The Last Note A Distant Hum Of Tinkling Bells...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/benoitcourti/5057156004/

She blows delicately through perfectedly pouted lips; a gentle blow that causes the shiny liquid layer to swell into a ball and blow off with the light breeze, only to pop seconds later. The air is thick and dry, the atmosphere near barren and devoid of much color. In the midst of it float the few bubbles that waft their way here and there before they snap into tiny unseen droplets of soap. she watches them hover in the air; illuminating tiny rainbows within the delicate little see through spheres, and sighs.

She stands with her back pressed against the back of a red car, a cup of soap mix in her hand, the other clutching a ball point pen lacking its ink fill. Next to her, sitting on the boot of the car is a little kid, like her, clutching half a bottle of slick soapy water and bubble making stick.

They keep there postures intact, not moving besides their heaving shoulders and their cheeks inflating and deflating like balloons as they blow. The midday sun grows fainter over their heads, dropping lower with time while they blow their respective bubbles, watching them flutter in the light breeze. Delightfully, they watch them dance in the wind, enjoying their lives before they are popped away.

At times the little kid shrieks with delight as he streches out to burst a big bubble even before it escapes the edge of her pen, his laugh echoing in the still air, the last note a distant hum of tinkling bells. Sometimes the bubbles shatter as they were blown in. It would burst in their face, smarting their eyes slightly; like a joke with a bad pun.

Just as the sun is on the verge of dipping down and kissing the horizon she turns, tilting the remaining liquid in her glass into the kid's bottle. As she leaves he looks startled, sad and slightly happy at the prospect of more soapy water. Sitting in her car she looks at the anonymous kid sitting in his car porch on his car in the empty neighbourhood who lended her his bubble mix. He continues to blow gently, making bubbles that light up the empty surroundings in the still July air.

She smiles at his innocent form and drives away with slippery soapy hands for a another date with the future.

-Momina.

As The White Broke Through

Chris Carter Abstract

She was sprawled on the slightly damp grass in the wee hours of the morning; the time between dawn and sunrise, when the sky is a dull blue with white peeking from behind. Everything was silent, there was no chirping of the birds, no rush of vehicles or any sound of life. Sometimes in the back ground there was faint groan of an air conditioner or an occasional hum of a generator.



She lay there staring at the few stars that still twinkled in the sky. Her bare feet resting on the tingling grass, her knees bent. One of her hands ran through her hair that spread out like a coal black fire with blades of grass poking through it. The other hand stretched out to the grass, plucking out wisps of it. The world was just a blur of color through her partially closed eyes, like a water-color painting with one color merging into the other without a specified border.

The red of her dress contrasted sharply with the fresh green of the grass in the dull light. The red geraniums bordering the garden made a beautiful border of swaying red flowers. There was a serenity that flowed through the atmosphere. For once no fire burnt in the core of her being, nothing froze her bones till she was a fragile skeleton of ice. Rather, it was the first time she felt humane. There was no tug of war of love and hate but just an aura of joy and contentment that whipped up genuine happiness on its own. Somehow it was touching the light that was the ultimate solace that she had been fighting for.

There was a looming darkness that rang warning bells of doom and despair for her numb senses. And there was the dark past trying to suck her in, intent on creating a vacuum in her present. But then there was this; this happiness, satisfaction, bliss.

This was her final fight. Her mind urged her to stress upon these thoughts, to draw strategies and sense to secure her but the aura of her surrounding (or was it the light within?) It drew her into a slumber of its own. And she floated like a flail bird, resting, drooping lower and lower into an estranged stupor. For one there was no concern of all the deaths suffered already, there was no wake of fear for the future.

She slept in solace as the white broke through the blue, the east swelled with pink and peach hues and the golden shined upon her as people rushed about where she lay in peace.

-Momina.

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

I Have Enclosed Myself In An Infinity Of My Own

It comes down in an even sprinkle, falling straight; gently beating the ground. I watch quietly as each drop falls on my clothes and gets sucked up by their fibers leaving nothing but a tiny dark patch. It would have been nonexistent if it wasn't for the rest of the rain drops slowly soaking me up. My clothes gradually turn a shade or two darker than their original color, my hair dampens and water droplets slip past my face and my half bare arms.

