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Thursday, 27 June 2013

Maybe We Need To Stop Living Among Metaphors.



A single puff of dust swoops up from the ground as if conjured by a magic spell. Between the dust that now settles back onto the dry ground, the droplet that has caused this tiny hazard is long gone; already soaked into the depths of the thirsty earth. Gradually the whole space starts being bombarded with such tiny dust bombs, and the burning plane drinks it up as quick. The heat rises evidently out of the ground as the water droplets pick up speed; it trickles out of the ground, prompted by the cooling rain. In no time the rain spell grows in intensity drenching the parched land, the thirsting flowerbeds, the burnt grass, the dry soil. It subsides even before it can trickle down towards an unknown path. 

The drowning sun sends golden waves that glint off the raindrops that cling to each surface. There is a general relief that drifts through the air, soaking people along with the rain. The air resonates with cries of happiness and prayers being send heaven wards. Between the beautiful chaos, that is the rain and the mayhem caused by everything around, she’s caught in the moment. Despair and satisfaction run through her, somehow together. 

The light from the setting sun filters through the window, being the only source of illumination in the gradually darkening room. As if it’s trying to show her the light but she was too much of a coward to break through her cage. Or maybe it was just the light slowly seeping out of sight. Maybe she just needed to stop living among metaphors. 

Between the profound desolation and satisfaction other emotions fluctuate, creating an incoherent tangled mass of feelings that looks like a twinkling star, fading and glowing, and fading and glowing. The satisfaction she was feeling, encased by time in that moment was an oddly familiar sensation. Although, how it sustained with the growing feeling of melancholy and despair was awe engaging. Maybe she had found bliss in her sadness. Or maybe sorrow had become home, the place where the heart was. 

Amidst all this, there was never an ounce of emptiness. The despair was not hollow, neither the silence nor the loneliness. Each was a part of her own, entwined so strongly with her backbone, knotted with her nerves and melded with her blood. She was them and they were her. She weaved her anguish in patterns and found happiness smiling in the folds of it. Why did people assume she was unhappy? She was not.

The monotonous despair had shown her so many colors of life and it had taught her well, too. Everything was there and she was the one revolving in the middle, touching despair, sparking happiness, dying a little while she lived each day. Being a part of everything, everything a part of her. 

The grateful exclamations start afresh as the rain comes down in full haste. The light has all but left her now darkened room but she doesn’t flips the light switch, she doesn’t moves from her place for she is content while watching the hues that dance within her; as her realizations take shape.

-Momina

23 comments:

  1. Took me quite a moment to read it, but it proved to be worth it.
    I love your "she", you know.
    Exquisitely obscure, that is what she is.

    Anyway, I enjoyed the read..

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    1. I am humbled!
      Thank you so much, Khaula!

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  2. Its awesome how you make up such beautiful expressions of emotions and life!!
    a very good Read :)

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    1. Thank you so much, Usama! You are too kind.

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  3. She is brave. A heroine infact

    Lovely Momina :)

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  4. Metaphors can help create a more beautiful and vivid world, as shown here with this amazing excerpt.

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    1. They sure can! Thank you, Mark!

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  5. Omgomgomgomgomgomg.
    MOMINA.

    DUDE.

    This is some exceptionally,gorgeous piece of writing.

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  6. This is so comforting for some reason..

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  7. I love your characters .... they are strong, and real :-)

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  8. What inspired you to write such an intense post?

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    1. The rain, a few dead moments and a little of myself.

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  9. You have a talent to turn simple into splendid. While reading this, I felt that you were describing me. It is as if I lived such a day through your eyes. I have always loved the way you personify the natural events with so much ease. You have done the same here as well. I get the impression that your words are not just fickle of imagination but fragments of your thinking and feelings. This time around, I breathed in your post. :)

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    1. I am overwhelmed by your comment, Sui! To me, the fact that you can visualize what I write is heartening. You are right, they are feelings too. After all, every writer knows that their is some truth in every piece of fiction.
      Thank you!

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  10. "She weaved her anguish in patterns and found happiness smiling in the folds of it." - A timeless quote.

    I am speechless, caught up in the awe of your talent. Loved it.

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  11. I too would like to know the inspiration behind this post.

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    1. It was the rain, dead moments and myself. The heat too.

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