the cab I'm in, and the driver's pathetic attempt at singing along to Essy's 'Short Skirt', which is number one in the charts. Normally I'd be irritated, and ask him to tone it down a bit, but on that day it will account for the permanent smile that will be on my face.

And just before I ring my doorbell

I will take a moment to savour the smell

Of nature, happiness and love.

And not the Hell

Which is in the form of my cell.

When the door opens, in my partner's eyes I can tell

A confusion of emotions, yet in that which she will revel.

Then I will hear my son yell.

Joy in the atmosphere will make our three hearts swell

In the hugs we share, a magical bond shall be felt

As our three bodies merge and melt

Into one solid family gel.

Daddy is home. Tomorrow, no more headcounts,

But rather, a sweet familiar voice, as she calls my name: Del.

#  Seeking Hope

##  Xavier Thomas

I can never put right what I have done. The evil that I brought into the world will not go away, and cannot be corrected. Yet I have to find a way forward, even if I do not know how.

My guilt has ground into me that there can never be enough remorse to try to balance all the hurt and pain I have caused. It hits me in the early morning when I stare out through the heavy iron bars at Dubai's glowing dawn, the emerging red sun lighting up the fragile clouds with a delicate pink. Such a rare moment of beauty makes me gasp, until I am overthrown by the tears in my eyes as my guilt sneaks up on me and grabs my brain again. It drives all other thoughts out, and I go back to sit on my mattress.

I am all too aware that forgiveness for my sin is impossible. But acceptance of this is the first step to finding a way forward. I do not want to lie to myself, and I do not want to lie to others. Far too many people here talk of their 'accidents', and their 'mistakes', or blame their imprisonment on the vagaries of the law and its enforcement. A surprising number blame the influence of supernatural jinns (and have successfully argued so, in court) or 'an overwhelming mental storm'. But I need to be clear to myself (and therefore everyone else) that I did what I did. I hope this honesty will allow me to find the strength to carry responsibility for my actions while seeking out my new future. My search for acceptance of the facts started with accepting what was happening to me in jail. I had to learn to take what comes without getting angry, and to accept kindness and support without feeling demeaned.

Like when I first walked into the large ward of ten cells, carrying my mattress and a blanket. It was the first time in my life that I had ever been with sixty serious criminals, never mind in a largely unsupervised, self-governing community of them. I was nervous and frightened, unable to form a coherent thought. I stayed frozen by the door for twenty minutes until the prisoner foreman pointed to a cell, where I was allocated a space on the floor for my mattress. I sat on it and looked around, seeing a mass of mean-looking shaven heads, with everyone established in their routine. I felt a total outsider: in the wrong place, with the wrong languages, the wrong colour and wrong education.

Then one of my new companions reached under his metal bunk and offered me a plastic wash tub, so that I could keep my few possessions together. Someone else offered me a coffee. These acts of reaching out made a vast difference, and I was able to see the mass of faces as separate individuals, with their own hopes and fears, living in a place in which we had all been flung together. Later, I was able to repay him and keep the tub, and we are still friends.

When I leave jail, I hope I can carry that spirit of open humanity, as I find myself in what will be a very new world. I will find that years will have passed, people will have changed, and I will be different. It will take time to get to know them again, and some people will not want to know me at all. I will have to value those who reach out to me, and at the same time respect those who want to avoid me.

I will also have to learn about a mass of mundane but essential items of modern life. I doubt I will have a credit rating, so I don't know how I will be able to open a bank account. I don't know what a criminal record means in reality; I assume some jobs will be closed to me, and I am not sure if I will be able to travel. I don't know if I will have to have a mobile phone – some banks insist on using them to confirm payments. I don't know where my driving licence ended up – will I have to take my test again?

These are only the things I have thought of. What else is waiting to catch me out?

Obviously the technology I will be offered to use – or hold, or put in my body – will be vastly different. Maybe I will get a chip implanted in my arm to monitor my blood sugar and report back to a hospital. Perhaps my phone will have the ability to control a house or a car, and when connected to a pair of glasses could give a full data download on any building or car I pass...

What will make me different from others is that all these things will be normal to everyone around me, but I will be a complete innocent. I am sure that I will find endless such blocks springing up unexpectedly, so I will have to be ready for them and not disintegrate when yet another hurdle emerges. But the real change will be to return to the connected world, where I can hear from anyone who wants to talk to me, and I can get in touch with them in return. Prison life has no access at all to the internet, social media or email, so it will extraordinary to pick up a mobile and send a text – like a faded dream suddenly coming to life. It will be exhilarating to click on a group on Twitter or Facebook (or whatever platform is around by then) and join a conversation; watch my words circulating freely in a widening community, with people commenting and answering!

Receiving a letter will be a thrill. In jail, mail never arrives. It would make a vast difference just to know someone wanted to be in touch with me, and to relish what may be mundane details of their lives. Children going to college, vegetables growing in the garden, the arrival of a new car... These are the things that warm the heart, that in jail are replaced by silence.

The real gem will be to have a phone that rings. In jail I can only call out to five designated numbers, so I always talk to these few people when it suits me, not them. A phone that rings will allow anyone to call me when they are relaxed and want to chat.

In jail, no one assigns fault. No one blames anyone for their crime, whatever horror or failure it might have been, and whatever sentence was given. We are all in prison together and so we never have to face reality. It will be a huge change to leave the reassuring bubble of prison life, changing mere confinement for the complexities of normal life outside, where anyone can say anything. Once there, I will be forced to take responsibility for my actions as I meet people I have hurt, and others I have disgusted or shocked (maybe they will refuse to meet me) and hear what they think of me.

I do not know how I will cope, but I am sure that an important part of facing that barrage is to cling to the truth. In fact, I don't have much choice, but others with me inside tell me they have never told their friends and family they are in jail. They will go back after a decade to continue their bluff. Others speculate they will take a new name and build a new life.

I cannot see myself doing something like that, because my inner acceptance of guilt will be vital for my outer survival. I may smile again, and even laugh. Perhaps I will sing again. I will talk to people and share their lives, and they will take me as I seem. But I know they might check my reality at any time. It will be strange to be on my guard at all times.

Nonetheless, I will need to find a reason for hope. I have learned in prison that survival is mechanical, and can be done: day by day, week by week, from meal to meal, from day to night, from night to day. I have learned that I can go through the motions and be a good citizen, but that does not mean very much unless I find my inner purpose, the spring that provides the power to make me want to get up and face each new day with vigour and anticipation.

Family and friends are an important start to that sense of purpose. The years inside have proved my family to be far more vital than I could ever have realised outside, but I can't just bounce around the world being a brother, father, uncle or cousin. I will link up with old friends who have wanted to keep in touch, and I will be able to make new friends. I look forward to the pleasure of a chat over a cheese croissant and Americano coffee, and I will enjoy swapping ideas and savouring disagreements.

But in addition to friends and family, I will need to find something for myself. I want to be ambitious, but I don't think my ambition will be for money. It is clearly useful to have, of course (and the more the better, since coming inside caused a complete collapse), but I will not need to earn much. I have learned I can live with a mattress and a plastic tub. More importantly, I want to work so I can put something back. There is no way to put right what I have done, but maybe finding a way to help others can start to balance the scales. My old career will be closed to me, and while I might find work as a night watchman in an office block, or serve drinks in a bar, these jobs would only offer mere survival. They would bring in a useful (essential) income, but they could not be part of meeting my ambition or offer me the inner purpose I need.

I have always worked with people of different cultures and religions, and in an increasingly divided and shrill world, it is very important that those of us who trust in the essential goodness of all mankind reach out to each other and help build a more secure and trusting world.

One way to stop dangerous nationalism and suspicion is through better education, so maybe I can teach. Ignorance breeds fear and anger, so if I can help people talk to each other, I will be doing something of value. With so many millions of refugees in grim camps, and their children deprived of the security of homes or access to schools, I may be able to help somewhere.

And perhaps I can also find a purpose in writing. Words are powerful, and if I can fashion them to tell a story, I can use them to help. And if you, my reader, have got this far with this tale, I will take it as great encouragement. Thank you for listening.

#  Positivity and Hope for the Future

##  Durgadas Bhaiya

Bhagavad Gita 12.4

'Sarva Bhoot Hite Ratah' – 'welfare of all beings'

Yes, Future, the Tomorrow has to be like that!

With the above quote in my mind, let me share some of my thoughts with you. I often discuss my thoughts and ideas with Murli Mohan, my best friend since childhood. There is hardly anything which I miss to share with him, he fully understand me and so do I to him. Sometimes I think our relationship is eternal.

Once Murli told me, 'There was a time when our life was not there, and there will be a time again when our life will not be there. The eternal truth of continued time has our life events threaded through it like pearls.' Time is the only constant; all other things pass through a cyclical phase of ups and down. Time neither speed up nor slow down for anyone, whom so ever he may be. Therefore proper utilisation of time is the only requirement to shape the future – the Tomorrow.

Past, Present and Future are the three time dimensions, while the present is just a moment – much smaller than even the smallest measurable or conceivable fraction of second. It never waits for anyone, silently entering from the future, to be added to the past without interruption.

Past is memory, and future is expectations. The past is actual time passed through, and future is the expected time yet to come. Present time is the 'now' and the 'now' never waits for anyone. Summation or accumulation of our different works in all such 'nows' makes the future, the tomorrow.

One's present time – i.e. the very moment 'now' – is apparently dependent on the surroundings and the circumstances one is passing through, however a time warrior can overcome the shortcomings and the adverse situations. It's like a transition from seed to sprout, to plant, to tree...

Nothing can stop it, provided you nourish it with the required ingredients in the right proportion. Every new thing begins with the seed of an idea, and passes through its own way for manifestation in the world. There are no life's circumstances which are absolute negative or absolute positive: it's always the proportion of the two. The dominant negative circumstances also contain a proportion of its opposite, and so there is something good buried within every seemingly bad situation.

Life is not about surrendering to the negative circumstances that may have happened to you, it's about what you do with the opportunities hidden within. We have to extract it by perceiving it; for the perception alone makes the difference.

Dubai is a good example of what one can achieve by proper perception and constant efforts for sustainable growth. The growth of Dubai, the Land of Opportunities, is a result of well-planned effort. In earlier days, there was no electricity, no water pipe lines, no road, no airport, not even proper housing. People used to have wood, tin, and mud houses to suit the changing weather conditions (Summer/Winter); with such a socio-economic scenario one can early imagine the life's hardship during those days.

But current Dubai is a big WOW!

With only one building on Sheikh Zayed road in early 80s (The Business Centre – old name Sunlay Building) today, Dubai is a jungle of skyscrapers. The desert land of past, with hardly anything to offer to the world, is now attracting the whole of the world towards it.

The transition from desert land to colourful skyscrapers has happened by thoughtful analysis of the shortcoming, coupled with mobilisation of required means and ingredients. Had it not been the same, the fabulous growth would certainly not have happened. The UAE's forward-looking leadership is always open to step in and grab every opportunity. They are always in the forefront to adopt any new technology or opportunity; be it artificial intelligence (AI), atomisation, space, nuclear, or it be the polio vaccine beyond its own geographical boundaries; not just for their own benefit but for the benefit of the whole world.

A true cosmopolitan environment of Dubai is indeed very much appreciated. People of different nationalities live together with no feeling of racism or groupism. The brotherhood environment brings forth the collective effort to achieve the realistic goals set by visionary leadership.

I came to Dubai in year 2009, on the advice of my friend Murli. The last ten years gave me varieties of experience for my better tomorrow yet to come (one's better tomorrow is always yet to come!).

The growth has to be sustainable or else it ends in a vertical fall. To makes the growth sustainable, the size of commitments should synchronize with resource availability. Unrealistic approach, far beyond available ingredients, coupled with unfounded thoughts, are actually the extreme of dominant negativity, but people cannot see it because of painted positive buzz words. It doesn't work and ends with all round chaos.

Dubai has strategically taken care of all the constraints to reach where it is now, and the efforts are still continued. The burning desire of further growth and development is clearly visible in the leadership. Continued consistent growth requires the flexibility to adopt the changed socio-economic environment. Amazingly, Dubai is always flexible to adjust with the socio-economic growth to make it sustainable.

...And we should take a message from their growth trajectory. Neither lack nor failure should sway us away from our vision. One may have seemingly unrealistic ambition, for what is an ambition if it is easy to achieve? But the approach towards it shall always be realistic. Most failures happen due to the whimsical steps people take in order to achieve something overnight, which otherwise would require a bit more of the passing time.

A large number of people remain attached to their past failures, blaming them for everything, but without any actual effort to detach from it and move forward. Thus they ruin their own tomorrow. The time already passed away forever, with footprints in memory, is like something from which we may take lesson for the future, however continued attachment with past is of no use – except further damage to the future. From this large number of people, very few people are able to detach from their past. Fewer still are able to come up with a realistic vision by appropriate analysis of usability of available resources, with a plan to mobilise the required but readily unavailable resources.

As aforesaid past, present, and future are the three time dimensions and 'now' is less than the smallest conceivable duration of time. It is the actual time through which all our past has already passed, and the future too will have the similar journey across the time axis.

This smallest duration of time is the actual time in which we perform all our actions. It comes with everything like a modulated carrier wave, having all the content of positivity and negativity. It is down to us to tune this wave to the correct frequency.

The overall position of world is always in the state of ascended equilibrium towards growth and advancement. Thus why any individual, being part of the world, will have all negatives for him? It's nothing but our own mindset which is the primary requirement to move ahead by tuning into the right frequency.

Is it always the same? When I asked this to Murli, he said, 'the "now" has seeds of both negativity and positivity. It's for the individual to decide which seed he wants to grow.' I was a bit confused. Are individuals really always free to decide which course they want to take? Is there no such thing as fate or compulsion when one is compelled to such work which he doesn't want to?

'It all depends upon the goals that you set up for yourselves. The compulsion is actually the attachment to your own goals. If you don't want to remain in an environment then start re-thinking about your own goal. Maybe you need a change.'

Murli was very clear in his advice. Sitting in an 'aquariumatic' environment, I'm again confused. What went wrong? How long will I be here? Because of this compulsive and uncertain time duration, my 'nows' are simply getting added to the past, with nothing but only the breath count. There is nothing left for me to do to get out of the current situation, for whatever is needed now has to be done by others. It's a precarious situation for me.

Some of the life's phases are beyond normal human perception. I discovered this with Murli...

Cool and calm Murli said with a smiling face, 'Detach your mind from what's lacking from your current situation. Think about any best possible thing that you can do, even at this moment, and do it. When you start doing it, you will find that whatever access you have at the moment is enough to do what you should do. Don't forget that the most powerful instrument on the Earth – the human brain – is there with you as well. Why are you keeping it in mere contemplation of the past, and the on-going sufferings of the family? What purpose will it serve? It won't be of any help neither to you nor to them. Get yourself out of this anxiety whirlwind!'

Murli is very straightforward and coherent. He is not emotionless, but emotion controlled. He continued. 'Who knows for what purpose you have been placed here? Try to find its answer. You also don't know what's there for you in your tomorrow. There are reasons for everything. Beside the apparent reasons, there is always one superior reason...'

'What superior reason?' I interrupted.

Murli raised his arms upwards towards the sky and said, 'A superior reason that only He knows.'

Murli is aware that I find it hard to accept such philosophical thoughts unless they are linked to scientifically proven facts. Perhaps having that in mind, he said, 'There is one hidden aspect of Darwin's Theory of Evolution. The theory can also be interpreted to mean that the world is like a laboratory... God's own laboratory, where evolution is a gradual and continual process. His experiments are continuously going on. Only He knows how to evolve it, and what to extract from whom, at which time and for how long. Maybe God has a different plan for you. Worry not. When He is the planner, He will also be the torch bearer for you.'

I started this with a quote from Bhagavad Gita: 'Welfare of all beings.' So far, we have discussed the importance of 'now', the resources, the efforts, the detachments, and we also tried to briefly explore the concept of 'superior reason' in God's own laboratory.

But these are just the attributes and thoughts we need to develop in ourselves, to induce positivity in tomorrow. Side by side we also need a collective action for one of the biggest threats faced by mankind. This threat is gradually pushing us towards the dead end, where the very existence of life is under a question mark, yet it remains more or less neglected till now. What we need is wholehearted action for it.

I'm talking about poor waste disposal, which is the root cause of most of the threats for our tomorrow. The waste (solid, liquid, gas, radiation...) is the essential and unavoidable pollution causing products and by-products. They impact our physical and mental health, our mood, our thoughts; and when one's health, mood, thoughts and the like are sick and contaminated, then what hope of positivity can one have for the future?

Proper waste disposal is needed NOW. It's being done in the name of waste management, but what sort of waste disposal is this? Only a negligible proportion of the total waste actually goes back to nature in its original form; otherwise it is mere waste location shift. The waste remains piled up on land, in rivers and sea.

Almost all the governments of the modern world have a defence budget to tackle the threat of mankind, but how many nations have a budget to tackle the threat from waste?

The team of positivity and hope for the future is achievable with a collective effort towards the 'welfare of all beings.' We all have to be undeterred and relentless in our pursuit to achieve this. I am confident one day it will happen – my dreamed tomorrow.

My dream tomorrow should provide me:

1. A world free from all sort of environmental pollution. Clean air, clean water, and fertile soil with greenery all around.

2. Dense forest with wild life, mountain, clean rivers, clean ocean.

3. Healthy and educated children with sound moral values and discipline along with a sense of social responsibility.

4. Consistent technological advancement and its availability all across the spread of mankind. Everyone should reap the benefit of technology.

5. The continued exploration of infinite space.

6. A world free from all sorts of terrorism and violence. A wholehearted approach by the world leaders for world's peace.

7. Monetary valued energy from freely available energy. Gravity, air pressure, sunlight, magnetism, running water and the like are free gifts from nature. We are yet to develop an independent technology which will generate affordable monetary valued energy, without any battery back-up.

8. Last, but not the least, my eternal co-existence with Murli, my best friend. I want to give him a big hug!

And it's possible.

I believe!

#  A Better Tomorrow

## KSP

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars / It may be, in yon smoke concealed / Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers / And, but for you, possess the field.

'Say Not The Struggle Nought Availeth' by Arthur Hugh Clough

If you can keep your head when all about you / Are losing theirs and blaming it on you... / ... If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster / And treat those two impostors just the same... /... you'll be a Man, my son!

'If' by Rudyard Kipling

Today I am living in a prison, but learning about human relationships, behaviours and depth of friendship. Prison life has opened my eyes to how family, relatives and friends have reacted to my current situation. This also takes my thoughts to the trauma which my dear wife and our dear two daughters have experienced, going on bravely (with all the grit and determination to be successful) in their day to day life in society. The more I think of this, I pray to the Almighty to give them the mental and moral strength to overcome this situation and go on with life successfully.

Moreover, my sister, her husband, my nephew, my niece, her husband and her in-laws, as well as my cousin's sister and her husband, have been very supportive to my wife, daughters and me. Value family and true friends. Put them first, and be loyal.

Meanwhile, I am planning for the future after prison life, with the anticipation every day of the Arabic announcement – _'Afraj, afraj!'_ – followed by my name, meaning 'released from prison'.

Our conscience profoundly alters vision, discipline and passion, by introducing us to the world of relationships. I realise that a new philosophy, a new way of life, is not given for nothing. It has to be paid for dearly, and only acquired with patience and great effort. Here, it involves 'moral authority': the principled exercise of free choice, which almost always involves some form of sacrifice.

'He who would accomplish little, must sacrifice little. He who would accomplish much, must sacrifice much. He who would attain highly must sacrifice greatly.'

Now, the key question – as always – would be what is the best thing I can do today under these circumstances? Life seems to be a dreadful dream. A realistic approach has to be developed, as fear of failure is an important and integral part of life, keeping our minds alive. Maturity is the ability to live with things we cannot change. Bearing this in mind, we need to rationalise the issue and live with a tension-free mind. For without fear one risks descending into a state of intellectual stagnation.

We have only one option, and that is to control our minds so that we may regard fear as a positive, rather than a negative phenomenon. _What is the best thing I can do today, for a better tomorrow?_ As children, we are self-assured. We do not doubt our instincts. But as we grow, our fear grows too. We fret over the wrong decisions, fear taking a wrong step, obsess over alternatives and sometimes are so frozen that we make no choice at all.

We must learn to take decisions based on mindset, and be happy with the choices we make. After all, happiness is a choice. From this, we can see that nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood. If you have a clear vision of where you want to go tomorrow, everything else falls into place easier.

Remember that achieving the extraordinary is never a linear process. Life is about defining a vision of success, and getting there in your signature style. There are numerous people ready to offer insight at this point of time – at dawn, when the bright sun rises from the east, with the cool morning breeze and the honeybees and butterflies bustling on the pollen of the flowers, their petals and leaves moist with morning dew.

But we should always trust our gut feelings in making our decisions. Who knows what you want better than yourself? Sharing good times is far easier than sharing bad times, especially when vast sums of money are involved. I have learned the hard way that legal time is much different from business time.

Today, I am more relaxed and prepared for what business life throws my way. Today, planning for tomorrow, without going into any details of how and why I happen to be in prison, I would briefly state what I feel the human mindset has been in the past, present and will be in the future. Humans are programmed to succeed; the world does not like losers. The hardest thing we face in life is failing at something – especially something we created, something we have thrown ourselves into over thirty years. Something we loved doing. Rudyard Kipling knew this: 'Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken / And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools'.

Failing can shake the very foundations of your identity. Yes, I know now that if I do not fail at anything, I will not live a full life. If I do not fail, it will be because I am living cautiously, treading a path that is safe, dull, predictable. This is a path that avoids what this amazing world offers. This is not the nature of a creative, we must do what life has not prepared us for – not at school, not in any job: we must be prepared to fail. To fail is to learn, to expand and to grow. Tomorrow, we should never slacken in our efforts to build our new life. As we work through the process of failing and learning, we will develop into the human beings we were always meant to be.

In work, there is the chance to find yourself. It is not just an activity that generates funds or desire, it is the wandering gestation period, a time in which you earn your integrity, start making plans and get your act together. Work is where you confront the problems which you might otherwise be tempted to run away from. Work is how you settle your financial and emotional debts, so that your travels are not only an escape from real life, but a _discovery_ of real life.

While I am writing about today, and my vision for tomorrow, I have a flashback to my early life. My yesterday. The enjoyable, carefree and playful life I had as a child, growing up with my younger sister. During this time our grandparents (my dad's parents) were living with us. I still remember my grandfather yelling to the servants to get his walking stick out of my hands before I did any mischief with it. While this commotion was going on, my grandmother and my mother would be silently enjoying with hidden smiles on their faces. Also learning to ride the bicycle and swim with my dad. My mom used to be a silent spectator to all this, but firm when I was at mischief or was teasing my sister.

Our parents gave us the best of education possible in those days, and sent us to the best of schools and colleges. We regularly went during our school and college holidays on vacation with our dear parents. The value time our parents spent with us, encouraging us to move forward with a positive attitude saying the future – tomorrow – is wide open; be brave, positive and you can achieve your goals. At times when my friends and I were disappointed because the rain had stopped our cricket games, my parents would say 'after the thunderstorm there will be clear sky, bright sunshine, a rainbow. Wait.' Good advice for life. As Arthur Hugh Clough said: 'In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly. But westward, look, the land is bright.'

I had just qualified as a chartered accountant when the untimely death of my father broke the calm peaceful bliss in the lives we were leading. This meant I had to look after my mother and sister. Fortunately, my father had provided adequate resources in his lifetime. We could see through this difficult time. Thereafter, my sister finished her studies, got her professional qualifications, got married and settled down. At this point what comes to my mind is my dad in his hospital room, sitting and talking to me, asking for coffee for the two of us. While we were waiting for the coffee he told me, 'Son, a doctor can heal a person who is destined to live, and ease the pain of a person destined to die.' Before the coffee could be brought to the hospital room, he passed away to his heavenly abode. (Since that day I have not drunk coffee, as a mark of respect and remembrance for my dear dad.)

