It’s suddenly so cold.
I’ll always miss you.
Will I always miss you?
It’s suddenly so cold.
I’ll always miss you.
Will I always miss you?
“Don’t run on the stairs, Maria”
“Miss, I am Moniba”
Or was it vice-versa? 😂 Even the memory is jumbled now but we know it was Miss Ismat who scolded one of us and smiled the very next moment because she had mixed us up. And it wasn’t the only time it happened. Oh, not at all!
We got asked in the lift as well. And then we would always measure if we actually looked that alike. Lekin kahaan se? Oh and your maami’s. 😁 and then “are you sisters?” even in university. Yes, yes we are.
But one of my favorite twinning memory has to be sharing our pair of shoes while going to Taye abba’s. A school shoe and a casual chappal wappal. Best. Feeling. Ever. 😆
Not even a day to your Nikkaah and here I am, far but there. May Allah always keep us close. 💜
Ily. So much so much so much.
MashaAllah, Alhamdulillah and everything good.
if difficulty is danger
and so is insecurity
anxiety-ish, that deep twist in the stomach,
if danger means this spikey knife
set in between (standing upright)
to pierce through my self-esteem,
then the way to you is laced with danger
and I cannot miss the signs anymore
My friend texted me to say she saw me in a dream and misses me. I couldn’t help but feel awfully helpless remembering I saw you in a dream too. How I wish I could tell you.
I want you to know that it’s been immensely long but I am going strong, and yep, it’s because I crafted another challenge for myself of which already a large part has been spent but still, still your name comes up everyday in my mind, and though I’m trying, I cannot forget you enough because I heard enough means letting go.
Letting go means cutting open and slicing out a part I’ve kept so close.
It’s amazing how this is! Because there’s no real string (like a real tangible truth) binding these. These, as in, this thing in the heart and your place in the…heart? and the future that holds neither. Wow, what a thing to bear.
The only way this can really reach you is when you claim it yourself. Which is another way of saying: agar wo pooch len hum se kaho kis baat ka gham hai// tou phir kis baat ka gham hai agar wo pooch lain hum se. Oh okay, I just added this one because it wouldn’t leave me otherwise. You get the point.
I sometimes search for you amid crowds When I write again it won’t be about you.
It’s night and still hot. I am sitting cross-legged on the balcony’s floor, this black diary on my lap, and vibrant blues, orange and yellow underneath it: the colors of my shirt. Before me is a silent city even though it’s only after-dinner time. It’s only too soon to be writing this.
Or is it?
I am almost tired of using different words to say the same thing: I miss you. Here, take it from me. Jaan jati hai jab uth ke jatay ho tum.
I could still show the pieces of your then-polluting, now-rotten heart, and prove to the world it was not I who was mistaken. I can also present myself as an evidence — a heap of mess, covering blisters caused by the burst of these emotions that never wait too long to spill. Ah, your name still holds magic.
تمہاری یاد آج بھی زخموں پر نمک کا کام کرتی ہے۔۔۔ چاہے یہ الفاظ استعمال کے ساتھ اپنی وقعت کھو ہی کیوں نہ چکے ہوں۔ ہاں، جلتے پر تیل، زخموں پر نمک۔ اچھا خاصا تمہیں بھول چکی تھی کہ آج ڈرائیور نے کہا کوئی دروازے پر پھول چھوڑ گیا ہے۔ پھول تو تمہاری طرف سے نہ تھے مگر ایسا تم کتنا کیا کرتے تھے! صدیاں تو بیت گئی ہونگی؟۔۔۔ اب کون سے پھول، کہاں کی خوشبو! ہاں مگر پھول تو آئے تھے۔ میں نے ڈرائیورسے پوچھا ان پر کوئی کارڈ لگا ہے کیا؟ جواب ملا، ہاں شاید۔ تو میں نے اس سے گذارش کی کہ خود ہی پڑھ کے بتا دے۔ مجھے تو ان سے وحشت آتی ہے! بیچارا حیرت سے دیکھ ریا تھا، پڑھ بھی دیا۔ کسی اور نے بھجوائے تھے اور بھجوائے بھی کسی اور کے نام تھے! میں تو سن کر ہنسنے لگی۔ ڈرائیور کو کہا ساتھ والے بنگلے میں جو سارہ بی بی رہتی ہیں انہیں کو دے آوٗ۔ ان کے لئے آیا ہے اور دیکھو یہاں پہنچ گیا! کوریر والے سے غلطی ہوگئی ہوگی۔ غلطیاں تو خیر سب ہی سے ہوتی ہیں۔ مجھ سے بھی ہوئی تھی۔
میں لاوٗنج سے اٹھ کر اپنے کمرے میں آگئی۔
He said I couldn’t tell him which color the skies were anymore, that it doesn’t bother him what I presented in class today or what my teacher commented, and it doesn’t matter at all if we never wish each other sweet – or spooky – dreams.
