And then my soul saw you and it kind of went "Oh there you are. I've been looking for you.”



Doesn’t she look happy dancing in the rain with a heart so gay and young? With a face like that of an angel, and the floating gracefulness of a goddess, her own feet unaware of where she might put them next; she could perhaps be the luckiest in the world!

Like a wild flower in full bloom, oh, how she fills the air around her with the aroma and affect of her. How the stars sparkle in her presence and the earth stops to the rhythm of her steps! And how everything, in an unseen felt way, bows down to herin respect of her happiness!

See how she flutters her wings and holds out her arms to fill in the falling rain in the cups of her palms, and then brings it to her lips to drink from it; as if it were a divine goblet! Or an elixir, pouring which will quench her deep thirst, and free her of all that torments her soul…

But it scares me to see her so, and I can’t really explain what I find unfitting in this picture. Maybe it’s in her eyes… which are grayer than the sky above her, or her laughter which doesn’t quite seem real. There is something in her tone that hints betrayal, something about her shadow that keeps dissolving minute by minute.

‘She must be a carrier of love’ is what I thought of her before. But maybe, as I now realize, it’s an injury better than that. Maybe, as her façade weakens and reality takes over, we won’t find a trace of what we see now. And for all they will know, she would be a girl who died dancing!

Eid – to sacrifice

تقبل الله منا ومنكم 
Eid Mubarak!

Nephew turns One!

So this is my favorite guy:

His name is AbdurRehman and I am head over heels in love with him. <3_<3




Here’s to celebrate this one year of aani-hood (khala/aunt/aala wtevr) which has been full of joys and love, Alhamdulillah.



White Roses.

Apparently fixed on the ceiling, those stone-like eyes kept staring into nothingness and the worlds beyond it. The fan whirred slowly, like the clock ticked short taps, and the heart pumped liquid in and out. Everything moved in its own circle of existence, performing the allotted functions steadily and uncomplainingly. But even then, it felt like the world had somehow turned upside-down, and the fan whirred only to mock in its own given voice, the time moved to show how invaluable every other being before it was, and the muscle pulsated to define how the gods-on-earth were only too frail and fragile; not being able to keep anything from working or breakingeven their hearts.

Once unleashed, the mind traveled speedily into the fields of green and gold where the spark in one another’s eyes had signed smilingly the invisible yet undeniably substantial contracts of always staying together. It wandered farther to the streams of crystal blue waters where hands were held and oaths were repeated before angels of the world, and names were carved on rocks as well as on every atom of each other’s being. Tracing back the swift walks made across sand lanes and muddy roads, it came to rest only as the image of stars dancing as they were that night appeared on the retinas, and the sharp smell of white roses made their way through nostrils to the insides, causing currents to run down one’s spine.

How does it happen that a seemingly small wave envelops an entire universe in itself? How does Destiny fail Desire every time, and dreams turn to dust before reaching the realms of fulfillment? Why do the once saintly carriers of love blaspheme the very sanctity of it – leaving souls insecure and shattered forever?

Soft rain began to pelt against the room’s window bringing back the detested realizations of reality, and with a single tear that rolled down mournfully, all wounds were washed away until next time…



Dead I: Carrion

Originally posted on Warm Nights and Cold Fires:

The fact that I was dead was indubitable. I was stuck in a motionless body, the smell had surpassed unbearable some time ago and I had absolutely no sight; my eyes were far too gone for that luxury, I think. Or it could’ve been the dark. I try to shift myself to a more comfortable (albeit just as dead) position before I remembered I was, well, dead, and stuck in a motionless body.

I know that the beetles were at me now. The maggots had come and gone, and the worms and flies had had their turn too. It was time for the beetles to rip out little bits of damp, cold deadness and scrounge up what little was left of my flesh. I settled into nonchalant disregard as the insects did their work, tickling the remaining few threads of my consciousness that had managed to somehow still stay attached…

View original 507 more words

Mystical Embrace

With aching hands and tired feet
this traveler shuts her eyes to sleep
her thoughts she packs in mind’s backyard
but yours it seems she can’t conceal.

All night through she thinks of you
as the sky dresses in cobalt blue
and silver moonlight washes earth,
to another dream her heart gives birth!

Your name she whispers a hundred times;
flutters, her soul in those heavenly chimes
smiling she submits herself in space
as sleep takes her in its mystical embrace.

(14 Sept, 2014; 2:15 a.m)

You are everywhere

When I shut my eyes to sleep,
you appear like a tear
at the corners of my eyes.

I try to wrestle away your thoughts
by shoving aside our memories,
struggling in vain to distract myself
but I give up
and they stay.

Get out of my mind
come in front
because I’d rather that you
bother me where I can see you.

If I fall asleep, it’s you that I dream of.
If I don’t, then there’s no escape
from the haunting reality;
the shadow that is you.

Like a ghost you follow me
everywhere I go
and no amount of light
can scare you away.

Get out of my mind
come in front
because I’d rather that you
bother me where I can see you.

Like a parasite you cling onto me
or a perfume that doesn’t wear off.
You are Everywhere
and you are Everytime.


