Crazy Ramblings #7

I love staring at the clouds; they fascinate me for various weird and crazy reasons. And lying in the sun, gazing at the white cotton like wisps of clouds is very peaceful, or at least I find it so. Also, I find it beautifully deceptive. Like cotton candy. It seems as if a pure white silken thread is being spun in the clear blue skies, yet when we ascend it’ nothing but a fog like thick illusion. Illusions; isn’t life filled with those. If our fate and destiny are written, then aren’t choices just a delusion? Like common sense, said to be so common, but lacking in every other. Illusions we believe in and take them for granted. But what is life without these illusions? Nothing, they are the reason that we construct so many thoughts. And without them, it’s like staring at a perfectly cloudless blue sky, nowhere to look with something different. No choices to make. Clouds, they are important.

-Momina.

Crazy Ramblings #1 | Crazy Ramblings #2 | Crazy Ramblings #3 | Crazy Ramblings #4 | Crazy Ramblings #5 | Crazy Ramblings #6

Confetti

A thank you, a post and some tags are in order.

Vimal, at Between poles has very kindly awarded me with the beautiful blogger award!

 Insert celebratory noises and confetti! 

I am extremely honored to receive the award and to know that fellow reader and writers think

my talent is worth the awards. It's utterly kind of you, I am overwhelmed, honestly.

Appreciation is always one of the things that make you thrive towards betterment.

I am not a very open person and have already listed eleven fact about myself, so I'll list three this time. Besides listing facts about myself is one of the hardest jobs for me.

1. Many of my pieces are based on a single sentence that I happened to come across while reading.

2. I am not good with compliments, I keep questioning myself over them.

3. I believe that happiness comes from little things that's why I get excited at tiny things.

I'd like to tag some very worthy people for the 'Beautiful Blogger Award'

Cascading Thoughts

Imaginative Spiral

When It Rains

Writing For Life

willowdot21

Enchantments

Let’s weave magic through our words,

Conjure up some delightful verse.

Set it up in beautiful terms

Make it shine, like a perfect one.

Enchanting to anyone who reads,

Meanings, not just two or three.

Alluring and dripping appeal

 Charming in it’s own feel.          

Spin your words like this and that,

Making it exquisiteness to last (always).

-Momina

Fair chances

As the car moved another inch forward I groaned inwardly. The short fifteen hour journey felt extremely tiring to my well rested body. The cars jammed on the single road, as every other person tried to take the lead; the result was obviously havoc. I tapped my foot constantly on the car floor while my friend calmly smoked a cigarette behind the wheel; I coughed hard deliberately, wanting to make a point. But to my utter annoyance he just shrugged and hit the button that automatically rolled my window down. I looked at him, disgusted as I the clean air wafted through the car. I had come to hate these little rolls of nicotine people relied so much one, they did no good other than leaving the person delusional; that on it’s on had another history, of course.

I wasn’t intent on lecturing my friend with my already infuriated mood so I turned my head towards the window, letting out a shaky breath. I looked on to the next car in the glow of the setting sun. A sole figure in the back seat turned its head towards the window. Her eyes were closed as if in deep slumber but her eyebrows furrowed as if the sensation of pain was teasing her, yet, there was so much peace on that face. It was so simple and ordinary that I could have glimpsed of it in a crowd and not look back but right now, it put me on the edge.

I shook my head and looked down as my mobile flashed. A text message, another one. I placed the phone face down on the dash board and put my feet up next to it. I looked back at the girl in the next car. How could one be at peace with pain? The thought bothered me but the face relieved me, it was ordinarily distinctive. I frowned to myself, what was I thinking? But I was drawn to the face again. I imagined getting to know her, befriending her and chatting with her, laughing at a memory…

As the cars edged closer side by side, her eyes opened partially and looked deeply into mine, in that moment I felt something I had never felt before, a jolt, a connection. We held each other’s gaze for a long moment, till her eyes fell closed again. Maybe she was dreaming, maybe I was dreaming. My friend jolted the car forward violently, over taking as he turned in for the airport. I didn’t bother looking back to look for her car, what good would it do? Strangers. Was I delusional without drugging myself?

I rarely thought about her as I said good bye to my friend and got in for immigration and all. Was it possible to feel something yet never be able to know that person? My mind was clogged with old memories as I went through the bag and security checks, memories I thought I had lost somewhere. I still held on to them, I guess, even after all this time. I gave the flight attendant my boarding pass. I was one of the last ones so she smiled and led the way to my seat. The window seat was already taken by someone who had their head turned towards the window. I stuffed by hand carry in the compartments over the seats and sat down next to the lady in the woolly shawl.

The flight attendant arrived again at my side with a glass of water and some pain killers.

‘Ma’am?’ she whispered and the lady next to me turned her face. I felt a jolt in my nerves as our eyes met, the girl from the next car. It’s not delusional; there are always chances to be taken. 

Of Selfishness and Change

I am here; curled up on a sofa in my corner with a cup of steaming coffee and the laptop. There is something increasingly calm about occupying a place where you can sit quietly and observe everything but people ignore you, because you are almost invisible in that spot. It lovely having a piece of mind without anyone around to pry or engage you, and at times these are the very moments that one craves. The ‘me-times’. Are we really selfish beings that don’t care about what goes around? Or do we just care too much?

