Where are you?

There is a wall between us, I can’t seem to break or climb; and I admit I don’t lean against it everyday but at nights and morns I get lost and in my aimless wandering, my feet drag me to back to this moment and I’d recall from my fallible memory when I’d use to be at the length of your knees and held my hands up to you, you’d notice me and sigh, you’d pick me up and I’d hold onto your neck- sometimes too tight for your breath.

It’s a strange watery feeling to remember- you use to kiss my face, the peach fuzz on my cheeks doesn’t make me feel the same. And I wonder what went on in your head.

and then you started to disappear- libraries unchecked and books unread, no more sodas or chocolates, arriving back home before 4pm, who was this person that took me to school. The monotony of  black memory developed.

Years pass by- and I chose you; somehow it wasn’t in me to see it all break. Seeing you talk to walls made me cry- I hated the fact I couldn’t be with you. And I ran every time back to you and you’d take me, I hated it that only one bigot supported me to be with you. You told me I wept too easily but then you told them “Please take care of him he is sensitive” The world didn’t matter to you anymore.

And then the coaster was ready for an other ride- your laugh gained infamy with the neighbors, you brought the libraries home and you wouldn’t get mad if I misplaced a book or two.

You’d bother the family cook for recipes, the first time you cooked, I saw a small mountain of spice on a burning chicken with no water- the chicken bits swimming in the stew looked funny in the end- you didn’t make chicken stew ever again.

Years passed by it was time to come back down again, people blinded you or maybe it was just you, conned you out of hope and I had to leave again- the faint tunes of the music box kept playing in my head; from the night I lost myself, you picked out a chair and asked if I couldn’t sleep- and the smile on your face follows me to this day.

Sometimes I hope on this side of the wall that coaster isn’t broken when I hear your voice crack on the phone- the last time we talked you asked me if I wanted you to bring something and then told me chocolate can be bought from anywhere

and I hope this wall breaks where ever you are- so you could see what it means to me as I hold on to your words :

“گھبرانا نہیں بیٹا”

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Aberration

Parents- our first cognizance in the universe. Sanctuaries emphatically residing in our memories. Roaring synapses of incense beheld with tactility- ramifications in variety for each individual.

24th- My best friends’ mother passed away- This was the third time in my life I was woken up to the news of death- I hadn’t slept the night before, my cellphone rang but I didn’t pick it up, awoken I checked to see who it was and I had received more than one text from different contacts

“Shani and Mani’s mum passed away”

The fleeting seconds were slow, I was already drowning in the past and nightmares- I did not know how to respond, I couldn’t feel anything and all I uttered back was,

“what?”
“Yes-
If it’s possible please come over”

If I could trade a limb to have felt pain at that moment- I would have- but I hadn’t. I went to my mother and broke her the news- she remained silent and I hated it. I did everything as fast I could and it was dumb luck there was a raincoat laying conveniently on the bed- in this killer summer this year there was no hope for rain but the sky was indeed weeping that day. I was contemplating if I would be able to hug my mother, things were not good between us but we did and she told me to convey her condolences. I took off on the motorbike.

As each blurry and soaked scene passed by my thoughts kept running faster than the engine-

What was I going to do?
Should I visit my father on my way back?
Will I feel anything?

But the only thing I felt was time slowing down- each minutes was too many nights my thoughts kept me awake. On the last turn a faint palpation went through me – this place was the closet home of all the homes I had lived but I felt like an immigrant.

There stood Mani- on the lane, his tearless eyes searching out for a ghost. I walked up to his blank expression greeting me- a sight my eyes couldn’t meet, I took him in hold and I could feel his pain watering up my eyes- He muttered a reassurance I didn’t register- A part of me kept pushing to utter but I couldn’t find words. it lasted a year-long minute.