تم نے آبشاروں کو چپ ہوتے دیکھا ہے؟ کبھی کبھی اپنی تمام شان و شوکت میں بھی  پانی ساکت ہوجاتا ہے، آوازیں ماند پڑجاتی ہیں۔ پھر وہ بہتا نہیں گرتا ہے۔ ہلکے، ہلکےـ صرف کسی حکم کی تعمیل کرنے کوـ مگر سنو، پانی بےجان نہیں ہوتاـ یہی بوندیں جب پتھروں پہ پڑتی ہیں تو انہیں توڑ کررکھ دیتی ہیں۔۔۔ سوراخ کردیتی ہیں ان میں۔ پانی خاموش ہوتا ہے مگر اسکی بوند بوند بلا کا شور پالتی ہےـ ایسا کہ جاننے والے پر ہیبت طاری کردے۔
تم نے پتھروں کو ٹوٹتے دیکھا ہے؟

Tum ne aabsharon ko chup hotay dekha hae? Kabhi kabhi apni tamaam shaan-o-shokat mai bhi paani sak’t hojata hae, awaazain maand parjati haen. Phir wo behta nahi, girta hae. Halkay, halkay. Sirf kisi hukam ki taameel karny ko. Magar suno, paani be-jan nahi hota. Yehi boondain jab patharon pe parrti haen tou unhay torr ke rakh deti haen… Sorakh kardeti haen inn me. Paani khamosh hota hae magar iski boond boond bala ka shor palti hae. Aesa ke ‘jannay waly’ par haibat tari karday.
Tum ne patharon ko toot’ty dekha hae?


The body pulls towards itself; to keep intact, to breathe, to live.

The soul is inclined to reach your doorstep.

The skin itches.




Leading Lady.

Lights off/curtains down
darkness spreads/a sharp sound

stage breaks/people shout
helter-skelter/they run about

fire starts/audience leaves
amidst flames/the lady weeps.


I think of you
during nights
when there is no sleep.
And I
count our memories
on stars,
taking your name
on my fingertips
until it leaves me





I was
still am
always will be.”

His eyes were red. They emitted fire. His hair was all messed up. Like his life. He would pull his hair, kick his bed, his door, and cry. Tears wouldn’t stop for even a minute – nor would he make any effort of that kind. He was too weak, so helpless, that any effort to push back the inevitable seemed useless.

He kept pacing around the small room with a mind too full or blank. I am not sure he knew what he was doing or what he could, because he didn’t seem to show that in his ways.

Between his wails a name unknowingly escaped his lips. Her name. His secret. He sat down suddenly on the floor and began staring his palms. Her name was his object, and how he worshiped it. It was his everything. She was his everything!

But nothing was same anymore. His secret was the talk of the town then. Everybody was curious about her; how she had died. How she had been killed. How anyone like her so young, pretty, freecould be killed?!

She was free, as they knew, but there are always things which you think you know though you don’t, no? She was enslaved too. He was her master. Like she was his mistress, his diva.

He got up weakly and went towards the small table on his bedside. A crumpled ball of yellow sheet laid there on the floor;  rejected, thrown. He picked it up and unfolded the creases carefully to not bring any more damage. It was his last hope. He began reading…


I was
still am
always will be.”

It were just those four lines, those few words that brought him to tears again. He started to scream violently, repeating her name again and again as if it were his medicine. As if she would return if he would call her now. But some things just don’t return to normal once you hurt them, do they?

He had killed her. He was his master, and his murderer. And he thought he loved her…


Startled by a bell, he looked at the door. A man in uniform stood there. He asked him a few unnecessary questions, stole a quick inspective glance at his room, and patted his shoulder. Told him he understood his pain, his own wife had died not too long ago. Asked him to please hold on, to not give up. To God we belong and to Him shall we return.


He sat down on his bed, alone again, and rubbed his eyes. A sudden throbbing pain in his head started all of a sudden, forcing him to shriek. He clenched his fist and hit his forehead multiple times the pain didn’t leave, of course.

“Yours – I was”
yes, she was his.
Since ever. She had always lived for him. He was her first prayer. Her first and only sawaal, minnat, dua. And last.

“Yours – I still am”
“Are you? Are you still?” he asked. “Come back! Will you come back?” he cried. The memories of her falling on his feet flashed back that instant, and he could see again how he had done it. How he had killed a begging diva...

Shouts. Cries. Clarifications. Slowly his mind began to lose its power to comprehend each voice and with each next note added a different melody. He touched her side of the bed rather helplessly as tears rolled down his eyes when he shut them close. It was then that a silver figure walked gracefully to his side and placed her hand gently on his head, to put him to sleep.

Yours I always will be, she whispered.

Maria Imran.

LOVE. Lost and found.


I love it to bits, Pamela.

Some connections are just meant to be. And no borders, orders, or fences can help separate those. This is one such and I am EXTREMELY grateful!
Thanks a million, and another million! YOUR EIDI MADE MY DAY. <3

Originally posted on Resonner's Blog:

A Hindu married a Muslim,
And two sisters grew in the womb,
Little then did they know,
They will build each others tomb…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ● ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ● ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ● ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ● ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Borders are like birds,
They will fly wherever they want to.
Nations are like clouds,
They will drift wherever they like to.

But people are the skies,
They will have to stay back,
To witness all birds and clouds,
Good-bad, light and dark.

Soldiers, wars, battles, gun fights,
Matters trivial, wrongs and rights…
One after the other, shot after shot,
The opportunity for love- lost.
Mountains, rivers, valleys and snow.
What do we fight for,
Do we really know?

We are warring over the Indus,
So much blood, so much loss!

View original 489 more words


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