50 Posts

Screenshot_2017-06-17-06-24-21

The extremely unintelligible title shows how my mind has rusted over time because of not writing here.

But I had to break this block that had built over time and kept on getting uncontrollably bigger. I want to talk about so many things and yet none is worth an entire post. I was writing my diary a few minutes ago and there I wrote, ‘the reason why I am unable to write something on my blog for a while is either I do not get the right words or I feel like I won’t be writing for the relevant readers’.

I think I was caught up in one of those loops where the longer you stay away from the blogosphere, the harder it gets to come back in again. You are actually avoiding to post something because you fear it would be stupid so you keep on thinking for a perfect restart yet the more awkward it keeps on getting the longer you do not write. Tautological.

It is then that you have to write such a post as this.

As much as I fear that this is going to be such a banal, uninteresting, even obtuse piece, it is also equally important in nature because this would immensely help me to get back on the writing track again.

And what else other than writing about my writings could be a better topic to write upon? (I know there is something wrong with that line). WordPress notified me that I had made 50 posts here. It was congratulating me on the achievement. And although I am not quite sure as to how come ranting, venting, bleeding, puking and pretending you know something on a digital platfrom could really count as an achievement, I am highly pleased and impressed by WordPress’ acknowledgement. One does not find that kind of encouragement elsewhere let alone a well-wished appreciation.

So maintaining my humble composure, as I usually do, I would like to thank myself (this time) for actually letting myself being me. I realized that I suppress my true self at a lot of places either because of some sacrifice I have to make for a loved one or because of societal norms or because I may get more virtues or sometimes simply because I cannot afford to be myself.

In writing however, I never gave up and as much as I am thankful to Allah and all the other people who helped me to get here, I am also proud of myself for not stifling the writer within me. Ever since I was a child, I loved reading and writing. Many of us do. Then most of us grow up and leave our hobbies behind. Most of us are encouraged by our parents and other family members to only seek this useless activity in leisure time. Some of us are even looked down upon, or just dismissed as misunderstood, hard to comprehend individuals of the society.

Fortunately I got a couple of those misunderstood, hard to comprehend individuals of the society as my friends and I entered this safe haven where I could freely write whatever and whenever I wanted without any time limits and word limits to take care of. I would like to thank all those friends and would have loved to put their names in here but today I want this post to be about me. I want to be a little selfish and narcisstic today.

These 50 posts on WordPress are 50 proofs of the writer that lives within me and the amusing part is I do not have to prove this writer to anyone else but myself. These 50 posts are an exhibition of my pain, relief, sadness, happiness, reflections and retrospections but above all they are the exhibition of my ability to weave words into sentences for all of us do feel, but all of us do not write. These 50 posts are an answer to my question which I made on the same blog of When would you write like a writer? These 50 posts are 50 power punches to all those who made me feel I was not good enough or that I was not meant for this or that studying Literature was an emotional decision or that although I could write but there will always be people who write better than me so I shouldn’t waste my time after all or even that writing was too hackneyed a concept which a productive person like me should not waste my intelligence on. Looks like I didn’t quite make a fool of myself, did I? These 50 posts are also an indicator of your love and encouragement. This your refers to all the readers who are reading these words right now. All my followers, all the silent readers, all the accidentally-dropped-on-this blog people; each and every one of you is responsible for this number 50. I know I am a sucker for motivation and encouragement and would have soon given up on maintaining this blog if it weren’t for all of you.

Thank you for sticking with me and thanks to myself for sticking to the writer in me. Sometimes one just needs to let it flow, to appreciate all the typing effort and thinking effort one makes to create a blog post. Sometimes its okay to be selfish and narcisstic. Sometimes one needs to write that first post to reach the 50th and sometimes one just has to start off with an unintelligible title to make it to the 51st post.

Upon reading it from the start, it doesn’t sound that bad after all;D

Happy blogging and stay tuned for more!:)

You Are a Reflection of What You Love

3e223967ff95910ec6aadfe1c65979a1

Dear Farend,

You say that you love me
But never do you show
Whenever I tell you, “You move me”
Surprised, you reply with an ‘Oh!’