My dad had a lot of plans for the future for my family, but unfortunately he left this earthly abode.

Inside prison, I am cut off from the outside world. I miss the physical presence of my near and dear family, and to the world outside the prison I am as good as dead. But I am grateful to the Almighty, because I can still have a future and a better tomorrow when I leave prison.

I have suffered a number of health problems in recent years, including open heart surgery and failing eyesight. Such challenges make me remember the last words of my father: _a doctor can heal a person destined to live, and ease the pain of a person destined to die._ This gives me a feeling and strength that if I could come through such serious situations I am being given another opportunity to create a legacy for future generations, and achieve a pinnacle of success.

Hence, my tomorrow would comprise spending quality time with my family and loved ones. I plan to focus on redeveloping the business in which I excelled, and establish myself as a leader of leaders. Prison life has influenced my vision to devote more time in the future not just for me and my dear family, but through philanthropy; helping deserving people in prison to rehabilitate and live an honest and peaceful tomorrow. Apart from them, to aid children in orphanages to have a better tomorrow and have a family of their own. Finally, to sponsor old age homes, to give them financial and medical assistance.

Now having been through different situations in life, I would like to say that life has a way of challenging us and pushing us to the edge, when one's fears get the better of us, and we refuse to move either forward or upward. We believe we can no longer handle the uncertainty. We cling to the familiar, but the only constant in life is change. Then, like the eagle and the eaglet that learns to fly, we will have to trust in the larger scheme of life, and the universe, to believe that we have it in us to meet and overcome the problems of tomorrow.

#  Tomorrow

##  Fred Flintstone

Every decision we make creates a map that limits the routes we can take. The tomorrow we wish for ourselves is a fantasy because our history has already formed our tomorrows. Our imagination, left unchecked, will take us on a myriad of journeys, creating every conceivable scenario. Goals realised, happiness secured and adventures experienced. The barriers and limitations, that in reality prevent these fantasies ever being fulfilled, are removed and we enter the realm of dreams and desires.

That is the world I have inhabited for too long.

Life stopped many yesterdays ago, my tomorrows that followed looked, tasted and sounded the same. My human potential chained to a visionless beast, devouring human spirit until tomorrow excites me no more. In truth, you can remain incarcerated in the yesterday and seek retribution for the injustices that have destroyed friendships, reputations, and – most painfully

– your family. The very people who illuminated your life, and whose light was extinguished, to your eternal shame.

But liberty is of no value if you remain a prisoner in your mind.

My senses have been rendered redundant. Under the blue desert sky, not even its glowing eye of light – the only blemish on its vast canvas – can penetrate the greyness that hangs over the entire penal village. Despair leaks from every pore of the faceless, sterile buildings, and the human souls that inhabit them.

Tomorrows are meaningless and pointless.

The odour of discontent, malaise, desolation merge to fill the decaying minds, and envelops the oppressive atmosphere. Regrets of the past clash with the fear of what's yet to come. The stench of apathy, disinterest, fortified by cruelty that can be administered at will, the beast overseeing the carriage of lifeless humanity.

Devoid of visual stimulation, the blindness can only be combated through routine. Eyes wide open but witnessing nothing, going through the motions of an existence, zombie-like. Creativity, images of beauty and bursts of colour are sucked from the surroundings until the ugly landscape closes your eyes to the outside world.

The first world glass cannot disguise the Third World reality. No glitter or gold, polished words or false claims can restore one's sight.

There are only two types of texture: the roughness and decay of our own bodies and skin. Bodies that cannot stop time. And the tomorrows keep coming, despite our minds being set on pause. And the abrasive manner that greets every utterance where every hour holds the possibility of accusation, punishment and untruth, that cannot be challenged or defended, and the deathly silence of injustice becomes deafening.

Assaulted day and night, hearing becomes desensitised, a thousand sounds crashed together like storm waves on the sea shore. The human pain screams for recognition at the same time but no one is listening. It is incessant, tiring and never ending.

Silence is a panacea for the tomorrows.

Aware that all my senses and memories stopped the day my world came crashing down, I am also acutely aware they must be reawakened to allow me to experience tomorrows again. Igniting memories, making new ones, feeling like I belong to a world I left so long ago. The ultimate yearning to achieve happiness, success and fulfilment of basic human desires. No matter how we approach life we all have to navigate difficulties, failure and tragedy. Some are self-inflicted and others a result of actions of another. That is the nature of life.

But nothing prepared me for what happened to my world. The tomorrows ripped from under me. All I know is that I have to mentally prepare for the hardest battle I have yet to face; the judgement, rejections, failures and disconnect.

Looking forward in anticipation I can vaguely imagine my immediate tomorrows. However, the tomorrows in the distance are much more uncertain and ultimately frightening, shrouded in doubt and the unknown. As my liberty is restored and the journey home begins, I feel sure every detail, no matter how trivial or insignificant, will hold my attention and alert my senses. All the things I remember will have changed or even disappeared, replaced by unrecognisable reality; language, customs and values altered, possibly leaving me feeling alien in the land of my birth. The uncertainty sits heavily in the pit of my stomach, unable to be digested.

Approaching the airport, it occurs to me that they have rarely differed worldwide. While the comparison may appear far-fetched, there are parallels that exist between the building I just left and the one I entered to propel me home. Both sterile environments lack any warmth, the cacophony of noise culminating in a crescendo of languages and cultures, clashing with loudspeaker announcements, robotically delivered, urging the mass organised migration to their destination. The impersonal nature of the human interactions, all overseen by formidable security, reinforced by cameras, scrutinised and monitored by faceless officialdom.

But this tomorrow is my gateway to freedom.

Even though I have read newspapers voraciously over the years and absorbed world news, being a political animal that I inherited from my father, I am acutely aware nothing can prepare me for the technological changes that have taken place. As one of the frontiers, the airport will be my first encounter of my new world. Having navigated passport control, apprehensive and excited in equal measure, I enter the expanse of this transit. The first taste of freedom.

Free to choose where I sit.

Free to choose for how long.

Free to inhale the rich aroma of the coffee shop.

Free to taste a thirst-quenching beer or sample the tannin of a full-bodied red wine.

Free to explore the food court, enjoying a succulent burger or cheesy panini.

Free to browse the latest fashions, tailored suits, leather shoes, smart phones and mind-boggling gadgets.

Free to listen to my own choice of music, from Linkin Park to the Smiths, Led Zeppelin to Amy Winehouse.

Everything will be fresh, like a first kiss, an adventure, both exciting and daunting. The real awakening.

Then reality; how do I pay for all that I covet? No income for many years. Not since I was a young teenager would I have had no source of income. To deepen my mood further, cash seems to be scarce, almost extinct. I'm sure this will not be the first time I will feel like a dinosaur.

Mapped out in my mind and imagination are the first days back to the home of my youth. Settling into my small room, immaculate, organised; my mother's fingerprints of order at every turn. Furniture polished to a mirror shine, bedding crisply made to military standards; all waiting for me to turn upside down. To my mother's chagrin.

The small window of this room boasts a breath-taking vista overlooking the valley below, fields arranged in patchwork hues of green and harvest yellows. Stretching as far as one can see. Miles in the distance with only a small copse of trees breaking the horizon.

Having soaked up this simple panorama, I turn my focus to the immediate, my longing to witness, to relive my memories. Our village sits on the highest point of the county, and from its centre the lane spreads in all directions like a spider's web. And I am drawn to this web, for it leads to my Nirvana.

Preparing to embark on my journey, I dress in my new attire, complete with featherlight training shoes, still carrying the distinctive smell of newness.

Let this tomorrow begin every day.

As the sun sinks into the evening sky, this tomorrow is vivid in my mind, as I have travelled this many times before. Running down the driveway and into the bulb of the small cul-de-sac, breathing deeply, I can taste the sharp clean air as it enters my lungs, cleansing my body and mind. As I turn left, I climb the small incline that leads to the web of lanes, the entry point of many dreams. Passing landmarks I remember, although changed and aged, they remain. As I zigzag through a narrow pathway that links the village to the road, I know that my childhood memories will be revived through every stride I take. The road, accompanied by grassy verges and homes of all shapes and designs, is where as a boy I delivered newspapers in all weathers, leading to the small secluded woods where my first _Cider with Rosie_ encounters occurred. This stretch of asphalt leads to my personal image of paradise, where I discovered serenity, beauty and peace in my youth.

Passing cars increase their speed as they exit the village, emitting toxic fumes, catching in my throat, the chemical taste forcing me to swallow hard, and I need to regain my rhythmic breathing, so I count to twenty. Muscles start to tighten and my breathing is still heavy in my chest, I head towards a hamlet that sits some miles ahead, occasionally interrupted by a dwelling or farmstead. Having escaped the village and entered my utopia, I open up all my senses and drink in the sights, fragrances and sounds, feeling alive once again.

The sky, streaked with faint white trails of the planes that pass overhead, and wisps of cloud that look like cotton wool, fill my vision until a pungent smell alerts me to the pig farm in the near distance. A place explored as a boy with the farmer's children. The many animals, their unique noises and smells, the woods, the abandoned tractors and combine harvester were a child's funfair, playground and adventure in one magical place.

Leaving the farm and its natural scent behind, my footfall is the only sound that is prominent, as the asphalt appears to move like a conveyor belt beneath my feet. The view that greets me is like an artist's canvas; the countryside stretches out before me, colours bursting from hedgerows, leaves of iridescent greens overhang the lane. The trees that border the pathways littered with delicate flowers and velvet petals. The fields to my right and left are dotted with black and white bovine, munching their way across the land. The last outpost of village life approaches. The cricket club, with its manicured turf and spotless pavilion, is home to players decked out in their cricket whites, moving economically, delivering the red leather at pace, to be dispatched by the crack of the willow. The final sign of life is the country pub boasting wholesome foods and tempting ales.

That's for another tomorrow.

Turning, my pace quickens as I pass swings and slides in the beer garden, the painted steel worn smooth by nature's elements, glisten in the diminishing sunlight. Heading down the hill, startling the horses while they graze, every sinew tense and alert, preparing to gallop a retreat. The deeper I descend into the valley, the cooler it becomes as the canopy created by the trees' overhanging foliage blocks out the sunlight, leaving a leafy roof over the lane. Grey squirrels leap from branch to branch, foraging for their evening snack, completely oblivious to my presence. But the rabbits, perched on the banks of the valley, close to the safety of their burrows, stop nibbling, extend and rotate their ears and twitch nervously until the danger has passed.

Here, nothing changes, but everything changes as this little idyll moves through the seasons. Nature left unhindered, replaces, replenishes and restores to each seasonal glory and to me, it remains unparalleled. Reaching the bottom of the valley, I am now floating, having forgotten that I am running, the simple mechanic as natural as breathing. Inhaling deeply, the redolence of the rotting vegetation, the bark, damp on the trunks of the silver birch, sycamore and oaks that team up to create this masterpiece. Birds sit in the bough overhead, singing, preparing to roost, but their song is replaced by the sound of running water that pours down the lanes into the Boar, making streams during rainstorms. It is now a soft waterfall, constant but soothing, keeping life in the valley.

The small lake, known as the Boar, is the centre of this natural axis of lanes, where families of ducks waddle their way to the water's edge and water fowl blissfully forage undisturbed and oblivious of the chaos that is our world. Finally, as I turn, the lane will lead me up and out of the valley. Legs pumping harder, straining the muscles in my lower legs, lungs bursting as the exertion increases, I drive upwards out of the valley basin.

There it is.

A church, tiny, simple, not an architectural masterpiece, but set in this idyllic backdrop, it holds an aura. Weatherbeaten headstones of ancient parishioners, dating back hundreds of years, fill the gardens. On occasion I have found myself here, absorbing its peace and serenity.

The great vistas of the world await me again, to witness, explore and hopefully share with others. From the wild savannahs of Africa to the vast oceans of the Pacific, and all that's in-between, but my tomorrows will always start and finish in this beautiful piece of my homeland.

This is a tomorrow I am sure of.

The other tomorrows stir many more doubts and raise many more questions. Few threads of my previous life remain. The cowardly beast had devoured everything in its path, the truth inconvenient and the collateral damage of no interest, the lives affected irrelevant. All I am left with is empty tomorrows that I now must fill. Innocence has no meaning, not judged by your peers but by a system that is never wrong or accountable. Swallowing the guilt that will never leave me. The pain inflicted onto the ones I cherish the most; my elderly parents, my friends, my boy and his mother, my wife.

The shame that consumes every thought when they enter my mind is almost indescribable. How could I be responsible for delivering such excruciating pain and humiliation on the two most precious people in my life? Intentionally or not, I betrayed them, when I should have been protecting them.

The yesterdays and all the tomorrows to come will be haunted by the shame that I carry.

Lasting friendships have thankfully endured. Like a galleon on stormy seas, they roll with the ebbs and flows of life. My life and their own. One, a friend since my teenage years. We have shared capers that still generate side-splitting laughter. Throughout my adulthood he has remained steadfast, knowing and understanding, without judging, just listening and supporting. The other anchor to my rollercoaster ship has shared the last decade, guided, witnessed a calming of the storm, but encouraged and supported me to sail in a less turbulent sea, keeping my sanity intact at the same time. My tomorrows will always include them, no matter where we are in the world. Communicating, sharing stories and rendezvousing to resurrect old challenges: rackets, our weapons of choice.

How do you express the depth of sorrow and regret, empathy and sincerity to someone you have loved most of your adult life, despite letting them down in the most treacherous way?

This is the tomorrow I fear the most, for she deserved so much better from me.

The unspeakable pain I exposed her to, what she had to endure, and the toll that it took on her will always be my greatest shame. Innocent or guilty, right or wrong, is no longer relevant to this tragic human situation. There are no scales of justice here. I can judge myself, and I am guilty of failing the lady who gave me so much, who made it possible for me to succeed, but when the time came for me to repay the debt, I was absent. I failed her.

Ultimately, the tomorrow that absorbed my dreams, replaying memories too many to recount, and nightmares too frightening to revisit, is the tomorrow that included my boy. The image that remained imprinted in my mind during the early years was no longer who he was. My world stood still, cryogenic, awaiting rebirth. It was as if I was holding my breath and I will only breathe again when I can see his face, and then touch his skin, finally squeezing him so tight, afraid to let him go.

But let him go I must. For he is now a man. That metamorphosis, I missed. The personal sorrow I feel tunnels through my heart – a hurt that will never disappear. But it is his pain that penetrates the most. He was robbed of a father, of love, of guidance at the crossroads of his young life. Our inseparable bond, the travelling, the sharing, the friendship we enjoyed was unique. Perhaps why he felt so betrayed, and I so desolate.

I cannot repair the yesterdays, but the tomorrow we will hopefully share can in some way rebuild the bond that I truly believed was lifelong. That decision, however, no longer remains solely with me. He is a better man than me, his mother's love and diligence has ensured that, but I am in the hands of young man who now embarks on his own journey with a family of his own.

The tomorrows I wish for are for him. For I would sacrifice every ounce of my being, in the knowledge that he could enjoy lifelong happiness.

As for my personal tomorrows, beyond the people who have been so important in my past, I am open-minded. The map of my future has yet to be drawn. Influences and opportunities will present themselves. The cliché that 'no man is an island' is relevant to me. I have been surrounded by thousands, yet been despairingly lonely. I am no loner.

As I chart a new course, drawing a new map, I am acutely aware how parts of my yesterdays will have a bearing on the tomorrows, but many routes of my map have been erased. This presents opportunities for new friendships, challenges and experiences. These, I will confront with enthusiasm and energy, for if anything good has come from this life-changing, soul-destroying experience, it is that I can adapt, endure, and survive.

Only I know the truth. Guilt is universally understood, but by what means you are judged is never examined. The rule of law, or just the ruler? The judge alone, or the judge and jury? It remains hard to accept that the world will forever judge you, without justice ever being present.

To survive and rise again, I must make sure I am a better man.

#  Expectations

##  Somnath Mukherjee

I have big expectations for tomorrow. To be honest, it is more of a wish list. To start with, it concerns every living being including the environment of this earth beyond to some extent.

How about having this earth free of poverty, illiteracy, hunger, violence, wars, untimely deaths, pollution of any kind, stress and negativity? A world instead full of freedom, prosperity, abundance, joy, enjoyment, full of entertainment, positivity, health, mental and spiritual wellbeing worry free planet and civilization and eternal peace?

Let us find out what it takes to achieve this.

Community Living

All fields of life shall be achieved through community living. Community farming for agriculture, dairy, poultry, fruits, vegetables, spices, etc. based on geographic location, weather and soil condition shall be carried out. All lands available for farming in entire planet shall be bestowed on community for a period of a decade or two till we achieve prosperity.

Food habits shall comprise locally available ingredients as far as practicable to avoid mass transportation and expert. After catering for local requirements and maintaining optimum reserve of the excess, produce shall be exported to places where the same are in short supply. Spoiling of produce shall never be allowed to ensure this appropriate storage facilities (cold, freezer or normal temperature) & transportation arrangement shall be constructed or manufactured in appropriate density.

Cooking shall be done in community kitchens. Food shall be catered in community dining facilities. This way best utilization of resources for food & minimization of wastage of cooked food will be achieved. Food shall be provided free for all. Imagine a tomorrow with no deaths from malnutrition. A tomorrow where every living person shall have at least three square meals in a day, every day, unless otherwise on a fast for religious spiritual health reasons or choice. Malnutrition shall only be found in the pages of history books. Food should comprise of balance diet commensurate with age, profession & medical condition of all person concerned.

Tomorrow, clothing shall be provided free. No person should be without proper clothing except by choice. Appropriate attire, suitable to customs & weather, shall be made available to all. Number of sets of clothing shall be appropriate to age group & profession of the person concerned. Laundry shall be done under community cleaning.

In my tomorrow, shelter shall be provided to one & all no one should sleep under open sky except by choice. Appropriate shelter should be available to all according to geographic location & weather conditions. Shelter shall be constructed in an economic way, to ensure maximum land for forest, for land, cattle grazing, land required for industry, in structure, government facility, community living and landscape. Beautification can be provided. Shelter shall be appropriately fitted with furniture produced through community work.

Necessary labour for industrial production, providing necessary infrastructure to community living shall be arranged through community work. Manpower required for education, healthcare, food, clothes, shelter, governance etc. shall be pooled in from community man hours.

In my tomorrow, everyone enjoying the facilities of free food, clothing, shelter, education, healthcare, etc. shall pay back for the same in kind of labour of appropriate nature, according to his or her age location, individual ability, training, skills, or necessity of the locality. The entire population of the age group between 18‒60 years shall dedicate 40 hours per week with a minimum 2 weeks holiday from works, apart from other statutory leaves, in a year, depending upon geographic location, weather condition, and requirement of the particular area. Students over 18 shall be excluded from labour, assuming they are attending classes.

In my tomorrow, medical facilities from primary healthcare, management, of chronic elements, hospitalization facilities emergency & critical care shall be available within proximity of every dwelling. Emergency & ambulance facilities shall be made available on a 24/7 basis to one and all. Availability of appropriate medication including lifesaving drugs and anti-venoms (in snake bite prone areas) vaccines shall be ensured. Vaccination shall be universally administered, alternative medication shall be promoted & encourage. Health care is a service & selfless provision of it shall be achieved.

Tomorrow, education shall be universal. All kids & young people should attend school from the age 3 to 18 years of age on a compulsory basis. Beyond 18, education shall suit students' own personal capability & preference. It should range from vocational education on subjects ranging from farming, various required skills development & trade training required in the community, higher studies as required for the prosperity of mankind. In this day & age of satellite & internet connectivity, world class education facilities shall be catered from high class universities through TV, Computer, Satellite transmission etc. In this way, Oxford & Harvard Education shall be available to the students hailing from remotest villages in Africa, Amazon, Himalayas, or Siberia. Appropriate teacher training must be arranged for proper translation of the teaching mediums into local languages. Education to eradicate illiteracy irrespective of age should be derived through part time or night teachings within a definite time frame.

Tomorrow, the allocation of jobs & responsibility to community members shall be according to the calibre of the individuals. We should ensure availability of required skilled workforce through appropriate proportion in the education system. In all scenario we should avoid overqualified persons working in lesser jobs.

All kind of sports facilities, commensurate with the local preference, shall be made available.

Tomorrow, migration to urban areas should be arrested by creating advocate infrastructure in rural areas. We do not want to witness another capsizing of boat full of migrants in Mediterranean Sea or unfortunate sounds freezing in refrigerated containers. Once we succeed in achieving above goals we will definitely see a reverse migration happening.

Governance

Uniform governance across the globe shall be achieved. All countries shall be brought under a federal government which will control entire earth. Country government shall enforce universal law, peacekeeping, ensuring free speech, expression, freedom, etc. However ammunitions and lethal weapons of all kind across the planet shall be confiscated and kept for safety and security in general. All kinds of addiction shall be eradicated through implementation of positive wellbeing.

Tomorrow, our army, navy and air force shall be used only for peacekeeping, supplementing paramilitary & police force. All violence, battles, wars, shall be stopped immediately, and a reserve for disaster management shall be created from army, navy and air force, and deployed across the planet, based on previous incidents of recurrent natural calamities. Nuclear armament and missiles of all kind shall be abolished. Defence spending on earth shall be brought down to zero.

Tomorrow, free trade across globe shall be ensured. Production of required items commensurate with demand shall be appropriately produced to ensure no disparity in demands & supply. Currency in its present form shall be abolished. Digital currency shall be uniformly owned & spent biometrically. Re-distribution of wealth shall be properly done. A barter system shall be universally introduced based on the cost of input labour only, to ensure proper distribution of wealth. Prevalent gaps in the income between various trades of workers shall be brought back to minimum to achieve proper re-distribution of wealth. Proper safeguards shall be in place to ensure no pilfering. All natural resources shall be considered to be owned by every living person uniformly, jointly, this will ensure equal distribution of wealth. An appropriate pool of resources will be created and kept in reserve for the part of population who are below or above earning age or incapable of delivering labour for valid reasons.

A proper performance evaluation system shall in place for everyone providing labour in various community centers or government or any production facility. An appropriate reward and punishment system shall be enforced and maintained to encourage excellence in performance. An array of R&R facilities are to be maintained across the globe to incentivise the right performance and excellence in any field of life especially to experts and entrepreneurs.

Environment

Tomorrow, farming shall be organic, without expectation. Green concept shall be the backbone of every field of life including industrial productions, transportation etc. Pollution in every aspect shall be minimized as far as practicable. Target zero for pollution shall be achieved on a time bound, progressive, manner. Power generation shall be totally green.

Assessments of earth's atmosphere and the environment shall be done to the point in past, to ascertain the parameters in a century or two back. In the other words, one of the parameters of climate change (carbon dioxide content in air before industrialization, let us say by 1700AD) shall be ascertained. Our goals as far as 'CO2' content in atmosphere is concerned is to get the same back to 1700AD level. Similarly, all other parameters like greenhouse gases, micro particles, industrial and household effluents in natural water bodies, universal pollution of plastics of various creed size, shape, reduction in coral reef, deforestation etc. shall be maintained, and goals to reverse the parameters to appropriate date (like status at 1700AD) shall be set and concerted efforts to achieve the same is maintained until targets are reached.

Tomorrow, we shall restore polar glaciers to pre global warming levels.This is very important for the survival of coastal areas around the world. Recent flooding in Venice should be enough of an eye opener for us to realise that things have to change, if we want to enjoy a tomorrow.