I think it’s the latter. We care a little too much about others, about what goes around that we forget to pay the required attention to ourselves. To look at ourselves and think of where we might need grooming. No, we are too worried about how the others should behave, dress and speak etc. that we don’t even mind our own. We pay no mind to our own activities as we set on the journey to create a better world.

Change starts from within, from us. We can never bring a change that we want unless we alter ourselves to it first, there cannot be change if we ourselves refuse to change. With every little modification we make in ourselves we grow up a little, we become wiser, we progress and this development only can let us change the world for better.

We need the ‘me-times’; we need them to become a little selfish, to give ourselves a thought and a cleansing. Without being selfish we can never accept being ourselves and without having the confidence of being ourselves we cannot accept nor bring a change. Change from within, change for the betterment not for acceptance.

-Momina. 

Image courtesy: Google.

Standing tall

Raise all the bridges

There’s no way we’re going down

Let the water play,

It’s bound to splash around

We’ll stand tall together,

Nothing will hurt us now.

We might lose our lives,

But our spirits shall never drown

-Momina.

Out of Ordinary

For H, because you are extraordinary and so is this friendship.

The first time I saw her she was seething, and quite honestly I was taken aback a little. A young lady shouldn't be this angry, she should swallow down her anger and speak politely; so was what my mother said, but this girl right here was all that she didnt said, for she shouted at top volume and proceeded to snatch the chocolate out of her friends hand...

The next I saw her was very different though, she was sitting in the library with books around her, confused with her head in her hands and her forehead wrinkled. Eye-brows furrowed as she jabbed the buttons on her calculator whilst I twitched in agony of what the buttons might have felt, she consulted the papers in front of her and frowned again, near to crying…

I sneaked a look at her from the corner of my eye; she was bent over her notebook scribbling furiously. She suddenly looked up at the board and looked down again before her eyes suddenly sparkled as her hand shot up. She spoke a confident ‘I am done’ and then gathered her stuff before disappearing outside. I sulked at my own paper.

I heard a loud laugh and I turned to look, I wasn’t expecting it to be her but it was. She laughed loud and bold; eyes clenched shut and mouth open wide, struggling for breath. Several minutes later I overheard her conversing with her friend. She spoke deeply as she represented her case; she recalled who might have been hurt by something she did or said.

There she was, different and distinct in her very own way; hard over the top and soft inside. She had taught me lessons I have failed to recognize, she has shown me the world through a different set of eyes. She might not be what she looks like, but get to know her and you’ll realize. It’s where the beauty lies.  

-Momina.

Exposed.

The colors are blinding and binding at the same time, the black more pronounced and inviting, drawing me in while I try to open my eyes wide and take in as much of the other colors as possible. It’s like trying to breathe while the air is slowly filing out. I drag my eyes as the blue hues drape my vision. I thrash around in agony as I try to make my way to the center of the swirl of colors.  A sound so high pitched ring in my ears that I leave my grasp and go spinning back to the black edge; I look regretfully back to the rainbow as I am swallowed by the darkness. The obscurity prevails while I am suspended there, as if in still air, there is nothing around; I am sure it’s the end of me yet there is a calmness that surrounds me. Light, so harshly white that I want to be suspended back in the black; I feel exposed as I walk through it, it’s as if a sketch is coming back to life. I have the sudden urge to weep. To sit down there on the white silkiness and cry out my fears, my pains. I feel pain, excruciating pain that haunts me. The white is too much to bear. I feel the tears spring out my eyes, they are red. The red amongst the white seems so vividly alive as it creeps towards me while turning into a deep orange that fades to nothing while the white dims. It’s nothing.

-Momina.

Echoing secrets

It’s in the wee hours of the morning when everything is so still it’s almost sinister, when the silence can be shattered by the drop of a pin, when it’s slightly scary even in the comfort of your own house; it’s in these dark moments that deep thoughts prevail me and I get the urge to write down all those. They are not about my life, these thoughts; they are about life in general, about the laws of nature and about people, strangers and friends alike. 

In these hours nothing makes sense and yet all of it makes more sense than ever. It’s so intricately designed, to be understood but at a certain moment, to be known but at a specific time; when you doubt it. When you suspect the truth of your thoughts and when truth is not transparent but lucid. The reality is so obvious that it’s suffocating.

And as dawn descends my pen just hovers over the paper, it has left splotches of ink; dark blue circles spread across the clear page. I recognize the truth but I have no power to write it, my thoughts reside but my words escape and betray me. A betrayal that doesn't hurts, an infidelity so obvious it is looked over, for these secrets are meant to be realized not spoken. Everyone falls through the reality of these moments, none can flee and none can incarcerate it in words or so. They are meant for all of us alone, secrets of nature that are meant to exist in in nature only. 

-Momina.

Picture source: http://stanzlife.wordpress.com/

Tread it Together!

When there’s not much to say,

And too much has been heard.

Regrets pile up along with each step

The road seems all desolate and dust.

Look for the tiny green sprouting up,

Around you among the dried up crust

Wonder, how in the deserts they mature?

When all tread it together you see,

It’s about time the earth goes soft and subtle

That’s where you are right now, child,

Helping in smoothing land for tomorrow. 

Momina.