2020, Confusion~ a new dimension!, Paintings and Scribblings, raw and rough

Hello, safe space?

Hmm. Here because everyone else shunned ya out? Uh-oh. Okay, what brings you here where you’re not even real. But reality can be so scary, you know that already. Never judge anyone on fearing it. For not being their harmless-for-others untrue self.

Still so complicated, your sentences. Ew. Told you I didn’t like poetry. The f with you.

Acha what brings you here then? Go on, I’ll listen. Wow, ehsaan much.

I read this poem from twenty seventeen. Was going through my archives to find something to letter. I did pick a line from it that you see in the photo above. And then put the poem in the caption. Read it out:

All our issues and one

Sometimes,
When I should be elsewhere
Inside Dreams,
I lay awake instead, and
Assemble a questionnaire in my mind:
Everything that I have now yearned too long to ask you, I would;
“This is going to be a very, very honest conversation,” I will say.
It’s our final friendly law.
A sudden surge of happiness like a reflection of seven colors on my sooted heart—
If you call me again I might at least find my name
And as we’re talking, I will ask— no harsh feelings, hey!— but why did you think it was okay to do what you did?
How many others have you scarred the same way?
Alas! In the back of my mind the colors shift
A curtain closes
Rubbing the drama away in one swift move:
How will I know if you won’t still be lying?


Idk if the ending feels as clear to me now. I remember knowing back then also that it was vague but for me the meaning was clear. How will I know if you wont still be lying, huh? Ajeeb matlab. Duh.

ANYWAY. I’m ranting to not think but I’m thinking all sorts of things. With so much speed that it’s hard to catch up. Painful that I can’t take your and your and your name. Matlab pagal hi bana diya.

Sigh. My bud-dua or yours? I remember this other poem — feels like another life when I wrote those but hey, — and it talked about the dua part will remain even after nothing else does. And then I think I mocked it in the same tone. I totally meant the mocking, you know? Because you’d think it’s a “good dua” while it might not be? And other meanings so f it too.

It’s such an important day I don’t want to use a wrong word. Especially when I’ve kept the decency salamat so far. eh tainting the image now? No please. Wont even dare.

Phew. All our issues and one. This late night. This needed apology. This lack of understanding. And not me. For once, I’m not the issue.

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2020, Paintings and Scribblings

I will go where my soul takes me

Putting my story in front of this huge canvas painting to appreciate the correlation between these two subjects — modes of art — and the spiritual connotation of each. “I will go where my soul takes me…” which I painted to show a juxtaposition of two realms, and a story showcasing the imagery of another world – with a dying man and a prophecy of eternity. ✨

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2018, By the roaring waves!, Photography, Proses

This place, this time.

Some evenings are so breathtakingly stunning you don’t want them to end. Ever. And as everyone else is packing their stuff back in the car while some are already reserving their seats — so ready to return to their homes — you run back to the sea and the sky and the sand asking for one more infinite minute. That is your home.

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2017, By the roaring waves!, Paintings and Scribblings, Poems and poetry

Keeper

Secrets are gifts. They don’t belong just everywhere. A secret lives where lives Love.

I have my grandmother’s stories within me,
and my mother’s, and yours—
Why do I have yours?

I have someone else’s anger, a tragedy from another place in time
Where I wasn’t, where I’ll never be – except in the future of their past
that is already a memory
Numberless faces read out their stories and not one I could tell not to
Like I could not tell you

“I don’t want your stories!” I scream now when it’s too late—
Waking up from a dream, and sleeping into another
Why do I still find you near?

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2017, Photography

Them yum moments

Brownies set in order. Photo for the weekly photo challenge: order.

 

You won’t believe just how many times I have tried posting for these weekly challenges but it would take me an entire week of procrastinating which, of course, left them useless. This one however, sounded too tempting to resist. Objects in order, actions in order, click click click thud – patternized repetition – check, sit, check, sit, check… and other things I have been thinking about lately to write.

So hello, chocolate no-chaos! Even though its arrangement speaks of neatness, something about chocolate says more craving. I got these made from Fresh Oven Bites* and honestly, they were the best I’ve had. Very inspired to bake with the same perfection one day inshaAllah!

(*wish they sent us bonus boxes for free publicityy…?..sigh p;)

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2017, Photography

A boring blog about exciting new things

University starts today! And it’s my fourth year – I find that kind of unbelievable and also amazing! I mean, it almost feels like abhi ki baat that I went through this admission process and now I am writing this with so many thoughts and ideas and memories in my mind, six semesters already down.

universitydiaries_randomlyabstractThe photo above shows a path and a moment I treasure. It’s a pretty simple one actually, May 2015, around 5 pm-ish. We had evening papers and I had got done with mine, everyone I knew had already left campus so the place was mostly empty save a few strangers. And there I sat with a journal and a juice box, my back to a bricked wall, hands busy writing. Favorite kind of solitude.