Space shall be debris free. Immediate space beyond earth's atmosphere shall be cleaned of all debris. All non-functioning or redundant satellites shall be brought back from immediate space beyond earth's atmosphere. This might appear a far-fetched idea, but in time to come debris in space will become similar to ocean pollution.

Wellbeing

'Life is a celebration'. Tomorrow, this theme shall be implemented across the planet. To achieve this, the following are important.

Fitness shall be way of life. Every person, irrespective of age & gender, shall practise a regime of physical fitness programme every day for at least an hour. The intensity of this training shall be appropriate to their physical ability & profession. Unless otherwise incapable, due to disability or ailment, this regime of fitness program shall be mandatory for all.

The universal law of Karma, according to various religious doctrine, shall be depicted through video games, to have an indelible imprint in children's memory and psyche. This, in appropriate forms, shall be taught from elementary school in order to boost the morality of the kids who will be adults of the future. All videos, games propagating violence shall be banned. All psychedelic drugs and mind altering substances shall be restricted under strict spiritual guidance only.

Mental wellbeing shall be ensured through various activities like sports of various kind, appropriate to age, gender, weather conditions & local preference: reading books, arranging and participating in likeminded social gatherings, travel, adventure, entertainment, through practise of art cultures of preferred kind, breathing, exercise, meditation, yoga etc. All kinds of positivity shall be inculcated. This will alleviate addiction of all kind.

Tomorrow, we will see the restoration of folk culture, costume, handicrafts and attire. Positive customs shall be promoted and negatives shall be abolished. Fair competition shall be promoted.

Tolerance to all religions, races and colour should be way of life. Freedom to follow and practise any religion and positive customs & culture shall be ensured. Spirituality to achieve enlightenment (self-realisation & God realisation) shall be made accessible & promoted gloriously through appropriate religious doctrines.

We shall make this planet fit for purpose for the children of tomorrow. To achieve these goals we all need to work together & cooperate selflessly for a decade or two in a concerted manner. This is a message to one and all, especially to world leaders and leaders in every field and profession. I hope they are listening. I expect them to create futures, instead of making peace with their mistakes to fade away into history.

My wish list for tomorrow may sound like a dream, but we deserved it yesterday! Today is the foundation of Tomorrow, and the time to start is now.

#  The Start of a Journey

##  Digby Wolfe

I see my wife. I'm scared, but I try not to show it.

I'm not scared of our first meeting. That will be fine. The emotion will be mostly one sided, but... I don't know.

It's just a feeling.

There is so much I don't know.

She will hug and kiss me, I hope. She will, and I will cry. I'm fearful of asking questions and stepping over the mark. That first small disagreement, the frustration of pent-up emotions. The one-sided argument. Or arguments.

Picture yourself in my new world. I have lost our possessions, our house, my business ‒ they are all gone. The retirement home I designed and help erect, is no more, disappeared into the sea scape, from which it had risen;

now buried in the darkness of the mind.

My mind is full of faded memories. Friends, relatives (many deceased) and more gone. I would never have thought it would happen, especially this way.

It does. It did. I've been away.

Even my ID, my bank accounts... I'm now fully relying on my wife's generosity. I love my wife and want to make up somehow, make up for the pain, the suffering, the embarrassment, the humiliation. I know that's an almost impossible task. _You're not young any more_ , I hear over and over in my head. I wish it would shut up. She won't be judgmental, or say anything for that matter. I wish she would.

It's always been my job to make things work. I will do my best. It's a horrible cliché, but true. I need help but I doubt we will get it. Also, I'm expecting bad vibes, hostilities (God, I hope not, but...) from one or two relatives. Maybe others. I hope I don't crumble. Not as strong as I used to be. If they will listen, I will talk. We'll see what eventuates.

We – my wife and me – are in new territory.

I'm a complex individual, thrived on challenges, new things. A holiday B&B, in the middle of nowhere for example, but this is not a challenge. To me this is not real. Not yet. I hope, dearly hope, I can cope. There is a good chance I won't.

I've been told to sit and accept things, relax, settle for far less than we had. I could twiddle my thumbs and take the knocks or behave badly and mope, but that is not my style.

She's accepted that I can't change. I'm sure she's hurting, but she rarely shows it. She's also accepted getting old, better than I have, and I will accept things as they are.

It hurts.

I rarely accept the status quo. Is that so wrong?

There's going to be a lot of silent crying. All by me. She used to cry; mostly over silly love stories. Not any more. I'm the drama queen, the one not grown up. And I'm getting worse, the older I get.

I'm also fearful when my faculties are such that I lose the ability to carry on independently. It happens to all of us, those allowed to grow old. It's a privilege, and I really don't mind. It is to be enjoyed, as much as when you were 21 or 40. Crinks and wrinkles, glasses and aches are fine. Health issues, I'm not so sure.

I'm fiercely independent.

I can't describe the rental house she's in, nor the area, nor the town. I've never seen it. I've been the one to make the most decisions. I have always felt that unfair, but that was the way it has been. A family member is now relied on for guidance. That scares me terribly, in that it's been a while. I feel his antagonism and it makes me tremble from here, from so far away. There's been no communication. What can I say?

Things I don't want to.

What do I do? God knows. I don't.

What I desire and what I believe will make life easier, and happier will require working at, but it may not be seen as right or practical, or cohesive, or wanted by anyone except me. Tomorrow I am there, by their graces so...

I'm ashamed, you see. And apprehensive. So much so, that I am prepared to walk away if they say. It will tear me apart, but I will accept their decision.

Hopefully it won't happen.

I feel like crying again. Sorry.

I am – I was – a business person, hands on, a man of aspirations and goals. Still am. That's one of the problems. I'm not so young any more. I ran shops and other enterprises, with a modicum of success, but there comes a point when you can't do that as well any more.

I would like to try, in some lesser degree. No more building, no more 10 to 12 shop staff. I've also blown our cash, lost huge amounts but also made a bit. It balanced out over the years.

Money. Yes, that's a problem. Not as big as you think. In the past, I've never needed to look at every penny, even when money was scarce.

I'm also a dreamer – the best and worst of combinations. It was fine till now.

That's not quite true. About the fine bit. I've had issues.

Some would say, begging forgiveness when nothing will be resolved is a waste of time, but I want to and she deserves that at least. I want her to express feelings and thoughts no matter what. To know her deeply hidden desires, so that I can at least try to match and try to be the best I can.

Be fully open, find succour in each other, hand in hand.

I've never let her down like this.

But I already know she's not one for asking or telling or complaining. Maybe she will, I'm only surmising. Don't get me wrong, we love each other deeply. In old age you just grow used to accepting. Two people living together. We have had a good life, nice houses, cars, never wanted. A moderate lifestyle, but a good one.

We are simple folk with simple wants, still hold hands occasionally when walking. To me there is nothing more affecting than the silence, the instant before dawn. The beauty in morning walks just before there appears at the horizon, that sliver of light, that blaze of glory. Walking in light rain, that refreshing tingle on the face and hand, then a cry from something invisible. Wings of a bird.

A living stirring, stretching, yawning, scurrying. The taking for granted, the miracle that nature has provided. At this moment I feel at peace with the soul of the world.

I have always held the door, carried groceries, done the driving, taken her shopping, helped wash the clothes. This is nothing special, just what we have always done. We are both relatively healthy. My wife has inherited traits. Alzheimer's (only short term), diabetes, blood pressure, macular degeneration. These aside, she's still active, a lovely lady to look at. Good figure. Not too many you can say that of at 70 years of age.

Mine is only a couple of bouts of cancer, quickly fixed. The on-off depression since I was forty is a pain in the backside. I've kept it secret from most. Even my wife for a while.

Women know these things anyhow.

It's OK, falling apart in old age, as long as we can comfort each other. That's the best of outcomes for tomorrow.

I don't want to become pessimistic.

As much as I would love to say, 'tomorrow everything will turn out rosy', I feel I have run my course. One last shot, maybe. All I can say is 'I'm sorry, love', take her to the coffee shop for her favourite Chai Latte, like old times. Walk hand in hand. If she will let me. A mixture of hollowness from deep within, combined with bravado, to open up, filling the emotions and mind. It's the start of a journey.

No.

This is too hard to contemplate.

I fear indifference. Tolerance, instead of love. I fear that more than being hated.

Will things be rosy? Unlikely. It will sometimes be up, sometimes down.

Will I become bitter? No.

Will she be happy I'm home? Yes.

I can only hope grace will allow a small redemption

before the light fades and dies.

I have only one great desire left in my bones.

My head is failing. My body seeks an area of rest

to decline with haste.

I wish, I pray, I beg the Lord, to allow time

to be with, to find succour, to embrace our ineptitude.

Me with my lovely wife

who somehow managed throughout

to call this man 'Husband'.

Tomorrow this will all be just a bad memory.

Love you.

Sketches by Digby Wolfe

#  My Tomorrow

## Mohammed

When is 'tomorrow' for you? For me, it's within my reach if I want it, yet out of my hands if I don't want to do anything about it.

I am in an institute where I have been stripped of my former self, freedom, and identity. Now I'm just a number, only known by my name to the other inmates. Prior to this I was a well-decorated Sergeant in the Army, very patriotic and very passionate about the country. I loved life, I was open minded, yet conservative on many issues.

My 'tomorrow' is all about fresh starts, doing better, making wiser choices and acting on what I have learned from my incarceration. I have let down so many people, not just myself. Sure it will take time to fix things, but that's going to be the fruit of my labour. Understanding and recognising your mistake will always make you prioritise, so I have lot of time to look back and reflect. Only then can I show compassion.

Tomorrow is always there you just have to know what to do with it when it arrives.

There comes a fear with it too, all the questions, your social status, the guilt and blame, but as long as you keep moving forward you will be able to control your demons. I long for my tomorrow, I long for the family that I want to start, the feeling of being wanted by someone. I need to take back my life and straighten it out.

In my dreams, I pace up and down the wing, my breath gnarly from nerves and the constant cigarette breaks. I wait, my senses are heightened, my blood pulsating, mind agitated yet calm. I understand what's going to happen. I have no fear, not yet anyway, because I need to get this out of the way. The PA sounds with its tri-tone alert, everyone around us is quiet. The TV turned down, the other inmates all have their ears pricked up, listening for their names or of people they know who are being released...

Then I hear it clear as HD vision, 'Mo breakfast. Wake up, Mo, wake up it's breakfast time.'

I wake to the sound of my roommate calling me for breakfast. I mutter to myself, 'it's like Ground Hog day all over again.' I hate having dreams in this place. They fill me with false hope for a while, then when I snap back to reality, it takes its toll on me. I don't know how many times I have dreamed of my freedom. One day my dream will become a reality.

When it all started, I was so dazed and confused, not knowing what happened, but all I would feel was guilt – not for just the people I let down, but for myself too. I destroyed my bright future for someone else's gain. I abandoned my girlfriend's advice for my own stubbornness. My girlfriend, the only one to try and steer me to chase my goals to ensure our future. For that I am always grateful. When I made my first call to her I felt small and lifeless. Pathetic. She gave me a lecture. I could feel the viciousness in her venomous voice: her message was clear as day.

I messed up in a big way. Calling my sister was equally gruelling, yet I had to swallow my pride, because I had no voice in the matter. My head swelled with regrets, not just to my family but to my second family – the army. They helped raise me and watched me grow, yet I failed them.

An inmate once advised me: _your time here is not the end, but the beginning_. Regrets are a whirlpool of emotions laced with thoughts to make you feel remorse, and I had a whole bag of them.

My head was filled with so many 'ifs', I was tired of listening to myself. I see so many business ideas and advancements happy on TV, my mind burns with fury and I think I could have done that or been part of something like that. But I fear not, because I will leave here and start something great and prove to many that doubted me that I'm not a lost cause.

My main regret was not being able to see my mistake before it happened.

Being in the army taught us how to be sharp, cautious, and always pay attention to detail. Yet my senses and training failed me. I had advice up to my eyeballs, so I thought I had the liberty of choosing which one to take. Now I'm sitting here writing about it instead of putting it to effect, but still grateful that I had enough people in my life that cared about me.

The effects of my ignorance are great, my life course has changed. I have gained a drive strong as white water rapids. I have challenged my discipline (again) by memorising the Quran, and perfected other traits such as patience, wisdom, and understanding. I have become stronger mentally, but lost it physically due to lack of exercise. I once held a position of authority, and respected others who did the same. My views have changed.

Starting afresh is what I long for the most; the cleansing feeling you get when you are under a cold shower, with the water washing away layers of past until you are in your purest form. Starting again – just the thought of it – is not like riding a bike again, but more like trying to eat with your left hand if you're right handed. It's hard, but it's possible.

The questions that you'll face may dampen your spirit but I have challenged myself enough to be able to deal with it. I have revised my goals enough, and that – mixed with my stubbornness – should keep focus on them. I think understanding your goals and altering them shows your understanding of your life, but execution is key, otherwise it's just food for thought and you haven't learnt anything.

I need financial stability in my 'tomorrow' to ensure security and reduce the risk of bad decisions. Starting a business was one of the ideas I had prior to jail, so I would like to follow it up, in order to 1) fulfil my original plan, and 2) distance myself from the path I took before. As I stated before: focusing on your goals is important, and the execution should be done with clarity so you have the ability to see all outcomes.

I need to focus on a few things besides financial gains. One of them is to attempt to go back to my former job in the Army, to ensure a stable income until I can do something different. I could try working two jobs, or just pull out my 14 year pension and slowly focus on something else. I need to decide prior to my release.

I have a chance at changing my life for the better so I am going to make the most out of it. I can say I'm a little different from many around me because I have savings stashed away to help me to start again, as opposed to others that have nothing. Those people end up going back to their old ways to get 'paid', so that can they start a new life. That's where the Venus fly trap awaits you.

I want to consider various investments that I feared before but my goal is logistics cargo. I know enough about it from before, when I had an identity, but I've learned so much more from the people in this concrete tomb. I've made the connections and I find it to be my comfort zone, like a dancer in a disco.

Now, all of this preplanning does have a purpose. It isn't just to manage myself, or to keep myself busy. It's to start a family. I would like to have a family, I would be at peace with myself. Obviously, it will always be with me, like a constant guilt trip, but I want to pass my experience to my children so that they don't make bad decisions like I did.

My wife would be none other than the only person that stood with me throughout this ordeal, and gave me hope even though I had lost my light in this darkness: my dearest girlfriend. I made her a promise – and I'm going to stick by it – that when I leave here I would be done with whatever got me here in the first place, commit to our future and nothing else, and leave former 'Associates' behind. They can find their own way here.

To start a new life means new influential people that have nothing to do with my former life. I long for my release: the smell of the air around me, the sounds of life happening around me, the feeling of unconditional love from my soon-to-be wife, the freedom of movement without restriction and to eat tasty food like it's going out of fashion.

I'm good at— wait, let me correct that. I was good, now I'm great at reading people. This place honed my people-skills. It taught me who to keep and who to put aside, who is hiding emotion, who is only in it for their own gain. I want to go out with a stronger drive and more ambition than before. I've learnt so much from my time and I hope I can be an inspiration to others.

After everything I've been through, most of tomorrow's challenges will seem simple. I see myself living a healthy lifestyle, complete with simplicity, serenity, joy, passion and happiness.

#  Is Tomorrow in our Hands?

## Shrikant

As I remember, it was 20th February 2019 at three p.m. I was so hungry, passing my lunch hour, just waiting for my name to be called from a list of a hundred and twenty-eight people at Aamir immigration centre.

At 3.05 p.m. they called my name and finally that moment had come for me after forty-five days of battles, I finally achieved my exit permit to fly to my mother land. I wished to kiss the hand of the officer while he literally handed over the out pass, its 35 long months I didn't see my family can you believe that? Immediately had a selfie of the documents and sent it to Somali, my wife. She has been my rock since we married in 1997, through many similar battles.

For last seventeen years I have been beautifying hotel buildings like they are beautiful brides, and marrying them to operations, as though I am the bride's father. Well, they have enough married brides now so I became out of job with no further hopes left of employment in the UAE.

I had 48 hours to kiss my mother land. I hit the road to prepare myself. I thanked my Lord that I no need to lie to my mom, the first woman in my life, about my date to reach home. I hated myself so much when I did lie to her for three years, as even I didn't know when I could reach home.

I called Prasad, a childhood friend, and Shabana, my adoptive elder sister. I am thankful to both of them for being my only family in Dubai. Both of them were very happy. Prasad asked me a million-dollar question, knowing my whole story which could have saved me from the disaster. He said, 'Why was I not going home for good?'

I should have listened to him. He has always been my voice of reason.

Finally, it was time to reach the airport the next day, heading for Mumbai. Royce picked me up in time and dropped me at the airport. On the way I expressed my fears to Royce. He is my partner in the business for the small deals we crack outside my job, and a good friend. I was foreseeing a darker tomorrow, with no hopes for a decent offer. I was getting unstoppable, harassing phone calls from banks for my mortgaged apartment, credit card, cars, and all this was going on for twenty-four months.

Do you see now, why the exit permit was much more than just a document to me? I felt like all my Christmases came at once! We both thanked God that we and our families are healthy, safe and sound, and we said goodbye.

I rushed in the airport building to reach my flight. As I was approaching the immigration lounge the picture of my dark tomorrow was fading. I could see my family in front of me finally, as I boarded my flight. Soon the tyres started rolling with a cranking sound from the release of brakes. I requested for a drink with extra ice from the hostess, relaxed in my seat and started rewinding the movie reels of the last twenty-four years of my life in UAE. My heart started weeping with the experience I had in the last two years.

A pleasant jolt of the flight touching down in my motherland gently woke me up, leaving me finally at peace and overwhelmed, my feet firmly on terra firma. Have you ever seriously kissed your motherland? Well, I did, with tears. I came out of the airport, taking a cab reaching under my building. Already, I was de-stressed and happy as Larry. I rang the door bell – Oh God! There she was, watching me through our grilled main door, crying out my name loudly, with tears. She opened the door and hugged me. I finally saw my mom and the family after three long years.

Happy days were back again with the whole family. Shortly afterwards I left for a pilgrimage tour for a week to thank our God. On the way I halted with my college friends who were now established as owners of few factories. They opened the doors for me to trade in industrial products worldwide. The same time, one of close friends offered me my dream project. To design and build one hundred holiday homes on a mountain top in a lush, green, dense forest reserved for tigers. There is a beautiful lake with crystal clear water at the base of the mountain, where the animals come for water. If you are there in the rain you will find heaven on earth, but a roar of a tiger will wake you up back to reality.

Back home Anand secured an interview with a top-notch development company in Mumbai. I was so grateful to my Lord and Anand for giving me this great opportunity towards a brighter tomorrow. Anand is my younger brother and very well established in India as an architect. After a smooth exchange of the questionnaire with the owner of Mumbai's largest developer, I could see brighter prospects as the appointment was confirmed. Things were finally looking up. All these developments happened in eight weeks of my stay in India, by the grace of my Lord and blessings of my parents. I decided to plan my golden tomorrow in India, as lots of opportunities were knocking on the door.

I shared the developments with my family and asked for a break of three weeks to pack up my loans, apartment and so on in Dubai, before I start my golden tomorrow. I carried an empty suitcase to bring my things back from Dubai. The airport was twenty minutes away, the roads chock-a-block with homebound people from the offices. I reached the immigration lounge, grabbed a coke and sat in a chair.

I was thinking to myself about an old cliché: 'what a difference a day makes'. What a massive difference those eight weeks had made to my life, and the disastrous position I was in, the last time I was at the airport. I was amazed the difference this short time period made to my life, and I was so looking forward to a brighter tomorrow.

I started walking towards my flight. Soon, we left the airspace of India, entering into the UAE airspace. I didn't sleep in the flight, as I was scheduling all the activities and working with all the possibilities I discovered back home. It was announced that the flight will land in Sharjah airport, due to some work on a Dubai runway. While landing, my hands grabbed the seat handles tightly, pushing my seat back firmly. We landed safely. Thank you, Lord!

I reached the immigration queue, having no idea what was about to happen. The lady asked for my passport and she looked at me for a few seconds. Then she asked me to go to her manager. He took my passport and started asking me routine questions. Later, he asked me to take a seat and picked up the landline receiver. I sensed that there was something terribly wrong here. After ten minutes, I saw two policemen walking towards me, asking me to go with them. What's happened? I was confused and frightened. It suddenly dawned on me I was being taken away by police. What was next? I had no clue.

While walking with the policemen I thought of my father and uncle: heroic figures for me, my saviours in every problem up to my engineering college life. Before college I fell out of a running train hitting the signal pole. My skull almost broke in half, I had seventy-five stitches. I was soaked in blood. Before I fell unconscious, I asked for my father and my uncle. That day at the airport, I felt the same horrifying feeling. I wished for my saviours. I was taken to an airport basement and locked in a cell for the first time in my life.

Can you imagine? A locked, windowless room, with twenty bunk beds fully occupied by snoring criminals. I was free like a bird my whole life, and suddenly locked up in a chilling, cold, dark, soundproof cell. I was suffocated and breathless.

In one week I was transferred to a correctional centre. I was traumatized for two months. I struggled and cried with my soul, because I had dreams coming true very soon. A gold tomorrow planned. But all in vain, now.

After ten days I called my brothers and my wife, informing them where I was. They were horrified. We agreed no one should be informed about this matter. I didn't want my seventy-five-year-old parents to deteriorate their mental and physical health. This really worried me, cause in a few days it was their fiftieth marriage anniversary.

With time as a healer, I gathered myself. I kept thinking about my son, who needed his father the most. I didn't want him to cry like I cried when my father was far away from me in my childhood. I have a million alien emotions going around my mind. My parents need me the most as their eldest son, to be with them, to give them love and care. My wife needs me.

But what other choice I had?

Oh God! Have mercy on me! I pray and pray and pray.

Eventually I stopped staring at the ceiling. I started floor exercise, started training people, assisting older inmates. Read books, keep praying, keep talking to the people around. I realised I needed a few changes with my habits, so I did change. I accepted the fact that I am behind bars not because of anyone or a crime, but because of my own mistakes. It seems this correction was mandatory for past actions as cleansing and to safeguard future.

Some of my good friends turned their back on me when they knew I was imprisoned, but these are human nature created by the Lord, so no one is to be blamed. Another so-called friend of mine sold all my belongings in my house in Dubai instead of sending them back home. He has blocked the jail phone number so I cannot call him.

There are a few experiences I would like to share. I met a few very good inmates with ethics, manners and kindness, but some inmates are very devious and hurtful. A lawyer recommended by inmate cheated on me, grabbing a hefty amount to confirm an early release, then doing nothing.

I may not be the first one to experience such bitter happenings, but certainly would request to alert the good readers in society to extend their assistance in which ever they could to help people. We are all part of society and these things may happen to anyone at any time.

There comes now a star performer woman, just like a guiding star who literally turned our lives upside down in four days, in few hours of each day. She is the one and only responsible that I could express my feeling on a paper presenting to all you good readers on such an international platform. I am just a beginner writer, but happy and thankful that I could express my feelings to the wise readers and society and hoping to be accepted.

In my eight-month journey so far, my plans tomorrow have changed, and although tomorrow looked bleak at one stage, it will now be much brighter, by God's grace. I cannot explain as I have limitations, but the improvements are first in person and then with society. I was once part of society, and tomorrow will be part of it again.

#  Tomorrow Will Come

##  Empty Heads

Some say, 'tomorrow never comes.'

'Who has seen tomorrow?' others say.

But then, they said that yesterday...