You say that you love me
But never do you believe
When I tell you, “You are lovely”
You negate in disbelief

You say that you love me
But never do you realize
That you are a masterpiece-to-be
What with that fire in your eyes?

You once told me, that you love me
I discussed the power of your words
You replied, ‘They are not worthy’
So I made all the ‘I love yous’ unheard.

You always talk of love with me
One that you say you have for you
Then type a detailed self-critique,
Making all that love untrue.

You always tend to shove me
When I number things at which you’re great
You dismiss all my numberings
With one of what I enumerate: debate

Though your skill with numbers is above me,
You astound me with words too,
But always you interrupt me
With an ‘Oh it is just you!’

So dear Farend, how come you love me?
When you can barely ever agree
With my opinions of how you are
I suppose I have the right to question thee
Why this pretense of hypocrisy?
When I am just a reflection of who you are.

Death will always hurt the same

tumblr_mh6v96548x1qhoi9qo1_r1_500

I do not know how to quiet my mind

I do not know how to hush my soul

They are speaking yet words are hard to find

Nothing can ever stitch it back to whole.

I will never know perhaps. The answer will always be too blur and my irrational thoughts will always be too vivid. Perhaps my irrational thoughts will always appear too rational to me. This is perhaps the third post I am making about death. First it was Amjad Sabri whom I was connected to through just some qawwalis he recited. Then it was Junaid Jamshed whom I was so much more connected to, because of his inspirational speeches, transformation and naats. Then it was my maternal grandmother’s (nani’s) turn (whom I did not post about). The first two were not related by blood. The third one was surviving through those extremely feeble days of age when one has accomplished most of the goals if not all. It was still bearable. I had no memories with the first two people I mention in the post except that they were public figures. With my nani, I had enough memories, more than I will probably ever recall in life.

But this death….it just hurts so much. Or perhaps it always hurts the same.

First it is the drowning. You get the news and seconds later it is all going down. Not like someone pushed you into the ocean but more like you dived in and are making no efforts to move your hands or legs. Calmly, yet unwillingly you are going down down down into the the depth and darkness. Few minutes later, you are okay; you are not crying…obviously because it hasn’t really sunken down. Too hard to believe. Too unusual to believe? Then the realization strikes that it has happened. You will never ever ever see that person again. They are gone. Forever. Your mind produces continuous images of them lying dead, sleeping peacefully, eyes closed..coffin? This is when a deep and strong heavy wind of grief encircles you and just stays there. You sit with it, stand with it, move with it. And along with the exasperation of this heavy air the feeling of helpessness starts to cave in on you. You cannot do anything. It is as it is. Everyone has to die. All are equal in the eyes of death. You have no excuse to complain. Complain to whom anyway? It is no one’s fault. But I feel so hurt. Perhaps it is the only hurt in the world which you cannot blame over anyone neither yourself. It is just a hurt one has to bear.

In my personal opinion, there are two types of deaths or let me say deaths of two categories of people which hurt the most. People we are dependent on: emotionally, financially, in every way. We are so extremely dependent that it almost feels like one or more tendons of the heart are invisibly attached to theirs. Honestly could be anyone, usually your parents, siblings but could be an internet friend, best friend, husband, wife, teacher. Anyone. Just someone very very close to one’s heart. And then the second category is those of children and adolescents. No matter who the child or teen is, his/her death claws on the heart in an eccentric way. Simply because they have been just too young too die? Specially the ones who have been so enthusiastic about their lives. Have had so many amazing goals and dreams in their eyes and on their minds. They have yet to experience the viles and ecstacies of this world: heartbreak, graduation, betrayals, marriage, job…life. they have yet to experience life but it ends.

I try my best to not get too over taken by this phenomenon of death. Perhaps I am more disentangled when it comes to death. I realize it has to happen, I try to swallow the bitter tablet, perhaps with a little more ease. I am aware of the fact that, I could just die the next moment or tomorrow and I believe in the uncertainity of life. Of course it brings shivers down my spine to envisage someone else, someone very close to me..walking down that lonely aisle. But it is there and I try to accept it.

