I saw you in a dream today. It was so unexpected. I think I am more shocked right now because I just now remembered it. It’s 12:33 PM as I write this sentence.
It was very real, ______. It was so real it’s a shocking REALISATION now that it was only a dream.
Dreams complete me because you don’t.
Dreams comfort me because you don’t.
It’s not a big deal. Of course it’s not a big deal. Damn me if I ever return to a non-returnee.
Looking out of my department’s window
University has been one of my favorite experiences. Both studying there and teaching there. It has a special place in my heart.
We friends loved the landscape there. Before I got admission, I remember my cousin telling me on the phone that there was nothing “stunning” about UOK but that the nature of that place, the walls and the jungle, will get to the poet in me. That there was no perfect infrastructure but there was something I would be able to relate to, and I did fall in love with it so her words were cent percent true.
I remember writing in the weirdest spaces, solitary and among crowds. Exploring trees, languages, verses, people, art and spirituality.
Without trying, I also return to thinking about a specific room in the university and a specific person who has impacted me in a way – I guess I just cherish it all but wish I could do more.
A lot of things happened in those years. Things I wish I could pull down from my memory and put in words, like how Dumbledore caught a streak in his wand and placed in the Pensieve. Alas, such memories are so elusive. But also, I am not even trying yet. They are where they are.
And that’s how I deal with memories. Revisiting, but not entirely.
Tumhe phool torna pasand hai na? Tumhe sukoon milta hai. Aik aik kar ke saray pattay kheench daalti ho. Tum unhe masalti ho tou samajhti ho sari dunya ko round dal rahi ho. Hansi ati hai tum pe kyunke tumharay hi haathon me unki khushbu reh jati hai. Tum un se chutkaara tou nahee pa sakti jinhe khatam kartay kartay khud kaheen door nikalti ja rahi ho.
Mai unhe kahan khatam karney ja rahi hun. Mujhay tou maaloom hai wo in gulaabon ki tarha ke loug hain. Gulaab aur kaantay. Mujhay pehlay unki khushbu mili aur qareeb gayi tou kanton me ulajh gayi. Mujhay unse kia shikayat – aur na khud se.
Tumhe kisi se shikayat nahee na? Jabhi yun deewanaypan pe utar rahi ho. Khud ko in lehron me utaarti ja rahi ho jahan shor hi shor hai. Shor me khona chahti ho mujhay na banao mai tumhari rag rag se waqif hun.
Aap ko kahan bana sakti hun aap se hi tou sab maangna hai ab. Mujhay shor acha lagta hai us me rehnay dain. Mujhay isi shor me apni khamoshi chahye hai. Mai in lehron me itna door nikalna chahti hun ke agar in gulaabon ki thori bhi khushboo meri lams me rehti ho tou nikal jaye. Kaanton se rasta khoon ab tham jaye. Mai qabar nahi ban sakti in madfan phool kabaar ki. Mujhay in sab se bohat door apni dunya banani hai.
Dekha, wuhi baat. Tum bhaag rahi ho faraar chahti ho aur wuhi kar rahi ho jo har darpok insaan karta hai. Mujhay tum pagal lag rahi ho is waqt.
“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.
I do wish I could tell you about this but I dont know you.
We three are in some transition modes. Or like, some major life points. All three. Very different, some you would call more important than the other and youd be right. But dil hai na. Dil feels enough all the time. Like how they say about pain. Ke you cant say one suffered more than the other. I mean you can actually. But if you drop the comparison thing altogether…. then we can come to our second point:
We are all pretty empathetic. We dont blame each other. At least thats what I think and believe. About them too. So we give each other the space even when we need it so much but in our own spheres this all-of-it is hurting and messing up.
So I would know that I am hurting. But I also know theirs can be bigger in magnitude because of course. I think the thing is that we can’t all be with each other this time. We know it will settle but letting it settle like this is a lesson itself.
( We are unaware of each others background stories this time. Ideally we should be with amd without in it but realistically things run not like that. I edited to add this bit as well as cut one word from above. Because shit )
How fake am I? If I was head to toe fake, I would become unreal. And that isnt possible. So I am being hard on myself.
But in this world in this time, fake and real are so mixed up. Ethereal matters. You think your head is one and your heart another. Yo soul what was your game?