This is a work of fiction and emotion. It consists of a dialogue between 'Me', 'Yesterday' and 'Today'. I have also represented my subconscious self as 'Myself', who – in this piece – will take on 'Tomorrow'. While it touches my personal travesty, it also touches on critical factors of climate change, environmental pollution and green bankruptcy, albeit in tongue-in-cheek references which will all impact the tomorrows of generations to come. It's a teasing journey which meanders in my thought-processes. Every day I think 'tomorrow will be like this, tomorrow will be like that', and then I wake up each day to recollect, reconstruct myself to work on another belief system that some day, somewhere, I will find the tomorrow of my dreams.

I sure am a dreamer, and I'm not the only one!

For my mother, my wife, my son; being the only reason of my perseverance, my strength, my existence.

Today will not let me go! It just kept sticking to me, gripping me suffocatingly, despite my persistent efforts to break free. I looked at others for help. Mr Yesterday was looking on, but there wasn't much hint of any concern for me in his eyes. The wrinkled look on Yesterday's face was compelling, as was his worn down dusty attire. I could see him besides Today. He, too, was having a dishevelled look, and unshaven face, ruffled hair and a tired demeanour. Mr Today was looking menacing in his trendy but dirty and untidy overalls.

'Myself', my subconscious being and my friend, was my only other support at the moment. Looking lost, he was sitting across the room worried and concerned. Something about him was telling me that he was desperate to help but the negative body language of Today and my bearings from Yesterday, which were being lined up on the table next to me, was all too intimidating for both me and myself.

I somehow managed to gather some strength from my badly bruised ego and shattered self-confidence and decided to fight back and try again. Myself was not sure of the strategy but Me being a fighter that I am, I was not able to just lie down and bear the onslaught. This somehow propped up Myself who also is an optimist to the core like Me. With him by my side, I felt that we might just be able to break free. Despite all my ongoing travails, I somehow believe that my moment is there, somewhere just around the corner. I had an intuition that I will rise again if I can manage to convince Myself to hold on and stay with Me.

From the corner of my eyes, through the wide but closed window, I noticed Tomorrow moving up on our driveway. A mere look at him fills me with hope, courage and motivation I needed. Though I could not see Tomorrow clearly, I was still able to notice his strong poise. There was something dapper in his personality and an aura of hope and positivity around him. As both Me and Myself looked at him, we realized that it was our only chance. If we can somehow reach out to Tomorrow, I would be able to break free from Today and Yesterday. If and only if I could catch Tomorrow's attention somehow. I prayed hard.

With our only hope looming around I pulled myself gathered all my energy and courage to confront today. With all my strength I tried to wriggle out of Today's lock. I shouted at Today 'why are you not letting me go? What have I done?'

This sudden action from Me startled Today. Looking at me with a hurt kind of look, Today retorted, 'Why are you angry at me?'

'No, I am not angry with you,' I responded. 'I am not angry with you, but I'm surprised. I'm aghast with your strange questions in my life, my predicaments, which disturb me.'

'With you, I had never realized that to live, I will have to go through and endure all the pain and misery that I have now. If I smile, I will have to pay a huge price for all those smiles.'

'Now I am scared. I don't even dare to smile, as it feels there is a huge burden of debt on my lips.'

'Oh, Today, I really am not angry with you, but I am exasperated, devastated! I have nothing left of Me,' I cried.

Yesterday, who till now was a mute spectator, suddenly jumped to his feet. 'Aha, OK, so now you are blaming Today for all your problems. And you think he is being unfair to you. Really?' he roared. 'Is this what you think? Now, let me tell you, if Today was really nasty, as you think he is, then you could have been in a hospital instead of where you are now. You would have been wearing a blue medical gown, not the dress you are in now. You would have been fed with more drugs and pills than the morsels of food on your food tray that you detest to queue for. With all those tubes and pipes protruding in and out of you, a constant beep on a monitor by your bedside would have been the only source to confirm if you are living another day.'

Admonishing me further, he continued. 'Today is what it is because of your own reckless, careless and irresponsible attitude towards me, your Yesterday. And did you ever give a damn about Today, ever? Then you have a cheek to blame Today for all your problems. How dare you!'

I did not see this angry and vociferous outburst coming. Stunned, cornered, I retreated. Myself also slumped back in his chair in a tense room. Reality struck hard. Shaken and humbled, I now realized that my own introspection will open my eyes to see my shortcomings, my mistakes. I knew instantly that I have to repair the damage sooner rather than later. With folded hands and regret in my eyes, I looked apologetically towards Today. My sight was blurred with all that water in my eyes. Dammit, where had it leaked from?

With my back to the wall, head bowed, a heavy heart and pain in my voice, I looked at Today, gathered some courage and asserted, 'Please forgive me, and don't get me wrong, but I was not prepared for all that it happened. The race that I was dragged in unknowingly, has broken Me and shattered Myself. Oh Today, now I realise that it was my interaction with you which showed me the new relationships in my life and removed the dust from the existing ones, who were nowhere to be found. I must also confess my most comforting times were encased within the most testing and harsh moments that I had endured. My dear Today, my every moment with you and Yesterday will remain etched in my memory, in my heart forever. All those moments are now part of my character, my very being that I am.'

'But now,' I continued, 'I want to correct all the wrongs. I know I have to fight hard. I will fight. I have a lot of work to do to resurrect myself and build everything all over again. Please understand, I have to go, move on, can't be stranded here like this, because the moment that is about to come, is about to go. I wish to live my entire life in this coming moment, which is about to go.' I pleaded with Today slumping on my knees into his lap.

There was a pin-drop silence. It remained that way for some time. I suddenly felt a warm hand, caressing my head. As I looked up I saw Today looking at me with a calm, intense stare. Just beside him, was Yesterday. There was a strange, concerned, loving demeanour in the way both Today and Yesterday were now looking at me.

I look similar to the one I noticed in my father's eyes, when I last saw him; similar to the encouragement in my mum's eyes, whenever she looks at me; similar to the confidence and hope in my wife's and son's eyes, whenever I looked at them. I will never be able to forget the intensity which I could now feel clearly in Yesterday's and Today's eyes.

And then a strange thing happened. The stranglehold, which was holding me back all this while, began to loosen up. With both his hands on my shoulders, Today pulled me up from his lap, and said, 'I believe you have now understood our relationship. This means the time has come for me to leave and for you to move on.' I noticed Yesterday, too, was smiling and nodding in agreement with Today.

Puzzled, I looked back at Today, who by now was slowly moving away from me, towards Yesterday, his gaze never leaving me. A hollow-ish feeling enveloped me. Bit scared I tried to follow Today and grabbed his hand, but he stopped me. Pointing me towards the door, which was opening slowly. He nudged me gently in that direction, and said, 'someone is waiting for you. Go, take on your world!'

The door was now open. The bright shining light was emanating through it. I squeezed my eyes to see through and noticed Tomorrow was standing there majestically. I gasped! There was something magical in his eyes. I saw him nodding at Yesterday and Today, as they both started drifting away; towards where, I couldn't fathom. Tomorrow looked at me, raised his hand to grab mine, and said, 'Ready? Come on, let's go!'

A gust of wind swept through. I had been dreaming of this moment all this while and finally when it was happening I just didn't know how to handle it. Dazed, I followed Tomorrow, into a new world, as if I was in a trance.

It looked cloudy. 'Clouds!' I exclaimed. 'It seems it's going to rain. I love rain,' I said to Tomorrow.

'These are not clouds, my dear. It's smog and haze. And it doesn't rain any more,' sighed Tomorrow.

'Doesn't rain? But why?' I asked in bewilderment.

'You know, with all the climate shift, global warming and deforestation, rains have more or less vanished. And whatever sporadic instances were left, even that has been stopped,' replied Tomorrow.

I could not believe what I was hearing. Stopped? By whom? And why? 'Well, you see, it used to rain 'cats and dogs', and it used to be water everywhere. But relating rain to cats and dogs resulted in objections from the animal rights groups. They protested that blaming their beloved pets for the flooding that rains bring is discriminating against 'meows and bows'. They say what have cats and dogs got to do with the rains, and they demanded it had to stop. They have sued the rain God. The matter is now in court, and the gods have been caught on the wrong foot. They always used to believe that they were above us (literally and metaphorically) but now they are wanted by the law. Until they appear personally, the courts have ordered the rains to stop.'

'Really?' I asked. 'But why can't God step down for once and settle the matter?' I enquired.

'Well,' Tomorrow replied. 'The problem is that the rain god is stuck. There are no rail or sea connections between heaven and earth. And God does not want to risk taking a charter flight, because our travel and aircraft are the single largest environmental pollutants. God cannot afford a 'how dare you' situation. And since the matter is subjudice, rains will have to wait until the problem is solved.'

I was shocked. With a lump in my throat, I was overcome with emotions, but then quickly checked them back. After all, rain contains all my emotions. Emotions of love and romance, puddles, paper boats, umbrellas, fritters, and the music of raindrops falling on the tin roof. Oh, all that's so nostalgic, I thought.

I loved walking in the rain, arms outstretched, feeling the raindrops falling on my face, which at times used to camouflage my own emotional downpour. I still have that one tear left, hidden somewhere in the corner of my eyes, saved for a rainy day, as they say. 'Let it rain,' I crooned, as Tomorrow continued to drive on.

In a distant horizon I noticed a dull black-and-white semicircle. Up in the sky. 'What's that?' I asked Tomorrow.

'That's a rainbow,' Tomorrow replied.

'Rainbow? How can it be? Where are all the colours?' I shouted in astonishment.

'My dear, there aren't any colours left in the world. With all the smoke and pollution, colours have lost their distinct identity exclamation,' sighed Tomorrow. Taking a deep breath, he then pointed me to the corner of the street, to a coffee shop called Easel & Paintbrush. I looked inside. Blue and Green were sitting glumly in a corner. Everything around was looking dull, or worse: brown or black.

With a painful look in his eyes, Blue said, 'There was a time not so long ago, when I was invoked to describe a blue-eyed boy, blue blood, and blue ribbon panels. Now I am not even remembered once in a blue moon, because no one has seen the moon in a long time, forget a blue moon. For that matter, people have even forgotten that the sky is blue!' Pain was evident in Blue's eyes.

'You can complain till you are blue in the face,' cut in Green. 'I gave mankind the green light, green paper, green thumb and green shoots. Even Americans embraced me to produce greenbacks, their currency. And all this attention on me used to make you green with envy. But now everyone is complaining that they don't get the rub of the green because of the pollution.'

'You are just a green horn bro!' chipped in Red, who emerged from behind the bar. She used to think that every day was a red letter day and everyone ought to roll out the red carpet in her honour. But now pollution has got the better of her and she sometimes looks more like her darker cousin Brown, rather than her little cousin Pink, who always blushed when tickled. Even Pink had been given the slip by pollution, and dismissed.

'What are you complaining about?' piped up White, casting a disdainful look at Blue, Green and Red, because she thought she was both the superior colour and had a superior collar. 'I'm the worst off because I'm so pure and pristine. Pollution has destroyed me and I will have to wave my white flag to surrender.' Every colour around White clicked sympathetically, even though everyone knew White was prone to lying.

I froze in my tracks on what I was hearing and seeing. A world sans colours. Gosh, it all feels so gloomy...

Depressed, I egged on Tomorrow to drive on, to take me home. Sensing my state of mind, Tomorrow shifted gears. As we drove on, a long winding road... I hummed to myself the legend of all songs. 'Country roads, take me home, to the pace, I belong...' and when did I slip back in my dreams? Perhaps I don't know.

Yearning to step back into my world. I now realized it will be full of uncertainties. The world has changed, people would have moved on and I will have an all together new set of circumstances to negotiate. It will be difficult to prioritise where to start from, but all that will have to wait, wait for that moment.

The moment of me reaching my doorstep and hearing my mum's scream of joy when she sees me and embraces me the same way she would have done, taking me in her arms for the first time when I was born. The moment when I will be born again. By my mum's side, will be my wife, her moist eyes will be trying hard to hold back the tell-all downpour. With her loving hug I will feel her hands clutching my hands as if to never leave them again, never let me go. I will be feeling my neck getting moistened from the breath of my son, towering over my shoulder, hugging me from behind. My legs will be trapped with my dog curling up there, bringing the house down with his unstoppable barks.

Yes, everything else will have to wait, wait for the moment when I slip into the confines of my family, my home, when I reach there. A gentle waft of cool autumn breeze sweeps through the open windows. Constant chipping of sparrows and humming of a cuckoo on a distant eucalyptus tree are all music to my ears. The reddish orange hues of a brilliant morning sun announces a new day, a fresh new start. The smell of drenched plants, flowers and wood from an overnight rain is lingering teasingly across the beautiful landscape of lush green lawns around my home.

My wife, dressed in my favourite blue and white dress, will be setting up the table as mum is cooking up some of her best and my favourite dishes. The lingering aroma of curries, stuffed pancakes in creamy butter, with lots of fresh curd on the side and many more of my favourites. I have never been so hungry before.

All this shows that... I sure am a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

Just as all these instances flash by my mind, I notice both Yesterday and Today passing by, smiling at Me and waving their final goodbyes. As they both start disappearing into the distant horizon of my memory. All of this looks so surreal, emotional and overwhelming.

And Tomorrow is sitting relaxed, letting the moments of love, emotions and affections flowing around. Looking at me, and in a pleasant voice, he said, 'Happy? Don't worry, I am here, I am with you. Let's start.'

Mesmerised, all I'm able to say is, 'hello, Tomorrow.'

Sketch by 'Empty Heads'

Tomorrow is encased within a range of mountains. Mountains are symbolic to strength, grandeur, perseverance and longevity. In my vision my Tomorrow (and that of humanities) should be as strong and sturdy as the mountains. The rising sun symbolizes dawn of a new day; new hope, new possibilities. It symbolises positivity. I wish for a tomorrow full of rising suns. But our tomorrow is threatened by climate shift and pollution. You may notice that only two of the peaks are snow capped. This underlines global warming, and the reducing snow cover across the globe. The river dries up towards the end of the picture, warning of our depleting water resources. On either side of the river are two sections: one with crops and plants, the other with chopped down trees. Deforestation is one of the biggest threats to the human race. Finally, a black and white rainbow in the background; its colours stripped away by pollution.

#  The Day the Sultan Goes to Market

##  Rakesh Chandola

Dedicated to the living memories of loved ones lost.

Between agony and hope, between the bars and the stars...

If I arrive at the doorstep of my home tomorrow, I'll be in no rush to hit the buzzer or hazard a knock. I'll take a moment to soak in the view of what I've missed. A view I missed in the painfully extended stretch of two long years that I was away.

I'll shuffle nervously between the pages of my mind, to see what I missed, while entering home every day. A routine that simply had to be gotten out of the way. Tomorrow, though, I'll run my fingers along the curved lines on the doorway that may have seen me enter and exit a million times. The doormat that we bought while holidaying. The pocket sleeve for magazines and newspapers, that mum gifted when we first moved to Dubai. The florals my darling daughter did as her first real work of art. The smell of wood. The feel of the side window through which our rabbit Barney shakes his head, flapping his delightfully long ears in welcome.

And then, from somewhere inside, I'll hear a voice. 'Come on now, you can do it!'

I'll freeze. Is that my wife Bhattu, or just my imagination playing up, I'll wonder, then I'll hear it again. 'Go on, you can do it – believe me, you can!' That's her! I'll revel in jubilation, the element of suspense outdone by sheer instincts of a doting wife. How very wonderful, I'll think, but really, how can she know I'm by the door? Can a soulmate instinctively sense an arrival? A hesitation? A predicament? My spirits will soar, hearing her emphatic summons: 'Come on now, what are you waiting for? Don't you hear me?'

I'll finally summon the courage to touch the door knob, when will come through the unmistakable voice of our daughter. 'Enough of that potty training, mom! You know Junior won't do it squatting on that throne.'

'Aren't you going to help your kid brother, girl? Now come on...'

'Eewww – no! No way!'

And then a third voice will resonate from the toilet. 'But Mom, there are gooey ghosts in that white pot. It's scary, maybe there's a dragon hiding in there...'

I'll say to myself, laughing, 'Yes, this is my home. This is my kingdom, alright.'

The next few minutes will all be a blur, as I'll hug my little treasures and allow my skilled potty trainer to fall on my neck and cry. Ever the family glutton, I'll venture to the kitchen in an hour or so, only to find leftovers from breakfast. I'll rattle bottles in the fridge, dip a curious finger into the vanilla custard, and spill a little rose water over tired eyes, allowing the enchanting smell of roses to linger.

Chucking brown bread, I'll bite into pancakes bursting in their seams with warm butter and maple syrup. Satiated, I'll do my bit to counter global warming, letting out a burp in the direction of maple trees in distant Canada!

I'll then place that first international call to Mom, to let her know we're coming over the weekend. She'll no doubt ask me to take her to our ancestral village, which we missed visiting since ages. A small number of friends who stood firmly by my side in tough times would be the next. We'll have them over the following day. Barney, our rabbit, will nibble on my ear while I lie on the bed, calling people. I know he'll test my patience with his soft nibbles gradually getting harder, till I'll pull his whiskers, asking him to behave.

And then I'll ask Bhattu darling, of the things I missed while I was away. I'll run through a bucket list of everything she needs, and pick one that agonised her the most.

I'll await the glorious moment where the six of us (me and my five senses) can curl up in bed and revisit the gory characters that regularly feature in the nightmares of my son. I'll have him confront his fears by giving funny names to the characters who haunt him – Bit Bit, the vampire, and Bul Bul, the dragon – cooking up stories of valour for him.

I'm thinking of invoking his other fear – of math – too. What if Prince Math jumped on his horse 'Scary', and rode to duel with Bul Bul the dragon, that holds Princess Geometry hostage in a high castle? Math would pack a punch at Bul Bul. The dragon would shoot flames at him, till she ran out of gas! Tail between her legs, she'd flee the scene, yelling, 'I give up! I give up!'

And then Prince Math would wed Princess Geometry, multiplying kids every year. Pralu, my son, would obviously be drawn in a country contest. Chubby cheeks would stick his stubby little fingers one by one till he lost count...

Boring board meetings that held sway over me for all these years can wait. What can't wait will be the thrill of turning bed sheets into tents and canopies, converting mundane existence into thriving souks in imaginations that bustle with a thousand activities. Tomorrow, the big Friday bazaar will descend in our bedroom, where wiry traders jostle with burly sultans from Asabia in order to shop. Two little street vendors – fat faced and sparkling eyes – will morph into traders of things big and small. Two pillows will find their way into my tummy, puffing me up into a burly sultan, desperate for a good bargain.

'Lemons, peaches, pineapples and cherries!' Pree, my daughter, will yell without warning. 'Take 'em all – they're going cheap!'

Sultan Burly-Ullah-Khan will descent from an inky elephant to strike a deal. 'How much for the melons?' I'll ask, pointing at Pralu's chubby bottom.

'Ah! Sir, I see you have money,' Pree will say, spitting on the floor through the slit of her newly fallen tooth, 'but not the brains to pick your fruit. Come here, I beseech you, to my stall instead. Feast your eyes upon these cherries

and my peaches.'

I'll watch the star, with her missing-tooth smile and her rosy-cheek peaches, and scratch my sultan beard, admiring her pitch against the backdrop of a hapless melon trader. He'll of course continue, and – when I finally decide to settle for peaches – he'll break into a wide-mouthed wail, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. 'Buy my melons!'

'Peaches and lemons!' Pree will jump, her shrieks getting louder.

'My melons are watery!' Pralu will counter.

I'll grab the entire market in my arms; a whole universe of God-sent fruits, and cover them with a million kisses. An inky wife who has meandered her way into our souk will be handed a befitting insult. 'Sultan, sir, your elephant has escaped custody! Get a rope. Chain her feet. Do anything, but don't let her wander like this in open market!'

Flustered and angry, the inky elephant will exit the scene, stomping her feet, leaving us in peals of laughter.

Back in our home country, the following week, I'll rendezvous with the giver of my life. Mom, who missed having me by her side when Dad left us a year and two months ago, won't let go of my embrace. I'll take her hand in mine and without verbalising too much, let her know we'll be together for the rest of our lives.

We'll visit our ancestral village in the rustic hillside of Asabia, where people will turn up in narrow alleys to check me out. Old nannies with scant education will pacify wailing kids. They'll point in my direction, saying, 'shut up, or the cops will lock you up – the way they did that man!' Passing yaks will make faces. Village dogs will be a lot more dignified. Perhaps one may smell jail time, seared in my skin, only to let regret emerge in a stream of undulated pee, shot through the respectful hoist of a raised dog leg. Old men, perched on open balconies, smoking hubbly bubbly, will click their tongues in sadness. Dry gorges and valleys on their faces will bunch up when I'll stop by to ask if all is well.

I'm reasonably sure they'll wonder how an ex prisoner could wear a past conviction on his sleeve and still feel comfortable. After all, taboos, like prescription pills, are meant to be discarded beyond their date of usefulness.

Risks and rewards and business territory. As businessmen, several of us made mistakes with financial commitments in adverse market conditions.

And then there are always gaps in the law. Sometimes it pays to own up without cerebralising too much. After all, with acceptance comes peace, which is the foundation for new beginnings.

Back in my kingdom and on my wife's birthday, I'll read out the following poem, penned behind bars:

There's someone that sits

In the very epicentre of my life.

An angel called Bhattu

Who is also my wife.

We'll care for each other

In good times and strife.

There's cake, and I wonder...

Where's fork and the knife!

The Catholic church will delight at the sight of an approaching female priest in robes, who will spit on the floor through the slit of a fallen tooth, before blessing the couple. 'You may now kiss the bride!'

We'll both struggle with Sultan's pillows getting in the way of the kiss. Once done, my wife will joke, 'But where's the magic? My old frog is supposed to transform into a prince, isn't he?' Her sparkling wit will send the rest of us 'croaking' with laughter.

And then tomorrow, when I venture to work, I'll stop to wish hello to Old Illtumish – our Turkish neighbour – whom the world calls Grandpa. Major, his one-eyed dog, must still be around. In God's crazy world, villains often live extended lives. Major must still be around, scaring little kids, chasing cars and revelling in the aftermath by strutting his paws in victory!

Illtumish, who'll probably be sitting on the fence of ninety years, now, will throw his hands in the air and hug me. I'll report to that valiant general, fighting several of life's battles at once. I'll report to him as a humble soldier; a graduate of the school of life behind bars. I lost two years, and I will learn from the two decades that saw him lose everything. Family, business, money, health, everything. Including himself. I have seen the man face up to the vileness with which life seemed to have dealt one merciless blow after another. Yet Illtumish stood tall and faced the tyranny calmly. In the past, I could never really bring myself to question him.

Tomorrow, I'll find the nerve and the time to gain his perspective, sitting by his side on his high fence. He will, without doubt, raise an arthritic finger and show me life with all its joys and sorrows on the one side, and death – with its impotence and mystery – on the other. I will see shades of my own tomorrows reflected beautifully in his steel blue eyes. I know, like him, I'll have the stitch of old age guide me through the highs and lows, bearing even disposition towards the bliss and the blizzards of life.

If time behind bars were a wound, there is a certain madness in bringing it out in the open, than allowing it to fester within, and ultimately infecting the essence of your very being.

Sometimes, just sometimes, an enclosure of four walls allows you to descend into a deep well of introspection, where you lose the sense of time, but end up finding yourself. When you emerge with rested eyes, you are allowed a rainbow of possibilities, where you once saw just black. A sense of grateful appreciation expands comprehension of everything around. You begin to break free from the limited realisation of who you really are. The soul learns to celebrate solitude – which an ignorant would label loneliness. Harsh boundaries that separate the 'p' in pleasure from the 'p' in pain, appear smudged. When the storm clears, you realise that scaling the heights of an ephemeral world pales in comparison to arriving from the depths of your own being.