My experiences here have been great — with people, places, food, friends, events, sfsadgfag. I think I will go into all that later. Right now I will keep ranting about how time slipped so fast, which is again cliched but khair. I remember when my aani was eighteen and shifted permanently to Pakistan, she took a Montessori training course. That woman in that age was my idea of cool. Eighteen was supposed to mean independent, having fun, over the world. Years and years later, on the midnight of my own eighteenth birthday, I was silently crying because I didn’t want it. Nope, skip skip. *Sigh* Now I’m freshly 21 and stepping into my FINAL university year, going to get a MASTERS degree pretty soon (inshaAllah) (not imagining how different life would be after it’s all over) and an aani to a three year old fantastic.

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So the point is I’ve lost motivation to make this post interesting but I still found a title that does justice that one of my most important years is here, like right here, and I am kinda excited, hopeful, yay and also bleh, but mostly looking forward to trying out a newer range of awesome!

*{aani means khala/aunt/mom’s sister. You didn’t know?!}
**happy new year, hi

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2016, Pakistan, Photography, Poems and poetry

I·dyl·lic

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Amidst sky hues,
Setting suns, misty blues,
Silences lapsing into eternities, infinities;
Our poetry calls us to listen.


Took this on my return route from Nathiagali, Pakistan. Got inspired by the daily post’s challenge to share it because this trip meant all sorts of magic to me.

(This week’s horizon makes me want to show it again. I feel a connection with this one.)

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2016, Paintings and Scribblings

soft fumes/peace

A lot of peace. So much of peace.

When nothingness spreads. Takes over and fills in the empty corners inside
Cleanses nooks and corners of your body so your soul can feel holy there. Like it’s in a temple.

A sleep that isn’t your casual escape route. Where dreams don’t push each other like cars chasing in a traffic jam or kid’s throwing blocks in a basket. There’s no hurry and there is no chaos. No tiredness, just serenity. A relaxed mind. A relaxed reality.

No sharp red. No bright sun. Not the scary kind of dark. Not the scary kind of silent. The fear-free, worry-free zone. Nothing artificial nor too temporary. Nothing else. Just peace. The real, real kind of peace. (The one you write about when you want to feel a bit. Not the one we read to read.)

22-Aug-2016

22-Aug-2016

 

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2015, Paintings and Scribblings, Urdu musings

Daam-e-deevangi—دامِ دیوانگی

خوف، غم اورجستجو کی تنگ گلیوں سے نکل کر

کوئی رنگوں میں کھوئے اب ناچنے لگا ہے

اسکے پیروں پر بندھی رسی کُھل کر اتر جو گئی ہے

اور اب ایک پایل

چھن، چھن، چھن بولتا ہے۔

شور مچتا ہے پر آوازوں کی دنیا خالی ہے، کچھ ہے جو آسمانوں سے اتر کر رقص کرتا ہے

کچھ ہے جو

پیچھے سایوں میں چھپ کر روتا ہے۔

اندھیرا اب ختم ہے تو روشنیوں کی چکاچوند بھی بیکار ہے

مگر دل نہ جانے کس کی تھاپ پر نکلنے کو بیقرار ہے

ایسا لگتا ہے جیسے تمام عالم

اس ایک لمحہ کی چاہ میں سب ہی وارنے کو تیار ہے۔

Khauf, gham, aur justuju ki tang galyon se nikal kar, koi rangon me khoye ab nachnay laga hae

Uskay pairon par bandhi rassi khul kar utar jo gai hae

Aur ab aik payal

Chann, chann, chann bolta hae.

 

Shor machta hae par awazon ki dunya khali hae, kuch hae jo asmaanon se utar kar raqs karta hae

Kuch hae jo

Peechay sayon me chupa rota hae.

 

Andhaira ab khatam hae tou roshnion ki chaka-chond bhi baikar hae

Magar dil na janay kis ki thaap par nikalnay ko beqaraar hae

Aesa lagta hae jesay tamaam alam

Is aik lamhay ki chah me sab hi waarnay ko tayyar hae.

ماریہ عمران

MLD_

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Traditions bind sometimes. You don’t follow them, they follow you.

Passion dies. Will to live dies. Silently accepting that, kills.

Self-doubt kills. Self-hate kills. Numbing oneself from observing such death kills, too!

 Fear holds, characters choke. Writers die. // Escape (27.3)
(Created Feb 9, 2015. )
2015, Paintings and Scribblings

A silent death.

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Untitled_ra

My colors cross yours

but our paths never meet.

Maybe we can finally run away

to some place far

and be free

now.

(27.3.15)

Too often, the only escape is sleep art.

2014, 2015, Paintings and Scribblings

Escape (27.3.14)

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