My cousin, 15 years old, student of 10th grade aspiring to become a doctor, one of the sweetest and competitive, patient girl I have known, Areesha, passed away. Medical problems? Sure she had them, ever since she was born. Those are the best excuse anyway. But she had improved, she was leading a healthy perfect life just like anyone of us, going to school and studying hard. She had to sit for her board exams this year and I am sure she would have aced it. But life..sorry, death happened. Six months ago, her health starts to go down, a kidney has failed and transplant is not possible. She’s bravely averaging three dialysis per week, nothing but astonished at the sudden course her life has taken just before the final exams. She insists to give her papers even though everyone knows her education cannot really continue anymore, at least not the normal way. But she was ambitious, she wanted to live, she wanted to live like everyone else, like she had been living for the past 14 years. Determined as she is, she buys four dresses for Eid. I am still moved by the level of conviction she had about living up until it came. She gives her Physics practical, upon returning home she calls her mother to bring along a gift from work because it is her friend’s birthday the other day. And she dies that evening on her way to hospital, the gift still sits on her side table.

Medically, she was having great difficulty breathing, they had the oxygen cylinder at home and she was still breathing from that cylinder in the car as her parents rushed to the hospital when she breathed her last. Actually, this was all the time she had to live in this world.

I do not have the emotional strength to talk about the beautiful memories I have with her.  How she always looked up to me as her elder sister. I cannot imagine to explain how she told me elaborate details of what subjects she wanted to choose in college or how she always appreciated me taking Psychology in A levels. All I can probably manage to type is that she had once said, ‘I want to be like you. You are my role model.’

Obviously enough the reason to write this is not exactly share the grief. How can it be shared after all? It is not to gain sympathies either of course, because hey she is gone. And although the real real most painful grief is what her parents are going through right now (her younger brother is too young to even understand I suppose) but it’s just awful. It hurts me. I need to write it out. I need to blatantly announce that once again I am left utterly hopelessly sad. Sad for her, sad for her parents-and grief stricken for her younger brother who was so close to her. I am wondering how would he sleep alone in the room now. And it is just more horrible becuase she was young. She was ambitious about living. She had dreams. Such deaths may not be a rarity in this world but it sure was the first such case in my family.

Can I say I feel so dreadful, with the thought of it could be anyone next. Anyone very close to me? That it could be me too? It doesn’t make me anxious or upset..but it just makes me so so rueful about the fakeness of this world and life.

May she rest in peace. May Allah grant her jannah. Ameen.

Marriage Matters

This is so important and needs to be understood by all those Muslims who take the whole marriage affair too narrowly (or rather seriosuly?). From the segregated gender roles of a husband and wife to the basic concept of marriage in Islam, there are a number of minor misunderstandings dotting our culture and values.

Muslimah According to Me

Salaam and jummah mubarak!

I am finding myself this Friday in a bit of a writer’s block, not really feeling any inspiration one way or the other on what to write about. So naturally, I’m just going to share my two-cents about one of those topics that is sensational no matter when you bring it up!

I once heard a speaker at a packed talk on marriage say something to the effect of, “if you want to sell out your class, either talk about marriage or jinn.” And it’s true, the most well-attended classes and seminars I have been to have all been on marriage (I have yet to attend something exclusively about jinn; it’s on my bucket list!)

I understand why people are obsessed with jinn—there is always a degree of fascination around the “supernatural” or the world of the unseen. We can’t see it except on rare, freaky…

View original post 1,189 more words

Disguised Murderer

 

111447ef76dc65de2be250ea571b7d5d_20170511035635449

It saws through the ribcage
Savagely sawing, grinding the
Unyielding, weakening bones.
Breaks through the guarding cage.

Then hunts in the darkness, with rage
in its eyes; loath, scorn, contempt.
Searches wild-eyed for that which moans
Softly pumping; pounding, frightened flesh

 Now a twitching, throbbing hostage.
Inquires its last wish, speaking to it
In hissing, malicious undertones
The small piece of pulsating flesh
Begs for a last embrace.