Which is also why, if I arrive at the doorstep of my home tomorrow, I will be in no rush to hit the buzzer, or hazard a knock.

#  You are My Tomorrow

##  Charles Daeson

If we must know what tomorrow means to the old generation, we have to be old enough first.

'To a sophisticated person there is nothing new under the sun,' my father often told me.

During my childhood, I regarded him as my hero, as Superman. He was supposed to be able to do anything he wanted. I decided to be a man like him, fearless and determined.

When I stepped onto the university campus, 18 years old, an unstoppable surge of adrenaline lashed my still young body. I felt that I could achieve whatever I desired. I owned the entire world. Illusion belongs to the freshman. However, my father sometimes dampened my enthusiasm during that period. He suggested I adopt a cool head; view the real world objectively, in order to deal with any problem I encountered.

Shame to say, I suddenly considered him a coward, overcautious and hesitant to press forward. Father's iconic superman image in my heart collapsed in a single second. I felt I could go beyond him without making an effort, and achieve my dream with ease.

Several years later, I was beaten black and blue by cruel reality.

The following facts proved that my father's calm is a mature wisdom, acquired through time and experience, while my ambition was just a natural immaturity of a stupid boy, who considered himself a person of no ordinary talent.

By some degree, Father's yesterday is my today. He has experienced many things that I have gone through, and that I am going to go through. When I tossed and turned restlessly in bed on countless nights, Father's words often flashed in my mind as I stared blankly at the empty ceiling. I constantly regret that I have not put his hearty advice in either of my ears.

We all think we are above average. Overconfidence, I think, is a very general feature of human psychology. Overconfidence induces us to commit everyday errors, from signing up for gym memberships we will not use, to buying timeshares in a condominium, which we will also not use (at least, not as much as we think we will), to falling for teaser-rate offers on credit cards, which we will use far too much. Almost everyone is overconfident, except the people who are depressed, and they tend to be realists, or some experienced people like my father.

What I have learned over the previous years is that a man has to know his limitations, although tomorrow itself is limitless. And the 'yesterday' of the old generation is the best lesson for us to avoid mistakes. Most of us tend to be poorly calibrated, even when it comes to important skills, like those we need to do our jobs. We generally over-estimate our actual performance, and we are heavily biased toward predicting success.

This is what we have to go through in our naïve days. We are able to embrace a better tomorrow only after we fully taste yesterday.

However, as I have mentioned before, Father's yesterday is exactly my today. Why did I not take the words he poured to me with remarkable patience? I often asked myself this question, but I have not figured out a reasonable answer. A pity. It's perhaps my destiny. Just as many puzzles happened in my life.

After going through everything, I took the initiative to have a long conversation with my father, already in his mid-sixties. I revealed my innermost feelings to him. To my astonishment, I found that Father was negative about his tomorrow. He never told me so, but every word he spoke, reminded me that my tomorrow would be shiny and splendid, while his would be limited and gloomy. Even now, I am not able to describe precisely my frustration at that time. I wondered why Father became like that, after I grew into a mature man through so many things.

I determined to work out a way to inspire Father. I accompanied him on a long vacation to Paris, where he had dreamed of visiting for decades. I taught him to enjoy Internet Safari, and every convenience brought by surging technology. I tried my best to deliver to him varied drinks and dishes every weekend.

The consequences disappointed me a lot. Father did not get as excited as I had expected. Finally, I ran out of my poor patience. I came straight to the point. I asked him, 'Dad, all that I have done is to make you happy. I really want you to embrace tomorrow with me. Our tomorrows. Do you think your tomorrow is ticking away? Or do you think you don't have a bright tomorrow? Honestly, I think you are still young; young enough to create an unimaginable tomorrow far beyond your predictions. The average life nowadays is reaching to eighty – why do you think your tomorrow is limited?'

Father's reply stunned me.

'My son, please do not comfort me. When did I tell you that I think my tomorrow is limited? I have experienced whatever I am supposed to have. Of course, everyone desires a longer life, to witness the new things coming out from nowhere. To see the amazing changes in our world. But my yesterday is your today. I am lacking in energy and curiosity to adjust to everything fresh. I have never thought my own tomorrow is limited. Because, my son, you are my tomorrow.'

Yes, that is Father's answer. I think that is also the truth I had always been looking for.

As I tried whatever I could to encourage and inspire Father, I never realised I am exactly his tomorrow. My life and my improvement is the best inspiration to him. When I naively persuaded him to embrace our tomorrows together, I never considered that life is like a relay race. When Father passed the baton to me, he passed on his wish for tomorrow, as well. He expected me to run faster and further, instead of waiting for him ahead, or running with him to the end.

Though I cannot have a face-to-face talk with Father in recent days, I can always feel a pair of warm eyes above me, whenever and wherever I make efforts for a better life. He encourages me to run fearlessly towards tomorrow, full of hopes and possibilities.

Because I am his tomorrow.

#  Pictures From the Inside Out

Many of the male inmates are employed in the workshop

Furniture and decorative items are handcrafted

and available for sale

Annabel Kantaria (L) and Clare Mackintosh with

dune buggies made by male inmates

Tote bag made from water-bottle labels by Marina U.A.

Bags, purses and credit card wallets made from used coffee sachets by female inmates

#  From the Women's Prison

#  Thoughts from the Inside

##  Annabel Kantaria, Writer-in-Residence, Dubai Women's Prison

As project briefs go, this was unique: take 15 prisoners from completely different countries, backgrounds and educational levels and, after a week, have each of them produce a piece of work ready to publish.

It was ground-breaking, too. Thanks to the openness of Dubai Police, it was the first time that two British authors had been allowed to remain as unsupervised 'writers-in-residence' inside Dubai Central Prison in order to deliver such an intense workshop. Clare Mackintosh was to teach in the men's prison, while I was to be in the women's.

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous. Not only were the stakes high, but I had so many questions: had Clare and I pitched the teaching at the right level? Would the students, none of whom were native English speakers, be able to express themselves well enough in English? Would they understand what we were trying to do? And, most of all, would they actually be dedicated enough to put in the hard work that we needed them to – not just in class, but in the daily homework we planned to set them? Each piece would have to be written by hand without the 'copy/paste' convenience of a computer. Any editing and rewriting would involve a huge amount of physical work.

Day one started well. Clare and I had worked together to create a lesson plan for the week, so I knew exactly what I'd be teaching and when. Nine women had submitted a written piece of work – of varying quality – as an application to join the class, but fifteen women turned up on the day. I told them a little about what we planned to do, and then asked them to tell me where they were from and what they hoped to get from being a part of the project.

Their answers were interesting. I learned that our little classroom contained the thoughts, ideas, experiences and expectations of people from thirteen different countries. Niki*, who's been inside for 12 years, said she devours books, having read most novels in the prison library multiple times. She's written several manuscripts already and is hoping to be a published author one day. Eliazia loves creative writing. Cathy said she was always putting down her thoughts and feelings in a personal journal. Sandra wanted to learn new skills, Aareev, a business owner, plans to explore creative writing further once she's out, and E uses writing as therapy to help her get through her time inside. All of them said they were excited about the week ahead, although their faces, early that first morning while we were still strangers to one other, belied that a little. I needed to gain their trust.

On a whiteboard, I wrote the guidelines of the project: we were looking for a piece of non-fiction writing that somehow linked to the Festival's 2020 theme of 'Tomorrow'. The emphasis was to be on looking forward. That's an easy one, I thought rather blithely: who wouldn't be looking forward to the day they're released from jail? Who wouldn't be dreaming of the day they get outside?

To help brainstorm ideas, I showed the group what a mind map was and, together, we created one around the theme of 'Summer'. This yielded some lovely memories and quite a lot of wistful daydreaming: a favourite pair of summer sandals; picnics with delicious food and drink; the beach; green trees, flowers; barbecues; and holidays spent with family. We all wallowed in nostalgia. So far, so good. We progressed to the theme of 'Tomorrow' and that's when I got my first surprise.

Aside from the reality of 'tomorrow' in prison, with all that that entails, the more abstract idea of tomorrow was not the entirely positive thing I'd imagined it would be. The majority of the women expressed fear about leaving prison; fear about their new life on the outside. How would they fill 24 hours without a routine? How would they know what to eat without being told? What did their friends think of them now? Would their families forgive them? What kind of world was waiting for them on the outside? How would they find a job? Would advances in technology be so extreme that they would be left far behind? In a nutshell: how would they cope?

Words such as 'scared', 'worried' and 'ashamed' came up, along with the more positive concepts of fresh start, new life and seeing family again. I downed my whiteboard pen and we explored this negativity: it was OK to write what they felt, I told the women. The piece didn't have to be positive. The important thing must be that their writing came from the heart; that it was truly what they wanted to say; not what they thought I, and their readers, wanted to hear.

And, of course, that led us on to thinking about who they thought might read their work: each other, fellow inmates, people attending the EAFOL in Dubai, and the inmates' own families – but, overwhelmingly, the group wanted their work to be read by other prisoners. They wanted to be able to show people in the same situation as them that, while times may be bleak – several compared their time in prison to 'being in a dark room' – there is hope and survival; growth, even.

I sent my little team away that afternoon to identify exactly what they wanted to write about, and the next day we cracked on apace with a lesson on how to structure a piece of writing. We talked about the importance of having a solid beginning, a middle and an end. We talked about how we could pull a reader in with a catchy title and an intriguing first sentence, and we discussed how we wanted people to feel when they finished reading.

So far, so good, as far as the lesson plan went. Over the next couple of days, I planned to build on honing the women's writing techniques with a view to them having a concrete plan of what they wanted to write; a 'planning map' committed to paper, and maybe even the opening paragraph written by the end of the last day. What I hadn't considered was how keen the students were, not to mention, of course, how much time they had on their hands. On day three, I entered the classroom to find several completed manuscripts, beautifully written by hand, waiting on my desk. In contrast, some ladies were still chewing the ends of their pens as they struggled to pin down a topic.

With such diverse needs to meet, I decided the best way forward was to work one-on-one with the ladies; to offer individual tutorials in which I'd simply give what help and advice each participant required, and I'm glad I did because it was in this one-on-one scenario that they started to open up. Now, as I sat with them, quietly reading their work and asking questions about what they'd written, why they'd written it and what they wanted to say, their stories came out. Not the stories of how they'd ended up in Dubai Women's Prison, but stories of their lives before that. Stories of their families, of their struggles, their triumphs and their hopes. Stories about being the only child in school not to own a school uniform, of struggling to get an education, of first jobs, and of the excitement about taking a first flight in an aeroplane. Stories of love, of disappointment, of tragedies, illnesses and broken dreams, and the gentle smoulder of hopes for the future. Suddenly I'd stopped being just their teacher and become their confidante.

As they opened up, I learned about the things they do to pass the time inside – the exercise classes, courses and creative pursuits that they can do – as well as the jobs that they do in order to earn money. I was shown the scarves, jewellery, clothes and nick-nacks that they make and that are on sale, not just in the flower-decorated 'ladies' boutique' inside the prison, but also to the general public in Global Village in Dubai. Earnings are put on 'e-cash' cards and can be spent on treats in the supermarket, the boutique and at the beauty salon inside the prison, where the women can get their hair and nails done.

Clare and I were shown around the prison by Colonel Jamila Khalifa Al Zaabi, the director of Dubai Women's Prison, who explained that she doesn't judge her charges. 'That's the job of the court,' she says. 'I see this place just as their accommodation. If someone has a problem or is upset about something, they come to me, and we have a cup of tea and a chat about it.' Consequently, the women are immensely fond of her, blowing kisses and shouting greetings to her as she breezes through the grounds.

Given I was spending a week inside a prison with people who weren't free to leave, I suppose it was inevitable that I'd start to contemplate the concept of freedom myself. It isn't something I give much thought to on a day-to-day basis, but I'd find myself lost in thought as I made the quiet drive home through the desert each day.

I'd think about the women with whom I'd spent the day; about their vastly different backgrounds, the decisions they'd made and the paths they'd taken that had brought them to their current position. You'll find some of these stories within the pages of this book for, much as I urged the students to write about 'tomorrow', their overwhelming desire was to tell the stories of their past.

And I'd feel an almost guilty relief each afternoon that I was free to exit the prison, to get in my car, wave my way through the gates and leave. I found a new appreciation of the fact that I was free to pick up my son from school, chat to my husband and make a cup of tea. That I could choose what to wear each day, that I could nip out to the shops and cook whatever I wanted for dinner. There was a humbling gratitude that my own 'tomorrow' would be very different from those of my students.

I'd reflect, too, on the resilience of these ladies. I tried to imagine how it must feel to be handed a ten-year jail sentence when you're in the prime of your life; when you have parents and siblings who depend on you and children who need you; and all I could come up with was how broken I'd feel. Yet these women saw the timeline of their lives not so much as broken, but temporarily suspended. Their time inside was giving them time to think about who they were and where they were going in life; to reflect on past mistakes; and to plan for the future.

As the week progressed and I got to know the women better, banter started up. We teased each other, made jokes and relaxed. The classroom was a happy place to be. Each morning I'd come in to find the keener students already writing away at their desks. On the last afternoon, as we relaxed with treats I'd brought in, several of the class dashed off to their accommodation to show things they'd made in their spare time.

I was shown purses and wallets made from weaving together the twisted plastic of instant-coffee sachets, and a stylish tote bag made entirely from water-bottle labels. I was shown a sketchbook of beautiful drawings; and a portfolio of tortured art was presented with a shy shrug: was it any good?

When I left on Thursday afternoon, I couldn't place the feelings that engulfed me as the women lined up to hug me goodbye. Usually you'd take the contact details of newfound friends – you'd suggest meeting for a coffee or a night out – but that wasn't possible. The sadness stuck in my throat; these ladies meant a lot to me and I cared very much about their tomorrows. I'd gone in thinking I was going to teach, but I came out realising I'd been the one who'd learned.

*Names have been changed

Annabel Kantaria

Thank you for an exhilarating week. Wonderful to be made to think, and to a deadline. And for all the time you took to make Thursday a special day.

A participant

Annabel Kantaria outside the Women's Prison

Annabel Kantaria leads a session, with Lieutenant Colonel Jamila Khalifa Salem Al Zaabi, Director of Dubai Women's Prison, and Second Lieutenant Khaled Ebrahim Al Ahdal

#  Disconnected Reality

##  Marina U.A.

' _Just because something doesn't usually happen doesn't mean it never will'_

Julie Sarkissian, Dear Lucy

I think we've all thought about our tomorrow at least once, but have we ever really thought about it? What would be its taste, colour, scent or shape? What is our tomorrow in reality, and what would that reality be? Is it related to our future in a literal or an abstract way?

There are so many questions. What if? What kind? Sometimes I think we're already in tomorrow, but still have no idea about it – that we're stuck in today with its high-tech reality, without knowing that it might already be tomorrow.

My life is ordinary. I get up in the morning and go to bed in the evening and I have some time in between for work, shopping, cooking, cleaning and reading. Some of these things can be replaced; some can be outsourced. But there is one thing that could never be erased from my routine – even in the case of Armageddon – and that's the internet, with its mighty Google.

I can't tell when exactly I became an internet addict and neither do I know if there's any rehab for people like me, but somehow Google has become my closest family member. If I need to check the news, I Google it. If I want to know who's getting divorced, who's getting back together, or who's having a baby in Hollywood (not that I really care, but still) I Google it. If I have to cook dinner for eight people with no food in the fridge, again I ask Google. So, Google became a person to me, and it became my everything.

You can't imagine how frustrated I am when the internet connection gets cut off. I feel so disoriented and lonely, like a lost galaxy among the myriad of the shut-down universe. The power of my addiction makes me stop thinking about reality.

I mean, my real reality is the real day-to-day world, yet I used to get the feeling that I communicated better with my husband on WhatsApp than I did the traditional verbal and emotional way during dinner. I can't say it really frightened me: I just accepted that that's how it was.

Internet connection slowly disconnected us from natural relationships, from verbal conversations, and brain activity. It took away our plans in real life and limited them to inches of monitors and gigabytes of cyber memory.

So, most of my evenings and weekends, I found myself in the company of my brother Google and my uncle, Merlot (the only representative of the real physical world), and it was so usual, so calm and so real for me. My salary was enough to cover my internet bills and my purchases. All the news in the world was available at the click of the ENTER button in the search windows. If I didn't have to work to pay for all of that, I would spend my time online 24/7. I think at that point my brain activity totally depended on the level of battery life symbol I had in the corner of the monitor, just as my blood pressure depended on the speed of the internet. My tomorrow relied on up-to-date software updates.

I am opening my eyes now and trying to figure out if I _feel_ like I'm running a marathon or if I really _am_ running a marathon. I can feel my body, but I can't move. Suddenly I hear the familiar sound of buttons being pressed on the keyboard and everything goes white – there's nothing but whiteness. I'm trying to think, but I don't know what I need to think about. I'm surrounded by the whiteness.

There is no floor, or walls no windows, or doors, no furniture. There is nothing. And this nothing is whiteness. I stare into it, totally disoriented. Suddenly there's a buzzing sound and on the top edge of the whiteness I see it: a search window and, next to it, a bit higher, a full battery charge symbol. I feel like thousand electrical shocks are passing through me. What is this? Exactly as this thought passes through the maze of my brain, I see black capital letters appear inside the search windows: WHAT IS THIS? followed by a hundred links below.

Oh, holy Google, don't tell me I am dead. Am I dead? Immediately, the capital letters change in the search window: AM I DEAD? But, if my consciousness is still talking to me, my brain must be alive. No, I am not dead: I'm in an internet coma!

I am looking at my body, and I cannot see my skin. Instead there's a transparent substance of crystallised material. My veins are not veins at all; they are knots of cables and wires that are streaming through my body, and they flow into the whiteness. Small digits and symbols are running inside the wires and cables.

I want to cry. But there are no tears. I can see only 'sad' and 'crying' emojis popping up everywhere. Is this real? And, again, capital letters appear in the search window: IS THIS REAL?

Stop! Stop! Stop!

I don't want any links. I don't want it this way. Every thought in my head appears in the search window: WHAT AM I DOING HERE? WHY I AM HERE? I want tears to come, but instead I feel like I swallowed a balloon and it exploded inside my throat. And, again, sad faces pop up like they're shot from a bow and arrow. Some of them are ones I used to use in my real life to show my feelings; my mood. But now they're like piranhas, each one eating up the emotions that I'm unable to express.

I try to bring myself back to a time when I really was happy or sad, or when I cried real tears... and there's NADA. Zero. Nothing. Only graphics. I erased it all without even regretting it.

I look up: 50 per cent of my battery life remains. I've wasted half of it already, for nothing: for rhetorical questions and fake emojis. I've wasted half of my life, my dream, my memories on nothing. I want to be at home, to get back to my life. I still have 50 per cent – I'm still half full – and suddenly small windows begin to open in front of me: my parents when they were young and still together. We are on our way to school for my first day. I was so excited about my new dress.

Another window opens: my brother and I opening New Year's gifts. I was hoping for a new book about fairies. One more window: I'm giving my graduation speech. I was talking about my opportunities for tomorrow. More and more windows open, and all of them are real; all of them have me, a different me without the internet and mobile phones; without Google and Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and Classmates.com.

I realise that my internet coma started a long time ago, back when I archived my dreams and memories for tomorrow. I disconnected myself from the real world and it isn't the fault of new technology. It's my fault, and only mine. I let it in. I let my whole self be drawn into it and my gadgets became my children. I cared more about them than I did about real people. If my phone or my laptop needed charging, I'd put everything on hold and find time to charge them. If they needed new cases or covers, I'd spend my last money to buy them. If there was a new app or software, I'd buy it.

I want to cry. I want to cry with real pain – with the shameful tears of my disgrace. Suddenly there's a familiar click and I see the empty battery symbol. It's a symbol of my life: an empty life without any chance for tomorrow. In a second, the whiteness turns into dark.

I open my eyes. I feel calm and relaxed. I can hear the silence. Not the silence of my emptiness, but the silence of early morning in my bedroom. I feel my skin and the warm hand of my husband around me. I feel tears running down of my face, but I am smiling – I am smiling with my forgotten, archived emotions. It's overwhelming. I'm back from my coma.

My husband looks puzzled. He wants to know if I'm OK. Yes! Never better, because I know it's my tomorrow now. And tomorrow I'll have a new tomorrow and, the day after, it'll be another tomorrow. And these tomorrows will change themselves every day, giving me new lives, new hopes, new joys and regrets. They'll make me happy and sad; they'll make me sick and fit; they'll add years to me – new wrinkles, more problems and grey hair – but they'll also bring me the joy of waking up every morning with the hand of my husband on my body and the smell of coffee and freshly baked croissants for breakfast, and the usual daily dilemma of what on earth to wear.

These tomorrows will also teach me lessons from yesterday's mistakes: untaken opportunities, unopened doors, unspoken words, unshown emotions. I know my tomorrow will bring me tears, and not all of them will be tears of joy, but I accept them. My tomorrows are the atoms of my reality, and I am the only creator of my life.

With this carousel of emotions and thoughts I am reaching for the lips of my husband. It feels so good to kiss him. I smile again. My hand slides down to find my charger, but this time I am disconnecting it. Finally.

Sketches by Marina U.A

#  The Opinions of a Cockroach

##  Eliazia Mohammad

' _As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect'_

Franz Kafka

I don't know about Gregor Samsa, but I do know that the only gigantic thing I'd wake up as tomorrow as is a gigantic loser. An upright, bipedal vertebrate (without pincers, last I checked) and a loser. But you know what? That's OK with me. I'm OK with that. I'm too inconsequential to make a lick of difference, hence I'm exonerated of any responsibility.

Now that I've cleared that up, we can move on to the serious bit. You see, the future may not entail any Ovidian transformations (like what happened to poor Gregor) but there will be a certain degree of equally frightening transformations on a much larger scale.

Some of us shameless cynics don't have the privilege of spouting out cliché phrases on a better tomorrow and all that _kumbaya_ just to appease your delicate senses. Plain old optimism isn't going to reverse climate change.

Statistically speaking, and taking into account all the environmental and economic factors, the future world is going to suck for a lot of folks. You can hope for better – Tweet it for all I care – but that's not going to change the trajectory our world is on. The baby boomers have made our bed, and now we have to lie in it.

Well, maybe that's a bit harsh but, seriously, baby boomers, you made things a heck of a lot harder for all of us. I want you folks to pay attention, so I had to go a little belligerent on you. I don't mean to be mean, although you do kind of deserve it. You see, the point of my cynical humour is to sugar-coat just how pissed off I really am.

This is serious. According to a study commissioned by the United Nations, we are on brink of disaster. One hundred and fifty experts from 50 different countries say that we are triggering a mass extinction event connecting many environmental crises. Biodiversity loss, soil erosion and pollution just to name a few. In the next few decades we have famine and water wars to look forward to, not to mention the economic issues people will have to face.

Most won't be able to afford their own homes. The future is starting to look more and more like an Orwellian dystopia.

'Greetings, citizens, the weather forecast for today is a slightly higher level of radiation and maybe some smog. Don't forget to take your happy pills and vials of oxygen. Thank you.'

But then again, what with the glaciers melting and sea levels rising, they might actually just drown first.

The future isn't about me, or you, or most of us, to be honest. It's about our children. To put it into perspective, for myself, the future is about kids like my 17-year-old sister, and this is where the human in me comes out and I feel the pinch of guilt squeezing my black, cynical soul.

My little sister is intelligent, compassionate and lively, albeit a little weird (she enjoys pimple-popping YouTube videos with her dinner). I've met some of her friends and classmates and am surprised at how bright these kids are. Don't get me wrong: they aren't exactly child prodigies, and they are strangely into androgynous Korean boy bands and kimchi. But they have an undeniable spark in them that I hadn't seen – or maybe hadn't noticed – in any of my counterparts during the dark ages when I was in high school.

