Saturday, 31 July 2010

my words and her pain

So many sun rises and so many sun sets go by. I sit there in a corner of a scenery of solace. the wind billows my hair, the only companion invisible but there. I look for words, desperately but none would come until i plead. There is a moment I lost, in front of me. Something is missing. What is it that I know not...but something of significant value, close to my heart. HEART. Thats it. I have lost the beating rhythm but not to some too-good-to-be-true-prince charming-on-a-horse-back, riding through the beautiful prairie towards me. The stunning smile on the heroic face of my delusional prince charming fades and the horse slows down its gallop. I think he heard me. The distance between me and my savior increases...

My heart beat of the absent heart fastens and in a split second I realise. I feel as if someone suddenly moved the heavy paper weight, leaving the stacks of untamed paper to fly in every direction. Their hidden wings suddenly materalised out of illusion. It was the chaos of realisation.

The space where the well groomed horse had been galloping appeared deserted. The savior was a hoax. No prince was coming to give me the kiss of life. It was not a fairy tale. I was not the damsel in distress. My life did not begin or end in a children's bed time story book.

I was real. My flesh and bones were real, maimed and brittle. My hair, silky and brown mingled with the real wind that carried dust and mote.

A drop of blood slid down my wrist and met with a dried up wound; reminder of my womanhood- a liability I carry for as long as I survive.

postscript: Dedicated to the many rape victims in Pakistan that meet a fate they least deserve though my words cannot heal their wounds.

Thursday, 29 July 2010

The goodbyes

The beautiful day began with a cool wind, snow like cloudy sky and hope. Every thing was in harmony with nature. Rain pattered on our window sills, the trees looked lavishly green, the birds soared in the air like victors of a war. There was peace, calmness and unpredictability. She packed her bags and had one last look in the mirror. A refreshing smile adorned her intelligent face. It was time for her flight.

Hand in hand, they walked together, leaving their foot prints in the sand behind them. A generous wave glided on the shores, she laughed as the cool water waves touched her ankles. The sun was setting on the vast horizon. Their new life together eagerly waited to embrace them. The new sun would take them to Islamabad but maybe it was not their final destination...

The baby wailed loudly in her arms. Tears rolled down the soft chubby cheeks and the baby rested his face on his mother's shoulder. Behind him, the dense crowd was loud, some were laughing, others were emotional as they waved goodbyes. But his adorable eyes were fixed on his granny, who kept blowing him flying kisses.The loud excited chatter of the crowd fainted as the distance grew. The pristine figure of his granny disappeared behind the dense crowd gathered at the airport.

A few images got veiled behind my poor imagination as i thought of those who lost their lives in a sudden air accident.

Who knew the goodbyes were the final gestures of love. Who knew that another sight of the loved ones would remain a dream, a wish. Who knew that a day that started with hope and promises would meet a fate least expected. Life is such. The emotional outburst and panic of the relatives at the airports, their questions and desperation was worsened by the carelessly given statements of our cabinet ministers, who first kindled hope that there are survivors only to refuse it later. There is more which left the pain stricken relatives in anguish for long hours as they waited for information from the hospital and the airport to hear something about their lost loved ones. The tragic accident left many questions unanswered like why was the pilot instructed to take another round before landing on its set time? What other plane was landing before airblue's plane and why? Is the black box recovered?

Postscript: My words cannot fill the void left in the lives of the families who lost loved ones in the plane crash accident. Maybe its the catharsis of an onlooker who helplessly watched the entire tragic episode unfold in front of her eyes.

Sunday, 25 July 2010

its something new out of the old

 She punches in the old hard keys of the type writer in an abandoned house...

It was  tender outside. The pattering rain peaked in through the window as i slept peacefully or rather oblivious of the nature's play. The jovial mood of the light breeze and the cold soft rain drops settled in contrast to the matters of the heart.The morning hues dawned quietly by my window and  the wind  softly billowed away thin cream curtains. In a dreamy state i opened my heavy eyes to the beautiful and refreshing fragrance of summer monsoon. Against my desire to kick away the blanket and pop out of the bed like a jack in the box, i laid there, motionless. I knew i was wasting time, staring at the plain ceiling above, with the fan in its rotatory flight, cooling my sleepy hot temper...