Things have of course changed.
My phones battery is low and I have an alarm set on it. Pity. I couldn’t even write about the important things. Such drama. And here I choose the title of this post. Or not.
I am not even thinking. Or am I?
I never told you and never heard it. But when morning sun rises its especially assigned metaphor does too. Bless hope. Burn hope.
I never told you but I wonder if you kind of knew. You know, kind of. And wonder is the keyword. Because what else are we capable of? Oh existential dread.
I want to write something poetic. If I thought of you long enough, maybe I could. But who has the energy? I mean, even you would know that. Neither of us.
Ouay huay huay yaar. What sadness mashaAllah. Like not exactly sadness – and here I am tryna put on a nice and decent facade – honestly well I don’t like this pronunciation of the word and would rather it be called faCAde please. Acha khair.
So basically I have been somewhat stressed. This time I’m not even talking to the anonymous listener kinda thing though the fact that I was reminded of them today speaks to me about the obvious halat. Other things also remind me of that because I remember being in this phase before. For other reasons but I remember this and I am imagining if this is stronger in any sense now. Because of any and everything at its root.
Do you mind talking about sadness? Is it a hard topic for you? I have been teaching some Japanese students and I give them a few personal writing exercises and man, what an experience that is. Like I am allowed to do that but I won’t cross that line and still enjoy a glimpse into THAT creative side. Pretty wow you know.
Also what else. We have another book fair at university these days, tomorrow being its last day. My voice is kharab suddenly, the kind of it some people like especially. Today we went to a mall. I don’t like malls I dunno why. But we had fun. I guess it’s shopping that I don’t like. And whatever. Etc means ends of thinking capacity aka spare me because I’m not bound to complete this sentence. Uff.
Okay anyway. Here’s to speaking better some other day. Allah bhailay.
OH ALSO I read a book after AGES matlab can you believe that? I had 100% stopped reading – actually not hundred because I tried and all that but it must’ve been like do saal or so. And I read Dan Brown this week. Such a good feel, seriously.
Also I WROTE after so long. Matlab I was going back home and chaltay chaltay I change my direction and there is this huge sports ground and I start in its direction and then I am sitting on that stair type (mundair? but better) and I open my bag, take out enough content until I can pick this black notebook and WRITE. I write in roman angraizi because it’s really a mix of Urdu and English and I vent. Like now but more secretive. And I get it off (only to that very extent as it goes) and bus. I put it all back and continue on my way and take a bus and go home.
Acha khair. Allah bhailay for reals now
ایک آپ کی چاہت ہے اللہ جی۔ میری چاہت بنتی ہے تو کونپل، سمٹتی ہے پھر گہرا کنول۔ پھوار پڑتی ہے پھر گویا اوس پڑ جاتی ہے۔ سوکھے کانٹے گرنے لگتے ہیں اللہ جی دل تو گوشت کا ٹکڑا ہے، سہار نہیں پاتا۔ دیکھتے ہی دیکھتے میری چاہت پر سنؔاٹا چھا جاتا ہے جیسے پھول کنویں میں جا پڑا ہو۔ کبھی بعد میں، اتنے بعد میں کہ کنویں کی دیواروں کے کان ترس گئے ہوں، آواز آتی ہے: ’یہ میری چاہت ہے خدایا۔ میری چاہت سن لیجیے لیکن صرف تب۔ ۔ ۔‘ اور یہاں تک آ کر پھر سے پھوار پڑتی ہے۔ یکایک موسلادھار بارش۔ کنویں کی دیواریں گونج اٹھتی ہیں۔ ’صرف تب خدایا جب اس میں تیری چاہت بھی شامل ہو۔‘
Aik Aap ki chahat hai Allah ji. Meri chahat banti hai tou konpal, simat’ti hai phir gehra kanwal. Phuwaar parti hai phir goya ous parr jati hai. Sookhay kaantay girnay lagtay hai Allah ji dil tou gosht ka tukrra hai, sahaar nahi pata. Dekhtay hi dekhtay meri chahat par sannaata chhaa jata hai jesay phool kunwain me ja parra ho. Kabhi baad me, itnay baad me ke kunwain ki deewaron ke kaan taras gaye hun, awaz ati hai: “Ye meri chahat hai Khudaya. Meri chahat sun lejiye lekin sirf tab…” Aur yahan aa kar phir se phuwar parti hai. Yakayak mosla dhaar baarish. Kunwain ki deewarain gonj uthti hain. “Sirf tab ya Khudaya jab is me Teri chahat bhi shamil ho.”