I had dragged a chair to the center of the driveway where there is no overhead shelter, now I sit on it with my feet up, the rain water swishing around the legs of the chair. The heels of my feet rest on the very edge of the chair, my arms around them and my fingers intertwined so my feet won’t slip due to the wet tension. Hugging my legs, my face turned sideways so that I can feel the rain on my face and dousing my carelessly knotted hair.

For a moment I had considered making myself a cup of coffee but I opted against it. So now nestled in the pocket, in the arm of the chair, are several rain-sprayed jasmines that I’ve picked from our garden. Their scent floats all around me, fusing with the smell of the rain. It is so incredibly, crazily beautiful, this moment, sitting enveloped in a self-embrace with nothing but the mingling scent of rain and jasmines and the occasional tweeting of the birds shattering the silence. My far vision blurred for I have long abandoned my spectacles in the wake of this morning rain, hence, I am enclosed in a tiny bubble of my own. It’s so personal, as if the rain falls down for me, only.

It comes down so silently, getting lost amidst the whir of the ceiling fans and the hum of the air conditioners. Nobody wonders how they manage to sleep so soundly when the heat otherwise woke them up every day, every hour. The perks of being an insomniac include experiencing these exquisite early morning rains, whenever they come; earlier than the early risers. You connect with the silence and the beauty because it’s only you.

I've been sitting in the red canvas chair in the center of the driveway, in a sleeping neighborhood with the breeze playing with the hair that has come loose from my bun and the rain drenching me, for the past two hours. I got up only once to encase the sheer ecstasy of these blessed moments in the fold of my words; adding another piece to the plethora of such captured moments.

I am sneezing and slightly cold but it doesn't matter. I've waited for quite long to feel numb like this as I

cherish the rain, silent and lone.

-Momina.

More Love

Hello everyone,

So these have been due for quite a while now, my apologies! Thank you so so much Aqsa and Mani Khaan for tagging me for the 'Liebster award'.

Thank you, Mani. :Dxx

Thank you, Aqsa :Dxx

My utter gratitude to both of me, honestly, your appreciation means a lot and I can't thank you enough for reading and liking my pieces to this extent.

So, I this time, however, I am going to skip the 'facts'.

These are the answers to your questions, Aqsa:

1. Are you an introverted or extroverted person?

I am an introvert who is friends with the most extrovert people.

2.One thing in life that means the most to you?

Definitely my sister.

3. You are woken from deep sleep at 3 in the morning! What will be the first words out of your mouth?

A very incoherent 'What?'.

4. Who do you trust and listen to more, the heart or the brain?

Actually, it's all the brain, I think. So I am not sure.

5. Your passion?

My skills, my ability to write.

6. Your zodiac sign? Do you posses the traits defining your zodiac?

Taurus! I guess I do, most of them, anyway.

7. It is said: 'Don't ask what the meaning of life is, you define it!', so what's you definition of life?

The prospect of life is too complex and vast and it keeps changing daily. I think life is about befriending strangers, trying to love the people you hate, holding on to the people you love. It's about discovering the unseen and feeling. It's about inspiring and being inspired.

8. One word that defines you?

"Wallflower", said Urbah.

  9. There is someone saying bad things about you!...Will you prefer confronting that someone or silently walking away?

I prefer silently walking away, but I am extremely lucky to have friends who'll take me along and confront that person. Thank you, you all! :')

10. Are you a realistic person or do fairy tales mean more to you?

I am a realistic person, fairy tales are stories woven out of dreams, I prefer to only take lessons from them.

These are the questions by Mani Khanna:

1.Most embarrassing moment?

I think my most embarrassing moment would be declaring the most embarrassing moment on the blog.

2. Two wishes.

I wish to own a typewriter someday and I wish people could notice the joy in little things.

3. Dream Job?

As stupid as it may sound, I honestly have no dream job, I don't really plan.

4. Name one person that comes in your mind,

Love: My little sister.

Hate: Nothing really except maybe Chemistry.

Best: My family and friends.

Blog: That pops up several images and names.

Adviser: Parents.

5. Describe me in one word.

Forgiving.

6. One person you wanted to meet, dead or alive?

That list is very long.