For a moment she stops, listens intently, the high and the low notes of silence gathers around her. From a distance her lean figure in the light of the moon pouring in through the clean glass window, resembles to that of a pianist and his piano and music notes...she continues playing her notes and the words spread across the page...

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

each breath weighs a rose

Bare foot I walked in the endless desert of my thoughts. The sweltering sun influenced the sand and pierced through my skin. Each step sank in and left a mark to be erased by desert wind. The ever changing dunes danced and pranced around my shadow, as i wandered in vain while my feet burned in the hot bed of sand spread wide and far.

In the middle of nowhere, a television screen grabbed my attention. An illusion I thought and continued the traipse of a reluctant lost person. As I covered the unreachable distance, the blank screen came closer, defying the concept of mirage.

Each step and each breathe that i took weighed a thousand stones on my back. The burden of guilt pressed against my bosom. Ignoring the choking burden creeping up my protruding adam's apple, I tread further merely to get to the misfit television screen. As the sun in the canvas above celebrated, my head smoldered with rage and my feet grew blisters. The parched skin on my bones began peeling off or so I felt. Over exposure to the harsh sun rays could not not quicken my pace towards the only object of interest to my tired soul. A spell of fatigue adorned itself on me, tagged me as laughable and a clown.

The claws of an eagle gripped my head so hard i could feel its sharpness sinking into my skull or was it like being caged in a coconut shell. Something hindered my human abilities to think. When and how I finally stopped in front of the bizarre television set, I cannot recall. My stiff, sun burnt, roasted hand reached to tune a channel. Before i could proceed any further, the machine turned into ashes, suspended itself in the air for seconds and then like confetti, quickly fell down into the desert pool.

My bloodshot eyes saw something again and before my brain cells could comprehend what the distance had blurred exhilaration surmounted every pore on my skin, every thought in my mind, and each heart beat inside me. The wind pulled me back and the sand slipped like a cascade, sweeping me away with it in an opposite direction. Within seconds, I saw myself being tore to pieces like shred of paper. In the background, as a touch of irony, I heard an unrecognizable melody on a violin somewhere in the distance, as vague as things appeared to me in the desert of my thoughts...

Saturday, 17 July 2010

When she met him

As she splashed a handful of cold water on her face, a smile invaded the sweaty beads trickling down her pale cheeks. She let the water fall on her skin. Was it magic or the muses coming out of no where producing ideas forming words and words gathering to become sentences? At last the spell of the wicked witch seemed to have broken. The faded words that meant nothing now revived themselves with a glow that blinded her for a second. It was an exuberant moment.

A sudden sound at a distance astounded her. The giants from her nightmares had quit and were heading home. Thud Thud, the footsteps' resonance echoed around her but only to bring forth the joy of countless army of words marching towards her.

She grew curious to the herald of the magnificent flock of birds against the azure sky. What could that mean she thought. Before she knew it, the group of exotic birds as if from a folklore flew towards her, whistling and chirping to their tune of freedom. They flapped their wings with synchronized rhythm and dived towards her lean figure as she stood mesmerized by the aura of the flying creatures. Their flight grew closer and dropped beautifully sewn garlands of gleaming white roses, the likes of which she had never seen. The fragrance spread its invisible wings and embraced the atmosphere surrounding her.

While she stood there admiring the white of the flowers and their soft velvety texture, something tickled her feet. Tiny dews had gathered on the serene meadow beneath her pale feet. Conspiring something big in their tiny dewy world. She bent on her knees and closely observed their shine diminishing into nothingness. How could this be she thought. Recalling Keats' she whispered the famed lines "A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness."

The glow of the meadow left behind by the dew said it all. She knew she was free. Free from the shackles of unknown bounds. The birds had flown, the garland hung around her neck, the air still pregnant with fragrance, she knew it was time to head home. She walked a while in the engraved giant footsteps and jubilantly headed in another direction as the auroral sky complimented her silhouette.

...then she cupped her hands to collect the running water from the tap onto her sticky sweaty face to rid of the humid weather outside...


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