These kids are connected to the entire world and all the information available in it in a way that wasn't possible in the past. Maybe it's this advantage that makes them so precocious. Whatever the case, these kids care deeply about their planet and all the issues it faces. I've heard them speak with passion about such varied topics as medical and scientific breakthroughs, market recession, the refugee crisis, women's rights and gun violence in a country on the other side of the world. They know the facts, they've formed their own opinions and, for a bunch of teenagers? I wasn't expecting them to be so unbiased.

They totally and utterly believe in the equality of all human beings, regardless of gender, colour, belief or sexual orientation. There are exceptions, of course. They may not be as articulate as I make them sound, but the essence is there. It's in their core beliefs. They're innovative and forward-thinking, and they feel a responsibility toward their planet: a responsibility that their forebearers should have felt.

These kids aren't disrespectful to their environment: they go out in droves, all over the world, to pick up YOUR litter. The years of callous industrialisation, toxic waste, deforestation and pollution happened before they were even born. Yet they are the ones writing letters and posting videos begging world leaders to _please_ do something before it's too late. When I watch the news, I see a world with a weakening climate but, when I speak to these kids, I can almost taste the hope they embody for the future. It hurts me that, through no fault of their own, they are inheriting a broken world.

This little classroom in Dubai, like countless others the world over, is teeming with raw potential. We need to tap into that potential and nurture it. We should engage and empower the youth. Drive the global talks on climate change and put these kids in the forefront. Let's include them and listen to their opinions. Let's create a think tank with them in it; let's let them decide their 'tomorrow' since they are the future, after all. Let them be the change-makers.

So, in a nutshell, my hopes for 'tomorrow' are the youth of today. In them

– and please excuse the over usage of sentimental cliché (I'm a little bit of a hypocrite) – I see a bright spark in a dismal world. And maybe, if we're lucky enough, they won't turn us all into gigantic insects as payback.

But, then again, if all else fails and we do end up nuking each other, I'm sure I read somewhere that the humble cockroach might be the only thing to survive the fallout. And you know what? I think I'd make a wonderful cockroach.

I want you to know, my son, that the world of the present is but a house of mortality, while that of the future is a house of eternity.

Arabian Nights

Sketches by Eliazia Mohammad

#  This Is Me

## N.M.C.

Everything that I did in my past made me strong: a strong, caring mother and a formidable person. After the struggles, challenges and travesty that helped me to be the person I am right now and the person I wanted to be tomorrow, I am beginning to view things in a very different perspective.

I am an African woman, a divorcée. I raised my three kids alone. My eldest, my son, is now 28, and he looks after his younger sisters in my absence, and then I have my two beautiful hardworking, diligent and understanding daughters, who are 24 and 20. The time I divorced my husband of 11 years was one of the hardest and most depressing times of my life, especially for someone like me who comes from a culture that looks down on single parents.

My kids were still young at the time and needed the care and attention of both parents. For a while, I thought I could tolerate staying for the children, but our problems reached a point where I couldn't live under one roof with my husband any more. It wasn't healthy for the children.

When I left my family home, it was like I died a thousand deaths; my heart was heavy and I could barely breathe. I wasn't just leaving my husband, but my children too. Every step I took, took me further from them. Yet I left them with their father, not because I wanted to be free from responsibility, but because I wanted them to have the best life and a good education for the betterment of their tomorrow, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to give them that if I didn't sacrifice being away from them. It was a painful and difficult decision to make. The children were young and nobody understood or wanted to understand why I did what I did.

I had to sacrifice my own existence. I did not remarry until my children finished their secondary university level. It was only much later that my family, friends and all those who judged me understood and appreciated the decision that I'd made. I did all I could to make sure that my children lacked nothing in my absence.

When the going gets tough...

Although it may often feel like it, there is never a time when nothing is happening in our lives. And, just when I felt it was the right time to start anew, I once again faced another iceberg on my Titanic self: I was diagnosed with a severe health problem. I lost hope because this time the problem I was facing couldn't be solved by working hard or earning money; this time it was between fate and me. A week after I was diagnosed by my doctor, I called my family and told them the devastating news. I was totally heartbroken and thinking only of my responsibilities and my children. I felt so lost, hopeless and destroyed.

My family rallied around me, giving me hope and a reason to live and not to give up on life. It made me reflect much more deeply about my life and think about the things I could do myself to prolong it.

I also told my mother-in-law and I can't believe how loving, caring and supportive she was considering what had happened between her son and me. Of course, she tried to talk to me about working things out with my ex-husband but when she saw that was impossible, she took my children under her roof and only allowed them to go with me or my ex-husband on holidays and weekends. That was a gesture I really appreciated as I was working on my physical well-being and my inner healing process. I was learning to accept my situation, and I couldn't bear my kids to have to watch me go through that emotional rollercoaster. It was my mother-in-law who made me understand my situation and condition. She is one of my pillars and one who never stops pushing me to think that tomorrow can be better.

Rainbows come even when it's still raining and, with all the support around me, I managed to get over my 'mid 30s crisis', as I called it. I'd been traveling most of my 20s and late 30s, buying and selling and doing international trade so I was distracted from my condition. Looking back at what I went through, I decided to leave my home country, Zambia, and I went to South Africa to look for a better and more stable source of income.

It wasn't easy: I got a job as a dishwasher then, after six months, a job as a cook for a year, then I landed a job as a sales person in a jewellery shop, where I met an unexpectedly loyal and caring man.

He was a fellow Zambian, so we started getting to know each other and I realised it was a blessing in disguise that I'd met this wonderful person. Although he had a hectic schedule working for an airline, he made an effort to find time for me. We started seeing each other and, because it's a long-distance relationship, we still have space for ourselves. He proved to be a very good friend who stood by me through thick and thin. Sometimes I wonder about we humans' capacity to transform from someone who suffered a lot to someone who's cheerful, happy and positive just because of another fellow human being. I can say that if you lead your life the right way, the karma will take care of itself.

I am blown left to right by life's challenges but I still manage to come back fighting. Too many people go through life complaining about problems but I've always believed that, if you took at least 10 per cent of the energy you put into complaining and applied it to solving the problem, you would be surprised by how well things can actually work out. Complaining doesn't work as a strategy: any time we spend whining is unlikely to help us achieve our goals and it won't make us happier.

More than just a survivor

If you're like me, you don't want to live the kind of life where you're barely hanging on. You don't want merely to live out an existence, find a way to cope with your misery or just get by. Me, I don't want to be forever grappling with doubt, fear, insecurity and uncertainty. I want to live life with a purpose and on purpose. I don't want to become a calloused, bitter, vengeful and hopeless individual. If I need to go down due to fate or destiny then I am not going down without a fight. I detest the attitude of 'my situation will never be different because it's always been like this'! I broke out from my any self-defeating cycles or repeated patterns and habits and rose up from my circumstances and limitations.

Creating my own idea of legacy

I wanted to end this story with a distillation of how I felt about my life, but I guess it has no end even if I no longer exist. This story will be passed on to my children, to my children's children, and hopefully to coming generations. And when this happens, I will feel at peace and fulfilled, because I will know my life has come full circle and I am truly, but satisfyingly, spent.

Not a brick wall any more

For almost 19 years, I've been walking around with HIV, but it never deterred me from achieving my aim of leaving a legacy to my children and being an inspiration to others. However much of a cliché it is, the saying 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' is more than true. If I die before I wake up tomorrow, I will be happy knowing that I've truly spent my life, lived it and achieved my goals.

Regardless of your situation and circumstances, you can rise up and tackle your personal brick walls and leave something to inspire others never to lose hope and courage. Just pick yourself up, dust yourself down and try again.

#  Tomorrow I'll Try On a New Dress

##  Dayana Nalmeiad

It's still fresh in my memory: the image of my mother looking at herself in the mirror as she got ready to go out. She was naturally pretty, and even more so with make-up. Even when I was little, I used to try on her dresses, shoes and handbags. I used to look in the mirror and picture myself just the way I am today: tall, with shiny long hair, beautiful make-up, high heels, silk dresses, diamond earrings and necklaces, red lipstick, French nails, and a shiny new Bentley outside my villa – and so, so famous.

Because I was so in love with fashion, I knew that I wanted to work in the industry. But I wanted to do the sort of things that women don't usually do in fashion, not be some dappy creative – well, I couldn't be that anyway – no, I wanted to run things; I wanted to have things done my way. I don't know why I wanted this so much, but it was important to me to be 'terribly important' and I knew I would be miserable if I didn't achieve it.

After I graduated, I decided to leave my home country to seek better opportunities. It was the best decision of my life. It brought me fame, new friends and a husband. I learned about new cultures and everything worked so well. Soon I was the owner of a large _atelier_ , luxury offices and a store in the best location in town, and I employed many people. My life was one glamorous, high-society event after another as my clients sought my unique designs. Almost every night I was invited to a celebrity party, dinner, VIP event or fashion show. The only time I refused was if I needed to spend time with my son; my adorable boy. He was my reason to fight for everything I wanted in life; he was my daily motivation. Despite my crazy life, I never missed a single school drop-off.

The weekend was totally for my family. That was when I was the real me, without the cameras, make-up, magazines, gossip and gala dinners – it was just me spending time with the two loves of my life – until life decided to show me a different side; a side where there's no light, no hope, and no certainty about a better tomorrow.

Well, that was what I thought at first when I realised what was about to happen. I cried for days on end. I cried until my eyes looked like a prize-fighter: not just that, but one who has lost. I asked the universe how I was going to get through it, and the answer came: 'You will. You're strong.'

So many of us have never gone deep into ourselves. We inhabit our bodies as if they're an afterthought, the way we might live in a rented room in a community that's not up to our standards. Slowly, over time, I convinced myself that I was actually learning how to be capable of more. Don't think for a second that I'm complaining about my time in here because I truly believe that there's something very profound in the experience. I believed that it would teach me a new tomorrow, so I started to look at the positive side, and to live in the present.

That's how I start every morning of my day here. The problem is that we have so little tolerance for uncomfortable feelings that I'd try to escape from facing them. But, instead of crying and complaining, I decided to fight against my thoughts and find a way to survive the pain that lived inside my heart. It means I had to stay with myself when, probably for my whole life, I've always run away. I used to ask God all the time, 'Why me? Why did this happen to me?' then I almost immediately got the answer: 'Believe it or not, it happened to you because you are important to me and I want to help you change.'

Time passes slowly here but I've learned so many wonderful things: things about God, about my faith, my religion, my family, motherhood and my beloved son. I've learned about real friends and I've learned that, even when things aren't happening the way we think they're supposed to, the answer is actually always there.

Right now, I'm going through the most unimaginable pain of my life, but I know I have to be strong enough to accept this paradox. When you go through pain, it motivates you to learn, to understand, and to open yourself up to the infinite possibilities of God's wishes. All the time I've been in here, I've never lost hope, and my faith has only increased.

I don't know how many times I've asked God to forgive me, assuming that he's somehow upset with me but, again, this action of asking God for forgiveness has taught me how to supplicate to God, how to talk to God, how amazing he is and how precious it is to set a time to pray.

It's taught me how strong and powerful it is to pray both for myself and others, because, when you know yourself on such a deep level, you also know others, and it becomes hard to condemn them when they get carried away by emotions or hatred because you've seen the same in yourself. This is how I've been able to make peace with what happened to me. The situation has made me learn that it's dangerous to point the finger of blame at someone; to identify them as 'bad' or 'wrong'. Only God can judge us, because he's the most merciful.

The hardest thing has been learning how to survive without my other half – my son – the little person who depends on me for everything. This was my biggest fear and I didn't know the answer. I was just a mom caring for my son and trying to honour the entire range of my emotions, even my despair and heartbreak – in fact, especially my despair and heartbreak. It meant acknowledging each of those feelings – my desperation, ideas, faith – and facing what comes with the full force of a mother's heart.

I hope one day my son can forgive me, although I know that he's now learned how to eat alone, how to brush his teeth and many other things that mothers think their kids are incapable of doing without them – and once again, I realise that God really does know what he's doing.

I have no idea how long I'll be here, so I devote all my time to reading. I read about business, the fashion industry and management, and I fall in love more each day with the profession. I have the time to rethink every aspect of my life. All the things I swore I couldn't live without – the glamour, the parties, the VIP events, the magazine covers, the newspapers, the adverts, the gossip... there are too many people I have no desire to ever see again.

I've become convinced that there may be a purpose to this awful path I've been on – and maybe even a benevolent one. If you're having a run of bad luck, you can either tell yourself that you're being tortured or punished, or you can decide that you're actually being guided. I'm sure that tomorrow I will be capable of more, and that I'll return to my life and finally try on my new dress...

#  This Girl

##  Niki X. Argallon

Fear banished trust in my life. My only allegiance is suspicion. I have been butchered by my past, bludgeoned by my circumstances, and I am the girl who always asks.

Who will cry for the girl who knows it all but has nothing at all? Who will fix the spirit that is crushed into a million pieces? Who will rebuild the girl's life that is broken beyond repair? Who will hold the hand of the girl who's always dealt sorrow, and knows only violence? Who will comfort the girl who's never comfortable? Who will calm the girl whose life was chaotic and who's never known calmness at all? Who will sympathise with the girl who always gets blamed for everything?

Most of all, who will save the girl who cannot save herself from her own self destruction?

It is only I. I, struggling every day to fight off the things that I caused to happen while my tears dried up and numbing the cold rock that lingers in my heart. It is only I warding off the white-hot rage that rises from my soul. I stand alone and die a thousand deaths, though never yet a permanent one.

But, then again, this girl stands as it is only through betrayal and devastation that I'll find the ultimate truth. All the things I used to think of as necessary to my survival have been revealed as nothing more than dross. Complacent luxury consumed by the fire of fury in my heart as all the pain and hurt burns back down to the deepest of recesses of my soul.

It is written that every heart has its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy. But, within every heart there exists a special place, a place where the hopes and dreams of my soul soar unchained by logical and physical entrapments. Not everybody has the mind to visit this unique place as you need a strong sense of mental and emotional stability to go there.

But this is my special place; a place where the impossible flourishes; where my hopes and dreams survive the inferno and destruction of reality to become the immense wonder that draws me forward to hope and believe again. Thus, my hardship today has uncovered one of my few treasures in life, and this is where my heart, my strength and my faith lie, where nobody can reach them, and it's this that's made this girl no longer ask 'who will?'

#  Tomorrow – The Possible

## Padmaja

The world is divided into optimistic and pessimistic people. Tomorrow can be viewed in different ways based on our experience of life today. There is an enormous difference between today and tomorrow – a distance that cannot be measured. The past cannot be changed, and our future cannot be predicted. So let's make our today beautiful, which will give us a reason to live our unpredictable tomorrow. We should always try to live in the 'now', which is important for the tomorrow of our lives. It is not what we've done in the past that will affect our present; it is what we do in the present that will redeem our past and thereby change our future.

For me, tomorrow is always a new beginning – a new start, new hope, and a second last chance. Newton's Law of Attraction states that every action has an equivalent and opposite reaction, the impact of which can be limited to today or passed on to tomorrow, so it always lies within you how you want to see your future. We can try to fill ourselves always with hope, patience, dreams, sacrifice, positivity and a sense of responsibility so that we can design the tomorrow we dream of living in. We can dream endlessly, hope for the best to come, and always be prepared for the worst.

'Life is like a rollercoaster,' my mother used to say when I was doing my maths. I said to myself, 'Oh god! Give me power not to use my power to distract from my aim.' I was 16 then and full of hopes and dreams. I had no responsibilities – nothing – I was just free like a bird who flies high, smells the fragrance of the first raindrop or becomes part of the rainbow.

I used to dream of flying an Airbus, so I decided to study aeronautical engineering to make my dream come true. Then something happened which turned our lives upside down. My mother lost her job and, along with it, the money she'd invested in the company. She was bedridden. My father passed away 15 days later and we three sisters, along with my mother, were thrown onto the street. We moved from the city to a village, where we started work on a small tea stall and a garment shop in order to survive.

I didn't want my family life to be like this so, after working day and night for a year, my sisters and I asked the shop owner if we could join night college to continue our education. Since I couldn't afford to fulfill my dream of studying aeronautical engineering, I chose an inexpensive professional course. My older sister got a scholarship to pursue medicine and my younger sister studied for a bachelor's degree.

After five years of hardship we all came out with flying colours. My older sister started practising as a doctor and my younger sister, with a master's in computer sciences, started working for software companies. I obtained a professional degree in accountancy and worked as a chartered accountant and a US-certified accountant. I cannot say this was the happy ending. After ten years, again I landed in a financial crisis and was forced to send my only son back to India to pursue his education.

Why am I telling you all this now? I felt I could share my life. I never lost the will or lost hope to win my tomorrow. Sometimes I am insulted by others around me, but I think that, irrespective of the opinions of others, change should begin inside you.

Tomorrow is not just the day after today; it's the near future. Tomorrow is when you can make up for the things you couldn't do yesterday or today. You can still reach out to it. There's always time to draw it nearer to you. It can be designed, redesigned, created and recreated – if you wish.

Being a people lover, I always made sure that I knew my 'now'. I will observe, will dwell and will understand all that's happening around me. In order to bring a difference to my tomorrow, I need to experience my 'now'. How can you make you tomorrow successful without a 'now'? It's the beginning point for the future – there is no future without a past and a present.

Always remember your dream should represent you because you are the result of everything that's taken place and will take place. I want the world to be a better place to live in, where all are filled with new hopes, passions, humanity, no prejudice, no drugs, no vengeance, no regrets and no hate. Always try to help each other. Don't rebel; rather, build up a talent. Love each other without limits, regardless of whether you will receive love back in return. Try to give from your nothingness. Push yourself through with a smile, even in times of adversity. Always be the first to stretch out your arms to those who are abandoned and lonely.

For our tomorrow to be a promising one, we need to first believe in ourselves. Even if the whole world doesn't believe in you, continue to believe in yourself. Make the impossible possible. Change the 'no' to 'yes'. Make the 'cannot' a 'can'. The fear of yesterday's failures shouldn't stop you from facing the challenges of tomorrow. After all, a ship is safe at port, but that's not what the ship was built for, is it? So, break your shell. Lose the fear of losing and dare to face the consequences. Even if you fall, stand up and prove to the world what you are.

Without dreaming of a beautiful tomorrow, Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela and Dr Jose Rizal could not have got freedom for their countries. Try.

Humans are blessed with abundant wisdom, but what is the point of wisdom if it doesn't help us overcome our obstacles? Once a problem is solved, it's amazing how simple it was. The question is, are we ready to solve our problems?

You don't have to climb a mountain to measure its height. Likewise, in order to change your tomorrow, you don't have to know the hurdles beforehand. In order to achieve, you must keep on moving. Never look back until you reach your finishing point. Tomorrow is a journey from the present to the future. On our way, we may have to adapt to new situations, a new climate, a new environment. Open your eyes and seek the blessings that are offered to you.

Always remember each step you are taking is enriching something that is very important. While you're facing your tomorrow, learn to be generous. Don't punish yourself if you slip up. If you need help, don't hesitate to ask. We need 'will' to fight for the right cause. Every day teaches us a lesson to face tomorrow. As far as wisdom is concerned, imagine you are Solomon and, for power, think you are Alexander the Great.

From my perspective I always know what my tomorrow should be like. I have a clear picture of the dream I wanted to achieve. I have the courage to achieve or strive to achieve my dream irrespective of the hardships. I made a point to make the right decisions at the right time by using my wisdom and vision. I always tell my tomorrow that I alone have to win my victories.

I hope you'll see your tomorrow from a different perspective after this long conversation. Be a role model. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you a fantastic tomorrow.

#  July 24th

## J.B.

How can it be that the same date that made you feel super-excited one year happens to be your worst nightmare the following year?

Tuesday 24th July 2011

On this blessed day, my pregnant sister and I got up and took our breakfast as usual. We watched a movie – it was _Prison Break_ – but then, suddenly my sister started writhing and screaming in pain. I didn't know what to do but her screams got louder. She said it was the baby, so I picked up my phone and called a taxi. We rushed to the hospital, where the nurses took her straight to the delivery room, leaving me alone in reception.

I was terrified. I paced up and down the corridor, biting my fingernails, unable to calm down or think straight. It was the first time in my life I'd ever faced this situation. I picked up my phone to make a call, then I told myself to be patient and wait a little more. Eventually I heard footsteps behind me and I turned to see this tall, good-looking man with brown eyes in a white coat. His face looked so serious, my heart beat faster: I didn't know what to expect. I almost passed out with fear but I kept calm though it was hard to control my feelings.

Before I could open my mouth, I saw the doctor's teeth through his big, wide smile and the next thing I heard was, 'Congratulations! She had a bouncing baby girl.' I was overwhelmed with joy and excitement!

'Ma'am and baby are perfectly sound,' he said. 'They're in room eight and she's asking to see you.'

140

I jumped at the doctor with delight and kissed his forehead while thanking him so much, then I got down on my knees and blessed God for the great miracle and the joy he just bestowed on my family. I picked up my phone and made that happy call: I told my sister's husband 'Congratulations! You're the father of a bouncing baby girl!' and I could feel his joy and excitement over the phone. In room eight, you could see the smile on our faces. I took the little soft, defenceless, beautiful creature in my arms and I could feel her heart beating. My own heart raced with joy; words can't explain what I felt. With the widest smile on my face, I told my sister, 'we will call her Blessing'. How things change...

Saturday July 24th 2012

It was Blessing's first birthday and we were preparing to have a party in my brother's home. By 6 p.m. everything was ready and the guests started arriving. I saw my parents so I ran to them and embraced them. Just like the year before, we were all overwhelmed with joy and excitement about Blessing and everything was sweet. Around 8 p.m. my parents said they wanted to leave, so I said I would spend the night with Blessing and join them at home tomorrow. They told me goodnight and left. Fifteen minutes later, I received a phone call and my life was never the same again.

It was my mum's number that came up on the screen, so I was expecting to hear her voice telling me they got home safely but it was a strange voice telling me that the owner of this phone just had a fatal accident and would I please come and identify the corpses?

I passed out. When I came round, I was surrounded by people fanning me and pouring water on me. I screamed and cried but nothing could bring my parents back. Only then I realised the worst had happened: my best day last year had become my worst nightmare this year.

Growing up, my dad always encouraged me to study hard. I told him I my degree in banking and finance so I had to quit. It was my dad who was paying my fees, but not just that: it was for him that I wanted to do well so I could take good care of him and my mum. When they died, I didn't have interest in anything any more. I lost all hope, but my brother made me realise I still had to pursue my dreams – if not for myself then for my brothers, and to please my parents no matter where they were.

I have always dreamed of having my PhD in banking and finance, and now I'm more than determined to achieve that because I know it's never too late. It was always my plan to settle in Australia. I want to get a good job there, get married and start a family. I came to Dubai to work and save enough money to travel to Australia but, unfortunately, I spent just one month in Dubai before I ended up in jail.

Thanks to my determination and optimism, my present situation doesn't break me but makes me stronger. My Australia dream still lives – it's currently on hold but it must surely come to pass. There is no sane person that lives without thinking of tomorrow. I know my tomorrow must be greater than today because I will do what it takes for my tomorrow to be in Australia, living and pursuing my studies, enjoying the seasons, going shopping, and realising all that makes me happy. I know more than most people that tomorrow is unpredictable and full of both pleasant and unpleasant surprises, but I will always aim for the best.