I pulled back to meet his eyes but I failed and looked away to see his big brother- his tears visible, I walked up to him and met his eyes, they were easier to look at behind the cold glasses- I took him in hold and he whimpered

“She’s gone”

A hush finally escaped my lips and my hands rubbed his back- muffling his whimper. I felt my heart breaking and I was glad- I wasn’t dead inside. I nuzzled my face with his and I moved back to meet his eyes- I asked him what happened and he told me. Pulmonary fibrosis.

I wasn’t aware. We stood in silence next to each other- I kept staring blankly at the air hearing her voice echo- The conversations I had with her, every time my face turned I thought I’d see her standing behind me. I couldn’t believe she was not here anymore. Soon I saw their father hiding behind a mask receiving hugs and condolences- He kept quiet.

There were too many people, too many for me to approach him but in time they scattered and we both were left under the gloomy tent- trying our best not to make anymore eye contacts until one slipped from both of us. He approached me and It gave me the courage to approach him. As I hugged him like a cripple with no voice- he tried to utter and through his broken voice he said

“She loved you all like her own”

His mask breaking- I nodded with my eyes closed but I had no words- but it was true, they both loved all of us the same- from kids to adults now.


I sat with familiar faces- friends of friends, and I realized most of the people there were busy with their own conversations- smiles, muffled laughs- was I seeing callousness I wondered- Mani and Shani were attending to things, I wondered what they were seeing, if they were seeing what I did- but I shook my head and realized I couldn’t comprehend walking in their shoes.


I looked at her laying peacefully in the casket, I didn’t believe it was her, I couldn’t feel anything- until her voice echoed again in my head, the prayer of padre faded in the background and as they placed her in the grave- I stood in my place but I was in my memories- time had passed by too quickly and the roses were laid.

I closed my eyes and said my final good-bye to her.


In the middle of the night,
I was on my way back home
Tears kept watering my eyes
Everyone I loved Kept flashing in the red lights

It was a long ride back home.

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Well now-

I’ve reverted my blog back- It’s just that I’m too attached to it. And being who I am I feel I’m doing a dishonest thing. I’ve made a new blog but haven’t posted anything, somehow the urge to write has faded.

I don’t understand myself sometimes- my feelings. it’s like you’re in an accident and you’re in shock, crushed but not ceasing, like you wake up from a tremor and you realize you’ve woken a minute early but when you walk out to the world you realize you had forgotten to turn the clock back. You realize you’re a cripple sitting in a wheel chair and never saw it coming.

My point being- The damage I thought I could avoid was a delusion of the control I thought I had. Recently a month ago- I was told that I believe I can be a better person but I’m not one- for a moment the words strangled me until I pushed them.

I’ve changed a lot over the years except for some hardwired values but sometimes I wonder if it has always been the wires that split. That I didn’t gracefully walk in the rain, that I covered my scars in dapper and dapped pools I should have bathed in.

In all honesty I don’t even believe myself to be a writer. I think there is more to writing that I’ll never understand- and it’s a secret only real writers know. I believe people tell me that to give me hope but very little people have tricked me into thinking that I can try. I learned that I’m too suspicious for my own good. I’ll play the part of the manikin but not the customer.

Hm, I wonder which is a friend. Doubt or Belief.

I apologize, I wandered off. I have decided to keep the blog running- If I can. I’m lost- The last month wasn’t kind to me- maybe I’ll learn and pretend to be more kind.

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To my precious followers

I’m closing down this blog and will be opening a new and different one. There is this person in my life that keeps stalking me and I’ve decided for both our sakes it’s best that I make changes right now when things are small and no so ugly-

SO,

Those who wanna keep reading what I jot down leave a comment and I’ll send you the link to my new rant blog. Thank you!

Wish you all good health and life.

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What would I be

I’m tired.
I’m tired- I didn’t want things. I hid from myself, I slept too much and I was weak. I couldn’t wake up and wandered in daydreams.