In fact, he said, I should talk to him as less as was possible from now on. Or don’t talk at all, if you will, please.
He stands up and leaves when he hears me bickering with my brother for not buying balloons. I turn to him and ask if he got me 21 candles and he scorns. Grow up.
Grow up? But I am growing up. And growing up, I have realized that I don’t need to say yes when I mean no. He doesn’t like it though.
When our first and only border came in between, we could not face each other for days. Because the silence in our eyes made the air sick, and our unstoppable laughter on lame-ass jokes hung behind them, hushed. It only made everything unbearably sad.
He says we cannot be friends either if we can’t be more. And I step back, back, and back. But it doesn’t seem fair that we will both disappear into a thin, black line on the horizon and never be able to see the other catching colors too. Or making them. Or breaking.
Last time when you came,
asking me if ’twas okay
smilingly, I had lied
Let me tell you now
every time you come and go,
‘tis not alright!
today I miss you as I do
every single day and night!
Do you know what’s the most a person can give you?– His trust.
It is when he tells you about his little joys and simpler things that matter;
Simple sorrows, acts, and fears that him do shatter
That you know he is trying, and it’s not so easy
Unfurling his soul he could slowly be dying, you see.
Really, read him not a dream now if you dare not make it
Bear in mind: The cruelest way to kill is to fake it.
Especially so, when he hopes you could mend holes in his soul
Destroy him not. Leave if you may, but let it be when he is whole.
I trusted you with
I told you things which
Should have otherwise been
You fed me lies. Failing me
Once, and twice, and then
Today’s poetry prompt is ‘trust’. These three that you read above are not really linked, but they follow the same theme. They also follow the acrostic form, in which the first letters of each verse (as highlighted) together make unique words.
This one was quite challenging for me, and though this isn’t my best, I have thoroughly enjoyed experimenting. 🙂
Image via chrisspagani.com.
“Abba ki death ke baad ziada sukoon hae, nae?”
(This place looks calmer now that dad is gone, no?)
“You think so?”
“Yes.” she nodded.
They were older now. Older and distanced by a time so long and tough that it had practically torn apart every and any chances of reconciling. Standing by the giant glass window, she looked out at the world outside which had now accepted peace. The world which had decided to move on, as it always does. Where ever she looked there was peace, except in her home: her heart.
“Look here at me. You think life is better now? Show me if your eyes say that too.”
“No,” she silently whispered. She clutched the silver pane with both her hands so he won’t see they were trembling. Stupid fingers! Stupid eyes! How they reveal your weaknesses to wrong people at all the wrong times…
He stepped forward. “Aena! This is not good. You have to talk to me. I have come to take you. I am going to make things right like we want!”
“This is not what I want. Hessam, this isn’t it.” She shook her head. “I have come out of it and you should too. It’s high time we start respecting each other’s independence and just let things be.”
“What do you mean by that? I am not stealing away your freedom or anything. All I want is you come and stay with me and Rebya now. I want you to be happy!”