7. Friendship is?

Friendship is when you love people for who they are, when you can approach them, point out their wrongs, level arguments. When you love them and hate them, and are at peace with them.

8. A girl and a boy can be friends, justify with a reason.

Of course they can, friendship is regardless of gender. Society condemns a lot that isn't wrong, they just need to complicate things, hence, they make their own rules.

9. Best moment till date?

1st January 2008, the day my baby-sister was born.

10. One thing you are afraid of?

Allah.

11. One thing you don't like to share with people?

Anything at all. I am very personal.

Thank you, once again and lots of love.

-Momina.

The Drug of Joy

 I have been out in the cold for far too long, I cannot even feel the cold anymore. It seems like anything that can chill me now is perhaps warm air, as the chilly breeze-that is getting colder every minute- is having no apparent effect. Rather it's like a drug that is slowly working itself into my bloodstream, not hurting me except that I can't feel my toes and finger any more. I can't hear much either as everything is reduced to a hum that is slowly lulling me into a trance. Far off at the edge of my vision the lights blink in contrast and somehow they beautifully synchronize with the beat of the hum in my ears. Unconsciously my foot starts tapping along to the perfect scenery of blinking lights in the dark horizon. I sit there for what seems like an eternity fighting the urge to get up and shout aloud. My senses however refuse to obey the commands my brain keeps sending and I sit as if drunk staring at the lights, tapping…singing. My spirits are high but my mind numb, my body moves yet I feel naught. I want to trace the sky and leap for the hazy clouds. I spin around in circles giving ecstatic shouts, I want to glide down rainbows and more, all before this crazed fever runs cold, till then I want to let go…

-Momina.

YAY-ness!!!!!

I am very very excited! Yes! It's always been the tiny happenings in life that make me really happy. And I am ever so grateful to both, The Purple Assassin and A Dreamy Girl for lavishing the 'Liebester Award' on me. Honestly, thank you very very much. It means a lot to me, that my writing is worth awards. I am truly flattered!

Thank you, Purple Assassin :D xx

Thank you, Dreamy Girl! :D xx

The rules:
-State 10 random facts about yourself.
-Answer the questions given to you by the blogger who has tagged you for the award.
-Tag more people.
-Give them 11 questions to answer.

I cannnot honestly not think of even eleven facts about myself, let alone 11 for each of you, so here's all I could manage:

-I am 5'8. \m/
-I have a massive sweet tooth.
-I love my baby sister like crazy.
-I am shy with strangers but - "a goofball with friends", as narrated by my friend.
-I desperately want to own a type-writer.
-I write down my favorite lines from each novel I read.
-I really wanted to be a fashion designer, I drew dresses at the back of all my notebooks.
-I am a good listener but a bad speaker, so even if I understand I tend to keep it to myself.

Yep thats about it!
So next up, here are the answers to The Purple Assassin's questions.

1. What is your real name? Why did you choose your current blogger name?
My real name is Momina.

2. Which color do you like the most?
My favorite color is blue, royal blue but I am also crazy about yellow. The nice bright yellow.

3. What is the one thing you found hard to confess about yourself? The one you didn't even mention in you prior confessions?
I am very personal, I do not open up to people easily, hence every little confession or fact about me is hard to express.

4. Do you let the child within you come out often?
Very often but only in the company of family and friends. I am completely loco.

5. Do you really read people's post before commenting?
Each and every word!

6.Do you confess about crushes or do you like to hide it away?
I don't confess about crushes.

7.Chocolate or no chocolates?
Chocolates all the way. Massive sweet tooth.

8.Have you been to India? Is it one place you might be interested to visit? 
I've never been, but I'd love too. There's the similar cultural heritage and so much other stuff that I would love to explore.

9.Do you believe in God?
Very firmly, yes.

10. Do you think of dying often or maybe about killing yourself?
I think of people's reaction when I'd die and I think of how I might die but never suicidally.

11. Will you be my friend?
Of course, I'd love too.

Here are my answers to A Dreamy Gal's questions:

1.What makes you write?
Words for me are everything, but not spoken, written. Hence, I write.

2. The best feeling is knowing that you actually mean something for someone - Who is that person in your life? 
Definetly my sisters, but also a couple of my friends.