When I think about Australia, I think about being in my winter clothes in the snow with my husband. Hopefully we'll have a boy and a girl – we will name our boy Nasser and he'll look exactly like me: tall, with small eyes and luscious lips, and our princess will be called Kina. She will look as handsome as her dad: tall, with a long nose, thick eyebrows, blue eyes and long beautiful hair. During summer we'll go to the beach or the cinema together; maybe we'll go travelling. I will open a business for my siblings back home and I'll smile to myself over and over and say that this is all I have ever wanted. This is my tomorrow, thank you, Lord.

I've always strived to be at the top but the memory of July 24th 2012 always tries to slow me down. It's an everlasting stigma. Still, I tell myself that tomorrow is another day and, as long as there's life, there's hope.

To hell with July 24th: I still have a lot to do and to achieve. Here's to tomorrow.

#  Tomorrow I Will Make My Sister Proud

## Bridget

She is my sister.

I am two years older than her and I've cherished her since we were small because she is strong, hardworking and brilliant. She used to come to my classroom at school just to see that I was OK. At the end of the day, we'd go home together, eat together and play together.

That doesn't mean we didn't fight. My sister always beat me because she was stronger than me, but she never allowed anyone to touch me: she always fought for me. She learned how to fight because of my family's background – I am from a polygamous home. I have sisters and brothers who don't love each other, which is why they used to fight almost every day.

I knew how to hide under my bed but, one day, when there was yet another fight, I ran to my hiding place and my sister came and found me. 'When are you going be strong?' she said. 'Come here and fight!' but I refused and started crying. She left me and went back to fight.

When we grew up, I tried to tell her that she wasn't a child any more and she really needed stop fighting. She understood and changed her ways. I travelled to Moscow to study, but she really missed me because she had no one to watch movies with and no one to watch the Moon with. We used to watch the Moon together outside my compound.

In the end, she went to university herself. She was always encouraging me to study and achieve my dreams. But I wanted to earn money, so I stopped my studies and started working in a bar. I called my sister to tell her and explain about my work but my sister went crazy! She never imagined that I would leave my studies and start work. For a good three months she refused to talk to me because she was so disappointed.

In the end, I decided to come back home and study again. My sister was very happy to hear this, and we studied together for a bit but, for me, it didn't work because I wanted to make money for my families. We were not rich – we didn't even have money for school fees. So I gave up my studies and started working again.

But my sister never gave up her studies and, while studying, she also had a job. She was always saying, 'I am a fighter'. She fought for her future. She didn't want to be like the others. There are fifteen of us, seven from my mom, but no one is educated. My sister wanted to be the first in the families to get her education. She's the last born in all the families, but she's gone further than all our older siblings.

When I saw the way she fought for her future, I became strong too, and I started to fight for my own future. My sister was very happy to see that. My whole world changed because of her; she is my pride and joy. She always likes to say: 'don't stop fighting and don't sit and expect manna to come from heaven. Go and do something and for your future: fight to achieve your dream.'

She doesn't have time for people who aren't serious in life. She doesn't care how much money she spends on books because she likes to read. My mum loves her too much because she always makes her proud. She is a planner. She plans with people who are really serious in life. Anyone comes close to her always feels successful. My sister doesn't believe in the past, but always focuses on the future.

My lovely sister is the first person I'd like to see when I reach my Motherland, my country, Nigeria. I can't imagine the moment I first see her again. When I think about it, I feel a rest in my heart. I'll drop my bag and run to her. I'll give her the tightest hug and the sweetest kiss. I'm looking forward to that day when I'll feel the warmth of her strong arms all round me and, at that moment, I'll tell her how much I love her and how much I've missed her, and how I was really dead without her.

I think I'll cry because of emotions and the fact that I've been separated from her for a long time and you know what? I will gather all the strength in the world to carry her up and show her just how much she really means to me. The first conversation I'll have with her will be, 'Dear sister, you don't know how my world felt empty, lost and meaningless without you.'

I'll tell her how much I've changed, professionally and emotionally, in the time we've been separated. I'll tell her all the skills I've acquired in the correction institute where I've been for all these years. I'll tell her, 'Sister, I have learned how to be patient. You know how hot I was before.' I didn't used to have the word 'patient' in my life! I've learned how to be strong, how to be serious, how to tolerate others, how to stand in life, how to approach people and especially how to fight for the future.

I've learned how to manage my money or, even better, I've learned that I can save my money. I don't need to waste it any more. I've learned how to get on with different types of people and different characters and I've learned manners. I want to use my new skills to improve society; I want to make my sister and my families so proud.

My sister, my sister, my sister! When I'm out, I dream about building her a house wherever she wants. I'll put in glass windows and furnish it with gold and mirrors. I'll paint the ceilings sky blue, and surround it with bodyguards. I'll buy her the best car in the world and a ladies' boutique in the USA. I want to make her feel like the princess she really is.

In society, I want to build a school and an orphanage. I'll employ the jobless and send the poor to school to give them hope for tomorrow. If I can, I'll build a hospital for orphans and the poor, and treat them all for free. I'll help widows get good jobs and make sure their children don't suffer. I'll make sure everyone has a roof over their heads and give them the best education.

My sister, my sister, my sister! I will make my sister proud.

#  Chasing My Dream

## Aareev

Am asleep? Am I awake? Or this is a dream? Is this a dream or not? As if I know what a dream is. It doesn't look like a dream. I heard a dream is like a fantasy, so how do I distinguish between a dream and a fantasy? However, this is not a fantasy; it is not a dream: it is reality. Future... my future... my destiny... my hope... my wish... my passion.

What a wonderful day! The sun is laughing. When I see the sun in the morning, I feel that he smiles a shy smile. As the day passes, the smile changes to a laugh and, by evening, the sun is tired. When the sun laughs, the flowers dance. Now flowers are dancing so me too... oh, dance. Dance is my soul, my blood, my body, my brain... I will dance till my last moment. What a wonderful idea: dancing till your last moment! When my soul will dance on my last breath, I will dance with my body. Wow, what an imagination!

Not every death brings sorrow. I remember in one family how, when someone died at the age of 104, people looked relieved and happy. Departure not only brings sorrow, it may bring happiness, but that happiness doesn't last so long. HAHAHA... am I a philosopher? Maybe?

I am imagining people standing near my bed – my family, my friends and my well-wishers. Who is sobbing there? Someone is crying oh... sympathy waves are wandering like a wind. Eager, anxious: all are just waiting for my departure. How scary and uncomfortable to stand near a person who is just about to say goodbye, and then suddenly wow!! I am standing on the bed. From where do I get the energy? I am dancing. I can't believe it: I am dancing and everyone is shocked. Embarrassed. And I am gone, gone for ever! What creativity. Do people laugh or cry that moment? That would be a world record in agony and pain – still I could finish my life with my passion and all the world will remember my death with a smile. It is really entertaining...

You know, this is the problem. The biggest problem as per my parents and teachers: lack of focus. I always I get this complaint. Everyone says I'm so easily distracted, but I'm not the only one who gets distracted. Everyone in the universe gets distracted during their prayers, food, reading, games, romance. Yes, we all get distracted. My mind always wanders around, travels all over the world and comes back. Sometimes my chorography is the same: all mix-and-match. Fusion. And I know people enjoy it, that's why it's called variety. Maybe that's a dream. I want to do different things in my life. So where am I? Oh yes, I am thinking about tomorrow. My future. It is only mine. It doesn't belong to anyone. I live with my yesterday. Live in today and live for tomorrow! It is my imagination. Imagination is connection; connection is reality; reality is life.

As a child, I was the only girl in the family and everyone had too much ambition for me. Anyone can dream or have ambition, but it should be about their own life as we have only one life, one career. How could I be a doctor, an engineer, a teacher, a scientist and a lawyer all at the same time? It is my life and it's only one life, which I can't divide into pieces, so let me chase my dream, and that is to become a dancer. That is my passion. It's built into my soul. My goal is walking through it... living in it....

Chasing my dream of being a great dancer is not the end; it is only the beginning. I grow with my passion. I start a dancing school which is meant for children of determination. I support and motivate them with affection and care. I make them aware of what they're capable of. I believe that they have additional power and a sixth sense. These children, who have a different way of showing ideas, are blessed. Society trains these children in basic things, but I believe in their ability. I support them to believe in themselves, in their confidence and show them how to reach to their goals, how much they maybe want to move their body. I involve them in creativity – creating something with their body and soul together. I believe that, without body, soul doesn't exist and, without soul, body doesn't exist. As if it is only my belief. But it's actually the universal truth. Everyone knows it. Dance is the form in which our brain, body, and soul work together. YES... Bravo! I can do it.

Teaching them dance, step by step. I do understand the hurdles I'll face. It's going to be difficult. When we try to control one person, ten will go the other way. But it's like teaching a toddler how to walk. Anyone would love to do that job. I am sure I may have to give 100 per cent effort to teach them but I love to take that challenge. I have that energy. I can. It is my passion. The thought of my students standing on a stage being applauded gives me goosebumps. They will show what they are capable of. They live like others; they run my school; they teach the normal children – it will happen. It is my aim; it is my destiny. My passion is my yesterday, my today and my tomorrow.

Oh my! Where am I? Without passing the middle of my life, I jumped to the end. No wonder! I am a fool! Yes, everyone thinks I am a fool and I think everyone is a fool except my mom – my mom, sweet mom, she knows me very well. She understands me very well. She knows me inside and out: my stupidity, my weird character, my feelings, my vision, my secrets – even sometimes I try to fool her. But within no time I realise that she is making a fool of me by acting as if she doesn't know anything.

By the way she is the one who made me chase my dream. She is the one who discovered my passion. She knows my passion to grow... flourish...

I used to hate her. How much I used to fight with her when I was a child. She used to force me to practise dance. If I had five minutes, she wanted me to memorise steps. I used to think she thought that the chief qualification to be Prime Minister was dance. Even Papa used to tell her to leave me alone, but she was adamant that, if I wasn't a dancer, she'd have no peace in her life – and I used to think about cutting her into pieces. Ha ha ha.... what a sweet mother! What a sweet daughter!

But at the end of the day I realised that my mom is always right. Her determination made me realise my passion, my dream and my aim, so now I agree that the universal truth is: mom is great!! Oh god, what is this again? I am thinking about dance, only dance. Why does the subject jump to my mom, dad, brother, family etc? I need to focus. Impossible. Tie my thoughts. Truly impossible. Tie myself. Utterly impossible.

When I compose, choreograph or edit, I forget everything. I forget my surroundings, forget the time, forget that I am alive. I live in each step, each move, each blink of my eyes, every breath... everything in lingering with it. What joy. The song... the rhythm... the harmony... the group... the stage... I am in it. When one dance finishes, I feel it was too short. I want to continue again and I don't want to stop. The clapping... the look of the people... there is happiness in their eyes. That is what my achievement is. That is where I live.

I want to pass that knowledge to my students, to society, to the world. Through me, with the grace of God, I will pass this inspiration over to the children who've been abandoned by society. I always believe it is not the children who are mentally retarded. It is the society who doesn't accept them that's mentally retarded.

How great to visualise the same children standing on the stage, not confused, not afraid, but confident. But I can read the fear, anxiety and embarrassment in the eyes of the audience. They are not confident, but I am. Maybe my students will make mistakes – it doesn't matter – that's why we call them children. Children are bound to make mistakes, and adults are bound to accept them.

A day... a day of my wisdom... a day when all my dearest and nearest will be proud of me. The happy tears in my mom's eyes, not because I am a great dancer but because of my students. They are the star. They are the great dancers. Yes nothing is impossible but, without effort and hard work, nothing is possible...oh, hard work... I am so lazy.

What is that? Someone is calling my name! 'Saffoo! Saffoo!' Oh, who is calling me? I don't like anyone disturbing me in my sleep! It's Nimi, the girl who inspired me. It's her passion, her dream, her tomorrow that I've been telling you about. Nimi talks to me every day, so it's become my dream, too. She's calling me again... miaow! Sorry! Didn't I mention that I'm a cat? Her pet. I hope her dream will come true – tomorrow.

#  Seat 32B

## Reem A.

The psychic flipped the cup back and asked me to drink one more coffee. I drank the second cup without hesitation as my best friend Emi watched. Awkward moment: the psychic looked at me with her forehead wrinkled and I couldn't tell if she was angry, confused or shocked.

'My darling, do you drive?' she asked.

'Yes,' I replied, thinking, _can't she see the car keys on the table in front of me? Is she blind?_

'Excuse me,' said the woman. 'Focus, please. This is really serious.' 'What's wrong?' I asked.

She looked deeply into my eyes and said, 'I'm sorry to tell you this, but you have one week left to live. You won't live till the eighth day.'

I stood up so suddenly my purse fell off my lap. In the background, I could hear my friend yelling at the psychic and her words echoed in my head.

'One week! One week?' I screamed. 'What are you saying? Are you insane?'

I didn't wait for her to say another word: I just ran to my car with tears streaming down my face, my friend right behind me. In the car, I told Emi not to mention what she'd heard to anyone, not even my sister, then I dropped her home and asked to be left alone.

I stopped in a 'no parking' zone under my building and, for the next two hours, I sat there, frozen, staring at the windscreen with my eyes wide open as memories flooded my mind in a retrospective view of my life. I saw the dreams I wanted to achieve so badly, the plane I was learning to fly, my family and my amazing parents whom I wouldn't get the chance to see grow old and, of course, my fear of meeting God with all my sins.

Suddenly a car horn blared. It was a police car asking me to get out of the no-parking zone. I reversed my car out, parked it in the garage and went straight to my room, hoping no one was home. Thank god the flat was empty. I lay on my bed, switched off my phone, reached for my iPad and started Googling: could what the psychic had said even be possible? I scrolled desperately up and down each page, reading everything over and over till I fell asleep.

Seven days later...

The countdown on my calendar reached zero. On Facebook I wrote a status update saying goodbye to everyone and asking for forgiveness, then I sent a text message to my sister apologising for everything I'd done to her, both intentionally and unintentionally. I asked her to tell Mum and Dad how endlessly I loved both of them and asked them to pray for me every day.

I'd never felt like this in my life – this feeling of fear that reached into my bones, and sadness that filled the entire room. My brain cells were frozen and my entire head was numb from over-thinking. I finally realised how attached I was to life and how much I wanted to live. I didn't know what to do. Should I go and hug my parents? Should I pray? Should I go to the hospital and check if I had a disease, or should I just keep crying until I was no longer there?

Two years later...

I'm writing this part feeling very optimistic, very powerful – and not dramatic at all! And I'm loving 'tomorrow' every single day of my life.

My dad still remembers the story of the psychic and he can't stop laughing about the fact that I believed her and made all that drama about dying and saying goodbye to everyone. Even my mum keeps making fun of me, saying 'next time, before you die, make sure you add us on Facebook!' My mum is hilarious.

But now my perspective of tomorrow has changed. To me, 'tomorrow' is another chance to fulfill all the dreams I had as a child. Having someone to believe in you is the nicest thing in the world; my dad is my hero and I love him endlessly. I think I'll be a good mother in the future because of everything he's taught me in life, both directly and indirectly. The direct lessons are those that are teachable and explainable, and I've followed most of them since I was a child. The indirect ones are the ones he gives me silently, and I get them, and they never fade away as they became part of my personality. Today I'm so thankful for them.

My dad is always the first to believe me and support me in anything in life. He always felt I was worth more, and I feel he's worth everything in life. In my worst times, he never judges or misunderstands me: he guides me to light, even if he's actually not happy with me. And, when I'm not being true to myself, he finds excuses for my actions and fills in the blanks. Apparently, he has the answer for every single blank in my life.

He knows my strengths and weaknesses and my fears. At my weakest point and in my darkest times, he's the only one who can cheer me up using the words only a father can use, and then everything that was upsetting me no longer does. I'm so thankful to be his daughter and I love God so much for that. Nevertheless, in my happiest moments or when I do something nice or pass my exams, he surprises me with gifts and praise, which plays a big role in motivating me more. He's so humble and kind but, at the same time, he's a fighter who never loses.

My father is my armour. Every time I fall apart he's there to gather me up. He gives my soul shelter and keeps it company until all my fears and threats are gone. He's my everything: my legend, my teacher, my strength and weakness. He never leaves my side. God, please bless my superhuman dad, and please protect him and Mom until we meet again in this life, and in life after.

I dream about making him proud. I can't wait for the day I'm released to get my commercial pilots' license and fly an Airbus 380 or a Boeing 777 on a regular basis. I dream of the day I'm wearing my pilot's uniform and heading to work with my Carolina Herrera fragrance wafting through the tunnel to the plane. It'll be a bright, sunny day in winter and I'll walk around the plane doing the pre-flight inspection. Then I'll proceed to the initial checks in the cockpit, switch on the flight controls and the engines, and check the fuel and oil levels.

I can't wait to ask if all passengers are on board, then finally proceed to take off. I'll put on my Dolce & Gabbana shades, release the brakes and ease open the throttle. I'm sure I'll feel the same butterflies I'm feeling right now just picturing the image. God, please make this day come faster: the day I put the plane on auto-pilot and start sipping coffee above the clouds – or maybe a day when the passengers start clapping and cheering because I get us safely through a rough patch of turbulence... oh wait, am I dreaming too far ahead?

My mum never wanted me to fly because she loves all of us (nine brothers and sisters) to the point she's terrified anything will happen to us. She loves us more than anything in the world: she's always by our side and she sacrificed a lot for us and Dad. Despite the fact that all of us could cause trouble sometimes, she always gave us a second chance and never tired of advising us or fixing us. She treats me like her friend, daughter and mum: she asks for my advice and she takes it. She's so playful and so cool, yet she struggled really hard to try and put me on the right track.

She understands me without words and she's with me when I'm thousands of miles away. She misses me when I'm not with her. Her company is the best: she makes me laugh, cry and smile all at the same time. My mum never gave up on trying to fix me, she never lost hope in me, and she never judges me at all. She has the soul of an angel. She never has hatred in her heart and she forgets all the negative things in me and tries to focus on the positive. She's my soulmate, and sincerely my source of life.

That's why I'll make both of my parents proud one day, and they'll forget all the mistakes I've made, as always, because they have good hearts and they believe in tomorrow. They taught me that positivity is a weapon that I must fight with every time I fall, and that negativity is a disease that'll kill me slowly. My father always says to forgive people in order to give yourself peace. He also taught me not to waste time and not to worry so much about everything. He tells me to be happy every moment of my life and to accept God's decisions because they'll surely be saving me from something worse.

It's all about the way you see things: for instance, if you see your problem as big then it'll be bigger in your head, and if you think there is no solution, then your mind won't work to find you one; that's why we have to have balance in life. Everything is linked: positivity brings happiness, and happiness brings success.

I've learned that you must always challenge yourself and challenge your brain, just like you exercise your muscles. The more you challenge your brain capacity and process, the more it will improve.

Dream without hesitation and have confidence in everything you do. Push yourself to the maximum every time you perform. Set priorities in your life and focus on them. Don't worry about the outcome because it will always be satisfying. Don't be scared of the future by trying to know it; instead, work to make it what you want it to be. As they say: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift, so give your all and live your life as if it's your last day. Be happy about today and make peace with your past. Always expect the unexpected, accept the disappointments and move on. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

I always tell myself never to stop trying: tomorrow I'll be a pilot, and nothing's going to change my destiny. One day I'll be the captain of an A380. I'll pick up the intercom and say, 'Good morning, this is your captain speaking,' and my mum, maybe sitting in seat 32B, will hear my voice and she'll leap out of her seat and run to the cockpit and finally be so proud of me. That's my dream of 'tomorrow'.

#  Tomorrow, We Are Outside

##  Sandra E. T.

I had a baby girl in a place full of fantasies; a place where I tell her stories about the real world; a magic space.

I tell her that outside is so beautiful, like the drawings she creates with her small hands. I think about how it will be for her outside, because she does not know anything. What will she feel when she sees the buildings, the animals, the trees and the cars; when she goes shopping or when she goes to the beauty salon? At the moment she only believes fantasies. I have become a storyteller.

How is this unknown world going to be for her? When I look at her, I can't stop thinking about how she's grown so much already, but her life experience makes it impossible for her to understand anything of my explanations.

When I shower her, I tell her that, outside, there's something called 'the beach' where her entire body can float in the water. She smiles back, telling me she believes me. In this world, I've learned to value myself more; to believe in second opportunities; how to be strong for my daughter and to help her to have a life as normal as possible.

Tomorrow we will be far from here. I may be afraid, but I won't let myself down because she makes me unstoppable. I'll make her see that life outside is full of magic because she believes that all is beautiful, just like in the fairy tales. Life can be a 'Cinderella' story; you only need to believe that tomorrow will be better than the day before.

Tomorrow, she'll go to a school; she'll be as big as the universe with values, love and understanding and, most importantly, she'll believe in opportunities and dreams. When I think that about the day I'll no longer be here, I'm not afraid because I wish for that day with all my soul. I wish that she gets to celebrate her birthday with a real party and real cake – not the one made out of biscuits that I make for her here.

Hallowe'en and Christmas are her favourite celebrations. At Hallowe'en, I cover my face with white powder and back-comb my hair. It's so sweet to see her running and shouting 'Zombie! Zombie is coming!' Can you imagine how amazing it will be for her to experience the real Hallowe'en?

Christmas is so special. It brings back so many memories for me. I always tell her that, if she's a good girl, Santa Claus will bring gifts for her. She knows that Santa Claus can see her; that he knows if she is sleeping, he knows if she's awake, he knows if she's been bad or good – we all sing the song 'Santa Claus is coming to town', no?

The night before Christmas, I put chocolate, candies and lollipops inside her shoes. When she wakes up on Christmas morning and sees them, she jumps out of bed full of happiness because Santa Claus came to visit her. She asks me if I saw him or talked to him and this touches my heart deeply. I explain to her that Santa Claus lives in the North Pole and that one day she'll get to see his house. She will go crazy, just like when she puts both her little feet inside my shoes to ski.

I tell her I'm sorry that we don't have snow in Dubai. It's only cold countries like the one we'll move to that have snow. Just wait till she wakes up and finds the roofs of the houses all white. What will she say? For the past five years this world has been painted rose-coloured – her favourite colour – only for one.

For her, I breathe; for her, I feel that my life goes by. Even though I haven't seen my past life for years, she has all my time, and this doesn't make me unhappy – in fact, the opposite. It fills my soul with deep emotion because tomorrow will bring new people into my life and that of my sunshine.

Tomorrow, she will meet her siblings for the first time. She knows a few details about her brother's life, such as how he loves to play football (he will be the next Valoteli!) and PlayStation – these are the things that make her big eyes even bigger.

But when I think about her meeting her sister, I wonder how many fights I'll have on my hands, especially when she starts to discover that the two of them have similar likes – her sister loves make-up, perfume and high heels, but she doesn't like anyone to touch her things. Just imagine what will happen when she begins to see this treasure. My little lipstick-lover.

It will take me back to my past and future, emotionally and physically. But I will be strong for all these challenges. Life gives us so much, yet takes so much, so I'm determined not to lose one more thing. I'm so happy to think that she'll get to see the real world – a world that she currently only knows through words. I'm already planning in my head how it's going to be. I see myself walking with her, allowing the sea to touch her feet, showing her a sky full of rainbows and proving that the stories I once told her are real. I tell her that the world has beautiful shops in which you can browse and try on the clothes and, if you like them, you can buy them.

I tell her that the trains are so big some have ten or more carriages, that they go super-fast and that you're allowed to choose where you sit. What seat she will choose? Surely she'll enjoy the window to look at the view. I've told her that, outside, there are coins of 10, 20 and 50 cents, and notes of 10, 100, 500 and 1,000 Euros, all with different sizes and colours, and she will be able to buy things with her money. Television, phone, radio, computer, toys and an iPad like the one I made for her out of cardboard on her birthday. I can see her reaction when she has money in her hands. The shine in her eyes will be like the stars, but what will she think once she sees it all? Sometimes these are the thoughts that churn in my head and fill me with worry.