“Why? Why live with you when I can live with myself on my own? First I had ma, then dad, and now you want to boss me? Please, NO! I am happy the way I am and I am glad our ways are already parted. We can be free and drive our lives the way we want!” she said.
The color of his eyes changed. Was he hurt? Perhaps. But he shouldn’t have been… After all this time, he deserved nothing to be hurt about. All pains were hers.
“See, I understand your want for freedom.” He said after a while. “And I am not going to be an obstacle between that. You can come with me and do what you want, live it your way. It’s just that I feel you should be with me, and not alone over here. How will you deal with everything? We have both lost something precious Aena. It’s a hard time for both of us.” Looking at her, he said with a voice laced with sincere emotion: “I want you to know I am with you!”
“Precious, Hessam. How precious it was for you!” she laughed in her heart while resisting her urge to laugh out loud too, crazily. She wanted to laugh until her insides hurt. But she would do that once he was gone, her mind decided.
“They are both gone but we need each other, Aena. We need to gather back the moments we have lost. Sometimes I miss you so much, God, Aena, you remember when I taught you how to ride a bicycle?”
Aena looked at him surprised. Why must he bring back the memories now? Now?
“Remember when you had finally learned it you would keep nagging me to let you ride us both to school on that big grey one I owned? We both sat together and I was so proud, and a little embarrassed, but mostly proud (he laughed) and then I bought you a pink one on our birthday so we would both ride on our own bikes.”
“Our birthday,” she breathed.
They had birthdays on the same day. Because God-the-good had decided to hand them out their fates on the exact day and instructed their souls to go down then into their mother’s womb… But Hessam will go half an hour before you, Aena. Okay? Just thirty minutes.
Hessam had gone half an hour before Aena. Aena had waited thirty minutes after Hessam. He had left her earlier because it was so destined. There was joy everywhere.
He was saying something. Probably about the bicycles or the school or their birthday. She wasn’t listening until he called out her name.
“Yes, yes. I remember. You don’t need to use this against me now, it won’t change my plans, alright? Don’t try! You shouldn’t try!” her voice raised despite her trying to stay calm.
“I am not changing your plans, Aena. I am just surprised how much YOU have changed! You are so cold, so different, Aena. Don’t you hold any compassion for relations as close as blood’s anymore?”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I carry no compassion whatsoever. I have a heart of stone, if asking for a right to be free makes you think of me as that. I have cared enough for everyone and now I want to be my own responsibility. Go, and let me live!” her voice was strong and came from somewhere she didn’t belong to. It was indeed different, he thought, how his sister had grown up so much and become so… brave.
“I am my own responsibility now,” she repeated– softly this time– as if trying to coax him… Hoping deep inside her heart he won’t agree. Hoping he would somehow ask her to drop the facade and end this drama so they would both cry and tell how they’ve missed each other and how it was impossible to “let go” now that they had already let go of so much. She thought of the pens and chocolates he bought for her, when they were young, and how ma would make them both parathas before school. How dad would hand them out sikkas (coins) for their daily expenditures from which they’d both buy cones.
“Yes. You are right.” he said slowly. And moving towards her he put his hand on her head. “Time has changed, my lovely twin, and it’s not your fault. You have every right now to change time as per your command.” “I am proud of you, Aena. You are one brave woman. I shouldn’t be selfish to ask you what is against your will. And I am sure you will handle your life pretty well, inshaAllah. Just know that I am always there, always a call or email away. I will come to you whenever you want, and so would Rebya. We all love you and you can come to us, too, whenever you feel like it.”
He smiled. She managed one too.
“I know that bhaiyya. Thanks.”
He kissed on her forehead, erasing for a minute whatever these years had collected between them, and whatever hardships she had bore alone.
After that he was gone. Gone forever to his land where he lived with his wife a happy life. Aena had apparently given him permission to be the man he was; the satisfaction seeking which he had come back. Now he was free of the burden he was carrying before, and gone because Aena was free and happy, and very settled in her ancestral home! She had peace, he thought, and now he would too.