It’s so frustrating when you’re tryna find something but mil ke na de. I spent some hours I think, right now, just to find that journal first and then those papers from it. Matlab aasman kha gaya zameen nigal gayi. Pfft. It was this thing I wrote and I so badly needed it right now but looks like I tore those pages from that journal lest it gets lost in the pile (I have LOTS of js), and kept them somewhere where I would’ve thought back then ke yahan tou mai dekhungi hi. But now I have that journal and not those pages. Major sigh moment.
I also have thousands of papers so it’s not possible to check them all at least rn but what are my safe places? My drawer? Some folder? Gah man. There aren’t many options. Like I have some bags, this book cabinet and drawer (aka house of mess and treasures) and I’ve checked them all. I couldn’t have given it to my teacher even though we talked sth about it. What could have I done? Where. Tap tap tap.
I did find lots of poems though. Some letters. Doodles. Many lectures. And that kind of writing where you are simply jotting down your complex mind’s oodles. Is oodles a word? Looks like it is. But it doesn’t seem to fit here. You get the point though, no? My university journals are like history books. They contain so much randomness from my life because they had those, um what do you call it, segments kinda thing and I would use one for myself in each because even though I kept a separate notebook at first I realised I didn’t need to keep my journals JUST restricted to notes. Aaye such long sentences do I even make sense. Right now in front of me I have 10 pretty, spiral journals. Or notebooks, whatever you wanna call them. They’re diff sizes but all of them have beautiful covers. Random, traditional, artistic, that sort.
M said make dua agar wo cheez loutni hui tou miljaegi. Y also said ab wo achanak hi milay gi. So I’ve paused my search operation for now and instead wrote about it. Sigh again, isn’t that how we people deal with loss or things that hint of being/becoming unattainable?
Okay whatever. Too late now. Toodles.
—
UPDATE: FOUND IT. I SUDDENLY REMEMBERED IT WAS ANOTHER JOURNAL, LIKE THE SAME COVER BUT A BIGGER ONE AND THEN I WENT TO MY LIL ART ROOM AND IT WAS IN THAT NEW DRAWER. SAFE AND SOUND. Alhamdulillah ❤
I should’ve posted a better photo but you know what time it is?
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,
self-confidence, self-whatmore
then the way to you is laced with danger
and I cannot miss the signs anymore
… except that I haven’t shared the first one yet. But I’m doing it now, okay? Let’s start!
Spoiler: It’s about university. And becoming a gold medalist. Twice.
Okay so remember when I posted that ‘when you’re happy and you know it’ kinda post about happy news and desi reactions and all that? I totally meant to share the news itself as well later but… you know me, and I know me, and well, yeah. So what happened was that I topped from my department in my BA (Honors) course. And then, now that is, I topped again in my Masters. Woohoo, Alhamdulillah!
What were my subjects? Glad you asked. Because it’s funny I never shared anything here. Yikes, I mean. I always meant to, though. Just like how I always meant to write about my vacations last (se bhi last? will have to check) year, about meeting some fav people from the blog, about university life itself, about this and that and everything. I had to write. (And I did, y’know. Just not here. Just not on a paper or a screen.) Also, obviously, I had to write about why I didn’t write any of those or whatever which is getting boriiing now AND ANYWAY WE WERE TALKING ABOUT THIS GOLD MOMENT which means this should be a happy post and yayyy virtual cakes and all that. We were talking about my subjects?
My main one was URDU. YEP. Could have you guessed? I actually just tried to master (like, well technically I did just that so yeah?) my own language and I am super happy about that right now. My side subjects (also called minors/ subsidiary subs) were English literature and Psychology. And in the same duration I also did a two-year certificate and diploma course in Persian language. So as it looks, I was completely surrounded (entangled? absorbed?) with languages and literature, and then cultures and histories and zindagis and everything. It was a good time. Wait. I miss university.
But I also can’t wait for the good adventures ahead Inshaa Allah, and some day I’ll update you on that. Sup, you?
Randomly Abstract 