So without a moments age
It plunges, dagger-like, sending
Spurts of blood and groans
translucent drops of pain on face.

It’s over. A silence descends onstage.
I clap, hoot, howl, enraged.
Then smile at the cruel deftness galore
Just a thought, unarmed-but fatefully yours.

The Uniquely Me Tag

d4e63265f151e681a3a0262e4b5729e2

Alright so I couldn’t have been more boring since the past few months. But honestly you guys can’t blame me. What else can u expect from a girl with constant headaches who has been at home for 8 good months now and has to maintain this status of a couch potato for the next 3 months. Great! I do understand and realize that people going to colleges and universities these days are way more stressed than me, missing and yearning for a single week of relaxation and that I am going to badly miss this all as soon as university starts but trust me when I say this:

A gap year just gets too much.

Not that I do not feel like writing annnything other than poetry but I just do not feel like sharing stuff because my mind feels confined and restricted in different ways due to this unedning monotonous routine of life these days. Sooo, I finally decided to do something different. I have a few tags/awards in line and I was just delaying them for I don’t know when. But today I finally decided to do one of them!

The Uniquely Me Tag is an amazing initiative taken with the intention of boosting one’s slef esteem and self worth. It impells you to think about yourself, about characteristics which define you, which make you stand out and feel good about yourself. I was nominated for this tag by the awesome Kirithika who really has a little bit of everything on her blog. You must check it out because I always open her blog up when I am needing a random, casual, easy and everyday read. Thank you so much Kirithika for nominating me and giving me a chance to do something new after a long while.

So like with every tag/award (and me not being a rebel) let us post the rules:

1. Thank the person that nominated you for this tag and link to their blog (spread the love, basically).
2. Write as many things that are unique to you as possible: these can be things that you do, say, like or have that make you different to other people or let you stand out. It can be what defines you as a person, a little thing about you that is just simply youor something little known that you think makes you up as a person.
3. Nominate up to 10 bloggers or as many as you like; there isn’t a limit.
4. You can take this tag as seriously or non-seriously as you like; you can laugh whilst doing it or feel contemplative: this is about you, after all.
5. After you’ve written this and if you ever feel like there’s nothing to you but what other people have already said and done, look back to your post and remember that it isn’t true!

Okay so I do not know what type of things should I tell about myself but let’s do this:

1. I am kind. Is it something unique? Talking about the place where I live, yes. It is rare and unique.

2. I love small handmade accessories and if someone made me choose between a dinner and a handmade card, I would go with the latter.

3. I have an undying, unexplicable love for water. I love drinking it and just you know ‘waterrrr yaaay’

4. I have clashing peronality type and zodiac which makes me a paradox in so many places and of course a product of chaos. Perhaps that is why My Colours Float On a River of Grey.

5. Yes I believe in personality types, zodiacs, fate and everything rational people do not believe in.

6. I also strongly believe in rationality, logic and justice.

7. Stars and moons are so real to me. You will find their mention in most of my poetries.

8. I have discovered crying to be an amazing catharsis.

9. I find it difficult to give away information about me in definite bullet points because of my ‘very fluid’ personality.

10. My family desrcibes me as an extrovert and friends describe me as an introvert. I don’t know.

Alright guys so this was it. I feel better after doing this. I am more excited about reading Farees’s answers, I do not know why (or maybe I do xD). Anyways, I have more poetries and a serious post plannedvup. Let’s see when that happens.

Here are my nominations:

Fareeeees

Accidentally Inked

Tam

Saira

L

Saiz

Ambreen

Rizwana

The Girl Next Door

originally written on 20th February 2017

mysterious_eyes_3_by_maeglin3

Gloomy, in a blue chair
Sat she
With ivory black hair
Spread all over
Her hidden face

I tried to descry
Expression of her eye
But the opaque windows
Gave no hint
No trace

Alas, she stood
Looked my way
Stood there, staring
For a second or two

Then dropped her gaze
And turned away
Whispering, “eyes don’t always
Show what is true..”