I wonder a part of me that I’m with no more. Through muffled breathes that wept; the part that got me up from the floors. – Now,

A throb lies under my skin, I’m buried in this floor. I hear thuds and I imagine vividly- a glint, a hole I’m scratching for. Maybe my silence would scream, But I am stone cold.

Sometimes I wonder if
I’m digging on the wrong end.
Maybe I’ve been lying to myself,
A corpse throbbing under concrete.

What would be heard?
Maybe I’ve been lying to myself.
Muffled ambience it is
When my throb is heard

Where would I be?
Maybe I’ve been lying to myself
Above Or under this floor?

Without that part of me.

—–
To those that buried me.

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Thoughts-

Don’t say yes if you can’t say no- Because your yes wouldn’t be worth it.

Weep when you want to, Leave when you want to- Everybody will judge you regardless and most of the judgement is just projection.

Welcome and accept compliments even if you think you’re not worthy- Because reflecting, give and take, or denial is the start of your journey in ‘no one cares land’.

Be grateful of what you have even if you’re at the rock bottom- Because every time you’re playing the victim card you’re denying that you would do something about it.

Being sad and depressed is okay- But giving up and staying there isn’t, Seasons have to change.

If you miss someone let them know and set yourself free- It’s funny how someone else can cage you with absence.

Accept help and ground your ego- Because ego doesn’t learn to fly.

It’s okay to feel anger and express it- it’s not okay to keep it enclosed; Be an open door not a doormat.

Finally,

Forgive and Apologize- Because you don’t need to hurt yourself and you don’t have to give up on your values, respectively.

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“What’s on your mind?”

“Okay, here’s a new rule, from now on you are not allowed to say nothing”

You told me when I was staring out from the window of my thoughts- scenes passed by, I looked at you and tried to pick out a thought from my broken net.

“I noticed your ass when you came back- it’s huge”

I know I must have made you feel insecure- but was the only cheap comic line I could throw out, Because you see- I often hitch a ride to nowhere, where I don’t need control. How do I explain- when you’re around I’m in an orbit.

–Right now

I see you sleeping and I listened to the song you sent, how do I explain that beat of my heart hit hard at the “Good bye”.

Because in my dreams you’re there and then you disappear, I wake up incomplete. I can’t move- I’m afraid, if I close my eyes I won’t see you again.

I wish I could hold your cheeks and lock your gaze with mine- and hope that you can see how lonely and dark it is on this moon, but I know It can’t come true- when you’re around the wind is warm, I’m holding your hand, and the scenes just pass by.

Because in my mind,

I want to stay there, see the stars burn, the world fade as I hold on to your hand. I want my heart to sync on the counts of your breath and have you sleep on top of my chest. I want to grow old and feel the touch of your hair with my wrinkled hand. I want to stay alive so that I could take a journey on that very train where I kiss you-

and the scenes just pass by.

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Storm (N) (Short)

Upon dead water and crackled timber
slicing through the stars, the sea
licking on my tips- I hankered
on the glimmering seafloor; you were
a storm,

I wanted for the wind.

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Just busy.

Okay- Okay,

Well I don’t know why I’m posting this, but I know I’m restless now. There are some big things coming up on my path and I’m getting impatient, and incipiently my need to write has jumped off of something very high- Suicide? No, just that it loves to sky dive. And I find myself busy- TOO busy these days that I feel sad to not being able to write.

There have been a lot of things that passed by and happen to trigger a narrative in my mind- I came across the usage of ‘Hate’,

lets poke at that,

Hate you see is a strong word but thrown around so irresponsibly that the taste of the word seems bland. I suppose entertainment industry is to blame for that- but anyhow, Hate. I find that people use it for every negative statement- To express dislike, frustration and heck even annoyance.

What is Hate?
The dictionary “to dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility” – Makes sense? No? Okay- To put it short- If you’re using ‘Hate’ to express your dislike for chocolates or bunnies, or when someone/something is annoying you, and if someone you despise and you feel the need to express it with “I hate him/her”- You’re being dramatic.

