My Face is not my Identity.

16 - 1 (1)

Right after Oxford Dictionaries gave it the honor of being the word of the year in 2013, selfie had already become an entity of importance. Not just because of its ubiquitous usage but how it influenced minds-young and old alike- in so many different ways. However the reason to write this is not to delve into an argument about the blacks and whites, positives and negatives of selfies. This is too over-used a topic and by far all of us are aware of how it is a symbol of self-love, tool of developing high-esteem, making moments memorable as well as a fever, a craze leading to even deaths (Yes while taking the most dangerous selfie ever!). I do not really intend to make a point over that but seriously?? I would Never (God forbids) want to die in the attempt of taking a SELFIE!!

Any ways, that is not really what concerns me. But how selfies have become a constant representation of our identities. Most of us, really most of us put them up as our displays on different social networking sites to tell people what do we really look like. Of course people all over the world really need to know how and in what ways our face is different from the billion living out there. And all those names in our contact list of WhatsApp certainly need to record how our face changes  over time. I mean yes we get to see each other, but not everyday!! So we definitely need to keep each other updated with our growth. Most enjoyable is the fact how we are often encouraged and  nagged by others to put one up (even when we don’t feel like getting our development recorded-_-)

Look! You are basically beginning to understand where I am coming from. Yes. I am sorry, I refuse (generally and usually) to take any selfies. I haven’t really felt the dire need to. And I do not have those cute side dimples to flaunt. I am horrible at faking cute smiles. I humbly accept my inability. Side shots? OmG No! You see, I don’t have anyone around to select that perfect angle for me with just the right amount of light falling on my face, accentuating my features or making my hair look golden brown. And trust me, branded handbags, diamond jewellery with fair waxed hands have never struck me as an entity to be displayed with my name. And well, I know what useful thing I am missing on. You guys maybe already there. That magical thing with the power of eliminating all the above mentioned defeciencies (or at least, cover them xD) Yeah some of you might be thinking of suggesting me an editing app. But unfortunately I do not have the space for one of those handy apps (as my phone is full of pdfs of past papers, e-books, and quotes?- yeah you can read away that line making quick judgements about me being a nerd, I don’t mind). Maybe I should have gotten a phone with more storage.

But really nothing would have been of use after all! Because I do not even have that remarkable aesthetic sense to make myself appear in a unique artistic way-like hanging upside down, focusing only one feature like the almond shape of my eye or simply standing in front of a tree like a masterpiece. Sadly I have not reached that level of skill in the field of taking selfies. Another important fact is that I have never fancied the idea of putting a selfie in hijab/scarf to mark the beginning of the month of Ramadan. I mean I think I am the same Muslim I was a few days ago?:/ Neither do I understand the reason of inconspicuously letting all of my contacts know of the places I visited in my vacations (seriously a new selfie with a new location each day?). Yeah maybe your mind is roaming in one of those corner. Truly enough, I also don’t have a list of people (particularly boys) to impress with my absolutely baffling looks or pretty head-wreathe poses. But the reason to put this last of all is to establish and reinforce the fact that any person who does put a selfie as their display do not necessarily have a bunch of people to woo xD

But the truth is this is not just a piece of sarcastic rant. This is not a sly criticism on those who proudly/happily/willingly put up their selfies as their displays. This is something more personal, more private; idiosyncratic in nature. Despite being a total opposite, I still feel compelled to take and put up selfies, because of everyone else doing it around me. I fight it back! Why are we so readily available to expose ourselves to the world? More importantly, is what we are exposing even true? Why do people even need to identify me through my face? They really don’t need to as long as I am doing fine with life, hanging on to fate and am not dead in my bed (apologies for such morbid connotations). But really, is that actually me whom you see smiling in that display? Does that cheerful smile really tells you about how many nights I have cried myself to sleep? Or would that cheesy grin or side smirk on that guy’s face really tell you of the 2345 anxieties which run through his head the whole day? What if that mascara is just to hide the puffiness of her eyes. If my selfie is actually to keep my loved ones known of my well-being, then it’s not really fulfilling its purpose. Even on days it stays the  same, I might have been badly ill. Yes it may be a way of expressing love with self, but ever thought about that inferiority complex which runs through that girls mind when she is unable to capture herself as beautifully as her other friends. Honestly, those special light effects don’t give the least hint of the actual darkness in some people’s lives.

What do those people in our contact list really give us? A few compliments? Is it that acclamation, that desire of being acknowledged which drives us in the game? I do not want to get identified. I do not want to be an open book specially when people wouldn’t even be reading the ‘real me’ with that selfie I took with my group of firends. Because they don’t even know that that group of friends doesn’t even exist as a group anymore! Why try to be remembered by each friend in the friend list? Why bother being recalled in minds where I hover as a dusty memory? In this world of increasing individualisation, we have largely become vulnerable to an identity crisis. Unknowingly we make judgements about others by their appearance but more sorrily we often reinforce the same process on oursleves. We judge ourselves through the parameters set by others. If she looks pretty with a side fish tail, which one would suit me best?

 

But I guess what we forget, consistently tend to forget, is maybe I do not need to show myself at all! Maybe that would suit me best! Why have people stopped to  realize the beauty in mystery. In things hidden. If I become a dusty memory in some minds, I am more beautiful ornated with my cob webs because those who really care would still check in and text hello to a blur vision of me in their minds. That would be valuable. Not the number of compliments! They will not determine my worth. How I become a riddle to people will. Ever thought of pearls? They do not show themselves up to be recognized, they remain hidden under the dark depths of the sea. Yet so beautiful, so valuable!  Maybe, we should hide ourselves too! Not be so exposing to that world. Let it discover us. Maybe our identity is a little more sacred. A little more than what that static display picture shows. Maybe selfies are too over rated and much invalid. Because they don’t show the entire universe hidden in our eyes. They only show our eyes. So next time, if either one of us feels the urge to put one up, just because it’s the trend- Only remember that you are more beautiful a mystery. Keep them guessing, shhhh…..