But I'm stupid to think like that. Of course, she'll think 'My mami was right! All is real and beautiful.' It's incredible the way she sees it all, given she's only five. Sometimes you wouldn't believe that her only world is the dark one. She's so madly in love with chocolate milk that I tell her she'll turn brown, and she says 'Mama, my skin won't change colour for drinking chocolate milk!' She always tells me that, but I can also say that she also always tells me that that's the last one she'll drink – and how many times I have heard that?

When I watch her go to bed and say to her drawings, 'Bye, world, see you tomorrow,' I start thinking about when I might get to leave this world. What should I be counting? Years, months, days, hours or seconds? I don't know. I only know that 'tomorrow' I'll be in Europe – maybe by the canals of Venice or on the Amalfi coast, eating ice cream, my favourite food, which will make her go crazy.

I can't wait to see my dear Italy, my _Vecchia Napoles_ (Old Naples). I can see us walking in Via Roma holding hands and visiting her sister and brother's favourite shops. I'll take her to see Vesuvius and the Galleria Umberto, which has a glass roof 57 metres high. We'll go to the Pizzeria Brandi, where pizza margarita was invented and, in Tonino's kitchen, we'll make a mess as we make homemade pizzas with cheese, pepperoni, ham and fresh tomato. She'll be helping to make the tomato sauce and flour, and let's not even talk about the fights I'll have with Joan, Pascuale and Lina for spoiling her. _Mamma mia_ , when I cook lasagna, pasta al pesto, bolognese and the pasta with Nana's secret recipe! But what I'm really looking forward to is to show her a fish with a big tail and eyes as big as hers.

Do you think that darkness means that you cannot dream? No, nothing will stop you from teaching true dreams to your child, even in the worst moment in your life.

I still haven't mentioned her name and the meaning of it. Her name is Emman, which means 'believe' because I believe that tomorrow will be amazing, and all of us will be together. Tomorrow the sun will always rise; never allow your bad moments to stop you from looking towards the best tomorrow.

#  Building a Better Tomorrow

## T.S.A.

In my perfect tomorrow I will be living in Spain and working as a marketing director. I love the Spanish language and can't wait to learn it.

I was born in a small community in Cameroon. We had no electricity and water and there wasn't even a road. We were so backward that I didn't know how to switch on a television until I was 14, and I had no idea how cars moved on the road or what electricity poles were, but we were happy. People who'd visited a big city would come back and tell us that there was light, cold water and many, many cars, and I'd think that it must never get dark in cities; it must always be like afternoon.

I'm one of six children and my mom is a single mom. She did everything in her power to take good care of us and give us an education. I'm so proud of her for that. In my primary school, we lived in our teacher's apartment. Early in the morning, we'd go down to the stream and fetch her water and do her house chores, then we'd study for three or four hours. When we were back home during the holidays, we helped my mom with her farm work. She would wake us up at 3 a.m. and, on the three-hour trek to the farm, I'd be walking in my sleep.

During the school holidays I tried to explain to my mom how difficult school was. I told her that I did a lot of housework, then I went for classes and the teacher was always scolding me. I was sixteen and fed up with it, and was thinking about getting married. My mom was so disappointed. She told me not to forget what happened to my older sister: when she was fifteen, she chose to leave school and get married. Soon, she fell pregnant, but the baby was late coming and, when it was a week overdue, my sister got a high fever.

My mom was so worried she decided to take her to hospital in the city but, on their way, my sister passed away. The baby her in stomach struggled for a while and also gave up, and that's how I lost both my elder sister and my nephew.

So, my mom cried when I told her I wanted to get married, too, and I was ashamed to think that she thought I was a failure. I realised then that she had a lot of confidence in me and had such high hopes for me, so I took courage from her and went back to school. My brother blamed my mom for sending me to school: he said it was a waste of money.

At that time, I had a lot of dreams. I played the American Green Card lottery because I wanted to go to the USA and change my family's life. If I'd have won, it would have been amazing: I would have got a good job in management in the USA and sent money to my mom. I'd have got her out of the village and built her a house in the city. I'd have opened an export business for my brother and, in time, I'd have built a school in my village and given scholarships to kids who needed them.

I really needed that Green Card, but it never happened. Still, I didn't give up on my dreams. I kept on applying online for scholarships. I got one, but I had no sponsor so I couldn't take it, but I kept on trying and searching for new opportunities.

When it rained, the house leaked badly and we couldn't sleep. We'd have to move our mattress from one side of the house to the other so we didn't get wet. Without electricity everything was so cold and quiet. I knew that my mom needed a better life. I wanted her to be more comfortable in her old age, and I didn't want my nephews and nieces to go through what my sister did, or what I did. They were still little, and I really wanted them to have a better education than me, and to be able to have nice summer holidays. I didn't want them ever to regret being born, like I did when was young.

After I got my degree, I went to drop my CV with a company in another region and, on my way back, I met a guy who told me he'd got a job in Dubai and would be leaving in a week. I thought he was so lucky, but he said. 'why don't you go to Dubai and look for a job rather than wasting your time in our country where you won't ever get a proper salary?'

I said I'd have a look but that I didn't have money for a visa, so we exchanged Facebook details and he went to Dubai. A year later, he helped me with my visa, and I was super-excited that my dreams of travelling were finally happening. I had a visa for Dubai! My siblings were so happy! I told them I was going to look for a good job so I could improve all of our lives. I said I'd be away for at least three or four years until I achieved my goals. My eldest sister told me I was the light of the family; all their hopes were on me. Although I'm the last child, it made her believe there was a reason I was born.

My mom and everyone in my family was so shocked and disappointed when I ended up in jail, but they still have hope in me, which makes me happy and makes me dream even more. When something breaks you and doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger.

My dream now is to wait patiently for an open door. When I get out of here I'll go back home and search online for a scholarship to any European country. I'll continue my studies and get my Master's degree in human resources management. I'll work in a marketing department, where I'll have to put on beautiful dresses every day and do catwalk at the office. I'll look through the window and see the snow falling and tell myself how proud I am that this is finally happening.

My dream house will have glass windows and four floors. The first floor will be for my mom, the second floor for my brother and his wife, the third floor for my sisters, and the fourth floor will be for me and my future husband and children whenever we visit. Each floor will have three apartments. The backyard will have two swimming pools – one for kids and one for adults – and a big car park beside the house. I will decorate the house in white and green.

We will always be celebrating birthdays in the house and, when my sisters get married, I'll host a big party. My mom will enjoy the best of everything in her old age: cars, dresses, phones: everything. I don't want her to regret anything. I always hope for a better tomorrow because I believe determination is the key to success and, with God's intervention, my dreams will come true tomorrow.

#  How Will I Greet My Superhuman Tomorrow?

##  Carme Rai

HONG KONG

She was chatting one night with her cousin and some friends when her phone rang. Her mom's name appeared on the screen so, still smiling, she answered.

' _Hello mom! How's everything?'_

But she heard sobs instead of words and her smile suddenly froze. She couldn't breathe; it felt as if her blood was sucked out of her body. She could hear her heart beating as if it wanted to leap out of her chest. Her cousin Anne noticed her face change, and gripped her shoulder as if to tell her that she was there for her.

' _What happened?' she asked her mom._

Her mom answered in a trembling voice, 'I have cancer.'

We all have different beliefs, personalities and perspectives in life. Personally, I believe in superheroes. I believe that they exist and are living life among us, just like normal human beings. They make mistakes, they nag when they get angry, they have goals and dreams, and they have everyday lives, just like everybody else. They have their ups and downs, too, since they are also just trying to get through the day and hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

My very own superhuman is my mom. I haven't seen her for almost a decade. I haven't been in my home country for so long that one question lingers in my mind: how will I greet my superhuman when I see her 'tomorrow'?

My mom was diagnosed with stage 2B breast cancer in 2008. She underwent a mastectomy the same day she found out she had cancer. Then she underwent chemotherapy once a fortnight for twelve weeks.

All I had was a photograph of her while undergoing the treatment. There were a lot of tubes connected to her frail body, and I couldn't help but notice that she no longer had her precious hair. It was a side effect of the treatment. She said it would grow back one day.

Looking at the photograph and seeing her going through all that pain and distress, my whole body started shaking. I really wished that I could have been there for her. I really wished that I could take all that pain away, and I was scared that I was going to lose her. I had so many questions going on in my head: will she make it? How long will she be able to take it? Will she be around when I make it home?

After chemotherapy, she underwent radiation therapy. She bravely endured the pain and followed every single piece of medical advice that her oncologist gave her. She took her medication strictly and followed her diet. I called her every other day. Each phone call, all I wanted was to hear her voice and to hear from her that she was fine and that everything was OK. I held her words dearly in my heart; her voice made me feel calm again. It gave me reassurance somehow that I wasn't going to lose her that day.

Yet, despite the fact that she was fighting for her life, she was the one who was trying to take my fear away. She gave me the courage to go on. She explained that she might be suffering and feeling pain today but that, tomorrow, she would be fine and free of pain and would be happy. After a few years of regular check-ups, she was finally clear of cancer cells and was declared a cancer-patient survivor.

Today she still takes cancer medication; it will be for the rest of her life in order for the cancer cells not to come back. She still has regular check-ups with her oncologist, but she is free of pain and her precious hair is now shoulder-length. She supports and takes care of herself, her family and her friends whenever she can.

My mom is the one who taught me how to take my first step, healed my wounds and helped me get up when I fell down. She taught me right from wrong; she's been my best friend and my backbone during my darkest days. She stayed by my side and never left me; she was my strength whenever I was weak and wanted to give up. I know life has never been easy for her but she always assures me and shows me that everything is OK and everything will work out just fine.

She inspires me so much that whenever I think of 'tomorrow', it gives me confidence and peace. I have seen her suffer; I have seen her tears whenever something happened that really touched her, or hurt her physically or emotionally, but I've also seen her wipe those tears away and carry on. She taught me that some things – good or bad – are just meant to be. In life nothing is perfect. We are born to fight and survive. Use situations to your own advantage. Get through them and be a better version of yourself. Let life make you stronger. Stop looking back: just keep moving forward.

My superhuman and I share the same dream. We both look forward to the 'tomorrow' when I will step inside the house and scream with excitement that I finally made it home. She looks forward to me being with her and my husband, my children, my dad, my sisters and especially my cousin Anne, her husband Thane and my aunt Helen, who have also been my rock on this whole journey. They will never fail to give me their love and support and in every way.

Mom's looking forward to the day when we can travel on holidays together and go to places we've never been. She's looking forward to going for a picnic by the beach and just enjoying the day and feeling how lucky we are to be there. She's looking forward to my freedom with my family by my side. For everything that she's been through – all that pain and struggle – for me to be physically there with her is all that she asked each day. 'Tomorrow' gives her hope that, if I don't make it today, she knows one 'tomorrow' we'll be seeing each other again.

My mom made it through everything that she faced without me by her side. She played her cards well, took one step at a time and remained optimistic. She always believed that tomorrow is a new day and she never gave up. She never lost hope that everything would come to an end. Just as the sun sets and everything gets dark, she knows that tomorrow it will rise up like a ball of fire once more and will shine throughout the day.

So, if you asked me how I would greet my superhuman when I see her tomorrow, my answer would be: I'll be speechless. I won't know what to say! I know I'll cry, but then there's one thing that I'll definitely do: I'm going to hug my mom, squeeze her tight and never, ever let her go.

#  You and Me

##  Massiel D.C.

Let's take a walk through life.

When I see your eyes full of light and wonder, I feel alive. It's like you've been always by my side. I only think about me after I met you; the 'before' has become blurred. I can't lie: I love the effect you have on me. Happiness cannot be hidden.

I remember the first time I saw you. My heart stopped for few seconds, then I thought what's wrong? You don't recognise my voice? I know I don't have a cool accent – sometimes I think I sound like Sofia Vergara in _Modern Family_ – but let's be honest: it's not that bad!

I had many dreams and fantasies. I still have a lot (you know that I love to watch drama) but I never imagined that we would meet the way we did. This is you: you always like to be the centre of attention.

I remember the first time you talked to me. I was in shock, you kept talking to me but, inside, I couldn't believe it: is it real, this conversation you're having with me? And how can we forget our first date? Oh, why is it so difficult to get the right words out in situations like this? There are so many firsts with us. Each one better than the other, but what can I say? You make everything magical. You are blessed. You have the gift of giving love and making others happy. Every morning I look forward to seeing you to say good morning to you. Because it's an affirmation that new adventures lie ahead. When I hold these hands, my heart melts; when you smile to me, I lose track of my thoughts and sometimes I even forget that I'm angry with you, but I'll never tell you that. It's not good to give away all my secrets! I love to listen to your stories, to the world you create for me. Sometimes they don't make sense – but who cares? The sweetness and kindness you have make me wonder how you see your 'tomorrow'.

Will we argue about where we will live? Maybe you'll like London but I'll want to go back to the Caribbean. Or maybe you'll fall in love with the beaches and never want to leave the tropical weather, our house near the sea or the intoxicating atmosphere where people dance and sing in the streets, always smiling; always happy.

Will we eat our favourite food while we watch movies at home? Because everything can be fixed with pizza and a glass of Coca-Cola with ice... or I maybe I'll become a long-lost sister of the Kardashians and eat only salad. Will you come shopping with me? Or I will I start to love that sofa more than you and we'll debate which channel to watch? The Cooking Channel is a good option. You might learn something helpful. I'm just saying – nothing personal. A break from cooking might be nice!

Will purple still be your favourite colour? Please don't choose light green. I don't like that. What will we do? Maybe you'll learn how to dance _samba_ by going step-to-step on my feet.

What will our day-to-day life be like? Will you still fall asleep on my arm and tell me to face you? Will we still go out for dinner? Or will it become a monthly event, and then only on special occasions? Will you still tell me everything? One thing I know for sure is that you'll make fun of me on Facebook and I'll be reading your comments about our conversation during last night's dinner, memes included, and let's not forget the pictures you'll post on Instagram (that's not my best angle!).

Just like anyone in life, I have mixed emotions, fear and insecurities about us. Am I going to be able to keep up with you? Am I going to give you the right advice? You know that I'm not good with words – just be patient with me and we'll remain together as long as we can. Will I still be a good listener, because this one of the things you love about me, or I will start to misunderstand everything that you do or say?

We will lose our connection? If so, we'll have to go on a trip to 'magical India' before we become like Tom and Jerry. India's known as the place of internal peace, finding the real you and meditation and, once we're there, let's also enjoy the spicy food – why not? Let's pack and go!

Will we fight? Yes of course. Will we argue about stupid things? Yes, we will, but we will find a way to make up after a few days or weeks, for sure.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring and I honestly don't want to know because life with you will not be boring. It will be full of surprises, and I love surprise: you are the best one. Besides, you are planning your next move and there's a lot to discover – a whole world to explore. I have my dark moments, when I lose hope; when I feel that there's no light at the end of the tunnel; where trust becomes an unknown word. But I decide to look further – to zoom my eyes – because it's not about hoping for the best, it's about doing something to make that happen.

For someone to look good she or he needs to make a decision. It's the circle of life, another tomorrow. I've chosen you and there's no way back.

I can tell you that life has its good and bad moments – some happy, some sad. Somebody once told me that life is like a mountain, with ups and downs. In the down, you cannot give up; you need to become stronger and better. Keep in mind that it's not about how you fall down; it's about how you stand up on your feet again because sometimes the way down feels as if it doesn't have an end, and the way up will make you even more afraid because you don't know what you'll find at the top.

Tomorrow you need to be the best that you can be; the fighter in you will go for what you put in your mind and you will work until you achieve it. If life were a straight line, it would be boring because it would be always the same. And that is not you. I'm not afraid of tomorrow as long as we're in it together. Let's plan for the future.

I only want that you dream: dream big, super big, and live your dreams, my princess, the love of my life, the little sunshine that brightens my days with sweet melodies, ideas and memories.

I do not know what you will become tomorrow. A doctor, an actress, a teacher, an artist. I can see talent in your drawings; maybe a dancer because you can move (you have rhythm, girl!) or a lawyer because no one can argue like you can, trust me. I don't know if you'll tell me about your first love, your first kiss, or when you go on your first date. I hope he takes you to your favourite place. But one thing I know for sure: I will be proud. I am already. I hope you can tell.

I will always have your back. I cannot wait to hear or read what all what they will say and write about you. You will become the best.

The only thing I want you to know and not have any doubt about it is that I love you and I will always love with all of myself. I would not change anything I did in my life because even the smallest detail might change the fact I have you. You are and you will always be the best I have. That's why I named you Alyah.

Tomorrow is ours together. The sky is the limit. Reach for it.

#  Tomorrow, I Will Fly

##  Cathy Lilian T.

Guess what? I've only been on a plane once, and it was to Dubai.

When I was 16, I started working on a construction site. At first I was a site cleaner then a labourer, then I worked my way up through painter, mansion 'builder' and welder until I was finally an interior designer. I struggled, I learned and I survived day by day. I got married at 15 years old to a man who was 18 and we had five children in a row. I thought we were the happiest couple in the world – I believed that until the day he went to work and never came back: after eight years of marriage, he'd run away with a 'more beautiful and fantastic' woman, according to him, and left me a single mother.

But, thanks to that situation, I became stronger and braver. Although it hurt me a lot, it didn't stop me from pursuing my dreams to be a successful woman; the woman I always wanted to be.

Because I was the only woman working on the construction site, I didn't have a lot of girlfriends but I survived. It wasn't easy having no one to pour my heart out to, but I told myself it's not the end: I don't have to cry over spoiled milk. I still had to support my mum and children. For two years it was a rough road as I didn't earn enough so I decided to get another job as a waitress. I was working 12 hours a day and six hours a night, but I needed the money.

One day, a new engineer came to the site and, let me tell you, it was a blessed day for me! My heart raced when I saw him for the first time. When he was surveying the site he passed by me with his team and I could see he was tall, slim, smart and, you know, I couldn't even talk to him. I was a nobody with no class; too low even to say hi.

We worked together for nine months. He was different from everyone else: he gave everyone on the site a chance to prove their talent to him. Men and women were all equal to him. In the seven years I'd worked on the site, he was the first engineer to recruit women in his department, which gave me a chance to work with more women in the field.

One day at break time, he invited me for a cup of tea. I was so surprised I said, 'Me, sir?' and he said, 'Yes, you. Come to the canteen and have a cup of tea with me.' I laughed so he said, 'Don't you want to?'

From that day on, we talked a bit and slowly became friends. Later that month, he invited me to a dinner party. He said I should look elegant because it was only for the management team. It was an amazing party. I was the only person from the labourers' team there but it was a sad night for me because it turned out that it was his farewell party! He was a consultant and his contract had finished. He was to leave the next day. I couldn't show it, but it smashed my insides to know that he was leaving later that night.

He told me I was the most beautiful woman at the party, then he said, 'Don't take it the wrong way, but I want to ask you something. Will you be my girlfriend?' I said, 'How, when you are leaving tomorrow?' and he said that, if I said yes, he'd come back. It wouldn't be a goodbye. I burst into tears.

'Why me, Mr Engineer?' I asked, and he said, 'Please call me by my name.' I was so shocked I didn't say anything for a few minutes. Then he said, 'I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. If you can allow me to come back, please just say yes.' It was what I wanted but I was speechless. In the end, I said yes, and he said 'thank you' like I'd given him a Green Card to the USA. After that I didn't hear a thing. I left the party crying like a little girl who's lost her doll and the next day he was gone. But I trusted him and believed he would come back.

A month later, I got a SMS message on my phone saying, 'can we kiss?' It was from an unknown number. The engineer hadn't given me his number or taken mine, so I called back and got no reply. I was furious. Who would send a message like that and then not pick up? The next morning I went to work and he was back!

I saw him on duty. He was standing in front of me and I couldn't hug him or say anything. I almost died of shock and happiness. I couldn't work all day; I was trembling all over. After work we met and talked and, from there, we started hanging around together and getting to know each other. After six months he popped the question: will you marry me? Yes, yes, yes!

I wasn't expecting it that soon because people say it takes time to choose the right one. My parents were reluctant because they didn't believe a good-looking man like him, who was a foreigner and educated, would choose a person like me. My mom thought he would use me and drop me like my first husband did but I knew he was not that kind of man. I told her he was one in a million – one in a zillion! It sounds like a fairytale, but he loved me with my five kids and all my problems. He is a gift sent from heaven to save me and my children.

He is from Pakistan and I'm from Uganda and my family said his family would never accept me but, with love, respect and determination, we're still happily married to this day and he's the best dad to my children. We also have two children of our own, now nearly five and seven.

One day after three years of marriage he asked me which country I'd like to visit. OMG, was he serious? 'Dubai!' I shouted. He asked why and I told him I wanted to see the tallest building in the world and the dancing water fountains.

He said. 'Not now, my lady, but one day I promise to make your wish come true. Don't lose hope.' Years passed. We had ups and downs, but he kept reminding me that one day he would fulfil the promise he made to me. In 2016 he got a job in Dubai. He left me in Uganda while he came to Dubai for four months then he invited me to join him. I couldn't believe it when he sent me my visa and ticket. I was jumping for joy.

Now the show begins! At the airport, everything was amazing and new to me. I had to wrap my suitcase and go through all the security detectors, then all the beautiful ladies in uniforms were welcoming me and calling me madam. At the gate, I was still in a dream. I wanted to tell my mom and children everything that was happening to me. Just imagine a woman from a remote village woman going on a plane to Dubai. I tell you: my smile was to my ears.

On the plane, a beautiful attendant said, 'welcome on board' and another lady showed me my seat and helped me put my bag up. I still couldn't believe what was happening. I grabbed my phone and called my mom. She was still outside the airport waiting to see the plane go up. I told her to pray for me because I was so scared, and she told me to be brave. Then I called my husband in Dubai and told him I was on my way. He told me to take a picture of myself on the plane for him and said not to worry; he'd be waiting for me in Dubai.

I couldn't wait to see Dubai, the 'city of opportunities'. I got a job as a housemaid and I did it for one year, but then I had an accident which cost me my job. I wanted to work as a lifeguard so I trained and got a job as a lifeguard in a school. My husband and mum were so proud, but you can't boast about tomorrow because you never know what the new day will bring. One of my friends was coming to Dubai. She told me to pick her up at the airport. Never trust your friends: you work hard to get places and they work hard to put you back down. My mother always says 'a wise woman builds her own home but a foolish woman tears her home down with her own bonds' – and she is right. I tore my home into pieces because I trusted my friend.

I am the cause of my family's downfall. My husband worked so hard to lift me up and educate me but I didn't listen and now look where I am, all because I trusted my friend. Not all friends are bad, but I made a bad choice of girlfriend and she put me behind bars. Because of her I had to bury the dreams of my husband and me.

But this is not the end. I am not quitting. I've learned a lot of life skills here and I'll leave not just with a lot more knowledge but also with a spear to shoot for success.

Outside, I'm not going to be the same person. Both my family and my country will benefit from everything I've learned. I'll be a better mother and a better wife. I'll work smart and hard to pass my knowledge to my children, then to my country people. I can't wait to see my husband to apologise for the mess I made. I also want to apologise to my lovely mother and, most importantly, to my children. I hate that I haven't been able to be there for them when they needed me the most. I know we can't turn back time, but we can create new memories. It's never too late to sit down at the same table with my family and share a meal and laugh together. That's what I'm looking forward to. My next flight will be back home to my country, my motherland, the pearl of Africa, the land of love and harmony.

Today I am here. Tomorrow, I will fly.

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