So where is it used you ask?
Well I’ll give you a clue and the clue is when your blood is pumping hot iron or you’re gritting like a gray wolf and all seems red, constant and chronic- that’s where you can use the word ‘Hate’.

You might say ‘Anger’ is the right word and I agree it can be- But anger is short-lived but hate can be immortal. Hate is a fire that knows no friend, the sum of unrequited flames that burn down the forest; Hate- is a choice And I’ll let you in on a secret- The truest form of hate doesn’t have a face, it doesn’t escape your lips willingly and it can live forever.

And another thing that bugged me-


It’s misleading even when viewed from a simultaneous prospective because you can love someone for the good in them but you can also hate the bad in them- simultaneously, or you can hate them and then you love them and then hate them again; And you can simply hate them because you ‘still’ love them. It’s called the ‘love/hate relationship’.

Regardless of emotional dissonance- You most certainly cannot love someone for breaking your heart.

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February 10th, 2015.

Numbers are easy to remember and so are some words. We use them everyday- But some words and numbers have meanings attached to them, subjective experiences and objective observations. Like the day and the month you were born and the number of the year, a time when something amazing happened or something terrible. Memories.

I was going to bed that I saw the date and it was one of those moments when I forget what day or date I am in, 10th of February and my heart hit 140, like it did on the 3rd, on the 5th and the 7th. I had thought to myself not to think of it but today the things that I am not sure to share with myself or others, roamed free.

“You left your chapstick here.”

I had found it cleaning my room, ‘Music’ was in the name. You were frustrated when you realized and I wondered how did it escape you unnoticed- now and then it was next to your lips. I had told you that I’ll have it sent back to you but what you told me after hit supernova in my chest. I remembered 2010 and I remembered you breaking down after the first time we met.

“Throw it in the trash.”

When I left for the bus I lied to step dad, I told him I had forgotten the wallet but I wasn’t sure if I had your lip balm. It had traveled 210 miles with me but I sneaked it in your closet. I’ll never know why I was scared and why moments like these leave marks on me, the hickeys you gave only stayed for a week and that was an irony.

“Remember Sakina?”

I kept looking ahead and from my shoulder I could see you staring at me, your legs folded up in the seat and I believed I was dreaming- you looked at me the same way the first time we traveled together. I turned to you and only a nod escaped me. I wanted to tell you more but I didn’t when you leaned on my shoulder and held my hand. I remembered you told me they were soft.

We took our first pictures together and you didn’t like yourself in them- it was a first, that I didn’t care and thought you looked lovely- that was my core, it was my bias.

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!”

It was also a first when I realized what a breakdown meant, Some people kept crying and others kept screaming. It felt good to lose control, my body wasn’t mine anymore. And from then on out it felt bad- “You don’t have to scream” I don’t hope that I’ll forget those words. I knew I had jumped from a ridge and doomed myself but I was alive when you slept and I sat next to you. I tried to trace my hand on your cheek but my fingers kept burning, the tears didn’t make it easy- I hid a note in your notebook and then I held you.

I didn’t dump that locket, I hid it because I was hurt.

“Your birthday is coming soon”

Money, should there be words to describe currency? You texted me your headphones had broken and you didn’t want to spend money on good ones. I told you your birthday was coming soon, you shock your head and smiled and then you asked me a question you had asked before,

“Why do you do things like that?”

I wish I could have just texted back “February 10th.”

—–

Sometimes I wonder leaning my head against the wall and weep but before anything I remember your hands reach mine, the look in your eyes- our first waltz. I remember your scent on me but I can’t remember your voice. I remember the lovely look on your face when you woke up on our last morning. Some nights my fingers trace over the sheets, others nights you’re in my dreams. Everyday I see numbers and words and everything you are brushes past me.

It’s 10th of February.It’s your birthday.
And I hope today not single moment passes you by without happiness.

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