That Dark Cloud Which Looked So Sad

O pretty little dark one,

Prithee, please do cry!

Let your sadness coalesce,

Into the deep blue sky.

 

Oh don’t be so scared dear dark one

It is OKAY to cry

I see how this cruel world

Always casts you by

 

It makes faces and forecasts

About the doom you will bring

About the disruption you will cause

And the thunder you will sing.

 

But dear O stormy little dark one

Don’t you grieve! Don’t you sigh!

Just pour it out! Prithee pour it down!

Unleash your tears before you die.

 

Your tears are fresh droplets,

Better than our salty ones.

Your thunder song is more brave,

Than our quiet, softie hums.

 

At least you dared to come close down

Closer than those whites up high,

While they only cover the scorching sun,

You quench the leaves-so pale, so dry!

 

I know those cold winds push you so hard

The heaviness of your tears makes you so slow

But how you color it all grey is a work of art,

Because only then do we see the blithe rainbow!

 

So let those people, run and hide

Under umbrellas, shades and shelters unnamed.

Prithee squeeze out the grey sadness-Chide!

You deserve that relief after so much pain.

 

And listen O gloomy little dark one,

Listen to how the birds sing once you are done

You have given new lives to the tulips and soil,

Can you even count the number of prayers you have earned?

 

Gosh you amaze me strong little dark one!

How your tears become life to some

Yeah you inspire me deep, dark grey cloud.

By how you reborn from the tears you have shed.

Written by T.Khan

 

I Can not think of Any Title! Sorry.

And without the slightest wisp of expectation or knowledge, the rising sun of 16th Ramadhan, 22nd June 2016, brought us the painfully melancholic news of Amjad Sabri’s death. It is 10:30 pm as I write this, almost 7 hours from when he was shot 6-7 bullets in his car, as he set out with his friends to recite Qawwali in some Iftaar transmission. The hospital and doctors couldn’t outdo the work done by the target killer and Amjad Sabri bravely breathed his last while still in hospital.

I am unable to put my words in the right order. To be honest, I simply can not think straight. His Qawwalis and other Sufi works are continuously ringing in my head, one mixing with the other, jamming the thinking process and constantly interrupting with what I have to write over here. I do not exactly know how to describe this, but as a feeble attempt, it feels as if grief has broken itself down in a million heavy pieces and they just float. Suspended in the air, moving about in their place in slow motion but never leaving their course. Needless to mention all the crying eyes cameras captured on t.v, all the condescending comments, comments of acclamation. Comments about hell and heaven the killer and Sir Sabri would go to respectively. Comments on the investigation agency of Pakistan, the law and order, the terrorists. Everything.

Honestly this is a moment when much can’t be discussed, much can’t be said because even though this is not coming from a huge fan of Amjad Sabri, the pain is too real and nothing would be enough. And more than just a feeling of sheer loss, this is simply depressing because of its abruptness. How unknowingly, how sharply and suddenly a happy, living, breathing man came back in a coffin to his family. Not that this notion has any novelty, specially in my country, but it still makes  me brood. All I can say is that yes I cried. The moment called for it. I heartily suggest others to do so too if they have been suppressing the urge to cry. Death is something created to mourn about. Not for too long but definitely for a short amount of time. However the saltiness of my tears was lesser for the one whom I believe to have gone straight to heaven, and more for the ones left behind. His family. I prayed for them. I request all of you to do so too. May Allah rest his soul in peace and grant supreme patience to his family members. At the end I would like to add some stirring words by some other blogger which made me feel better:

“People like you thrive in the hearts of millions.

Your love for the Lord instilled your love in our hearts.

You are too big a legend to be defeated by death, for as long as we live your words will reverberate through out hearts.

For as long as we live, our prayers will be directed at your soul. We may not have met in the streets of this world, but I pray that one day we meet in the streets of Jannah.”

Reflection on my Reflection

I envy you. I envy all the people with the gift of sight. Not because I am blind. That will not be sufficing in itself.

But because all of you can see me when I can’t.

The laws of human anatomy have bereft me of the ability to see myself. The redness of my cheeks when I receive a compliment. The sparkle in my eyes when watching the sun play crimson with the sky. The fluttering of my eye lids on a beautiful para in the novel nearby. The innocence on my face when I lay curled up oblivious of the world. The naughtiness in my irises when I suppress a laughter. Nothing, I can see!

And what has been given to lull my rant like a toy given to a baby to cease the tears? Hah! I have been given mirrors and snapshots of moments gone, which only tell me what I look like. But never tell me how beautiful I look in the moments of present, in the moments I live.

I envy you for being able to see ‘me’!

Warriors Of Allusion.

Despite some of them being blithe and cheery, They always float upon a discreet air of sadness.

Because they are Memories.

Demons of the dark ones, keep pulling me back in the black hole. While Light radiating from the bright ones, dimmed still becuase time can not travel in reverse.

Memories of certain people are special torture. Revenge only makes me think, how many memories I am in, in the same way.

Sad Song

Of all the sad songs I ever heard,

This song has been the saddest of all,

Because the melody

Made of sighs and hiccups,

Touches the untouched

Chords of heart.

 

The rhythm of tears as they fall,

Tip top tip top…

On the bathroom floor,

Hazing the vision;

Which was once so clear.

The beating, the heaving,

Engulfing it all.

And the eyes joining in the rueful song;

Blinking, squinting-aiding the river

Composing the saddest melody of all.