3. Meaning of your name? (In case you blog under a pen name, why that name?)
One who has faith.

4. One thing you want to change in life? (It can be people, situation, feeling or even me! :P)
I honestly wouldn't want to change anything, each and everything has lead to where I am, so yeah no changing.

5. 'Life gives you a million reasons to die, but one is enough to keep you alive' - What is your that 'one' reason? (If you have many, pen down all)
Family and friends. My baby sister, if you ask for one.

6. A bloggy/bloggies you would like to thank/appreciate/comments that made difference in your life? (I mean in blogging life. Don't include me, if am I am the one. That's height of bragging I know! :P)
I am grateful to each and everyone of you people, who read my blog. It doesn't matter how many times you've read it, but the feeling you get when you read someones's comment on a post is overwhelming. You people always put a smile on my face, and it's so nice to know that there are so many people out there who can relate to you, and who even without knowing you, appreciate you. You people are beautiful. Thank you.

7. One fear you live with?
Losing my sight, not being able to see those I love and not being able to write and read.

8. A dream which you didn't hope will come true, but did
I don't know, I don't have these big dreams that I want to fulfill. I just go with the flow of life, I don't like to complain or raise my expectations for something that might not happen.

9. Do you prefer to be straightforward, or shy away, or keep mum when it comes to saying some things? (You got the question I hope) 
I am not straightforward, I tend to shy away but I deliver my point in what I think is the right way, gradually.

10. Can you share your best blog post? (That which is closest to your heart, and not as per 'popularity')

My best post would probably be Fire & Ice, because I've felt it, and I've strung the reality, not fiction.

I'd like to tag 
-Ph_
-Enigmatic soul
-Furree Katt
-Talitha
-Mark
-Luara


Questions for you! 

1- Who is the last person you usually think about before going to sleep?
2- Something you do alone, but wouldn't do in front of others.
3- Do you have any strange phobias?
4- One Favorite Novel that you'd like to recommend people to read and why.
5- Do you take the shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? :P
6- Do you use Post-Its?
7-If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?
8-What inspires you?
9- Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving?
10-  Do you ever count your steps when you walk?
11- Have you ever danced without music?

Sun-drenched In Winter Rain

I am sitting outside in the severe cold, in the shade of the porch while the rain beats down heavily around me. The winter rain has left everything looking gloomy and the sky is a dirty blue. The sound of the rain varies as it falls; sometimes falling in lights drizzles and the next minute it's pelting down heavy with utmost noise and clamour. The cup of tea besides me_only been consumed half_ has gone cold and the music ringing through my ear-phones faintly is lost somewhere among the sound of the rain. The only sound is that of rain, distinct and clear, and the occasional thunder when the clouds strike. Like the sound and velocity of the rain, the scene varies; switching between  bleakness and streaks of sunlight. The cool breeze wafts the rain towards me and it dampens my feet and my face as I lean towards it. The rain diverts its direction and the naked wind strikes my face, stinging. I don't move.

My face is numb and I can't feel my body. Thoughts run through my head, unstoppable but my mind's too occupied by the rain; they run like the background noise, trying to lure me towards them but I pay them no heed. They still flip constantly, though, one after the other and never skipping a beat.

My eyes are closed, my mind numb; the sound and smell of rain over-taking me. It's utter chaos yet there's a calmness that can never escape. It's the war of peace. I hug myself, trying fruitlessly to protect myself agaist the wind whipping around me, I could easily walk five steps, go inside, make a fresh cup of tea and sit besides the heater. But I don't... I won't. Realisation strikes when it rains, and getting me inside while it beats down is impossible. I pluck out my ear phone, stuffing them in my pocket. I suppose nothing can chill me further now and with that thought I step out in the open, out in the rain. I look down at the water flooding and clashing around my feet and then upwards as the sun breaks through the clouds, strokes of it coloring everything around. The rain descends still, not bothered by any hinderence and so I stand as rain drenches me. I stand there, paused till the last drop hits my face.

-Momina.

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

Love

Love, what is it, really?

A simple emotion to show that you care and understand, or a complex mode, that envelops you inside itself, making it unmanageable to disentangle?
Love, they say you never plan of falling for it, it just happens. Like meant-to-be’s. Like miracles? 

Love, they say it gives you infinite happiness. Just like taking you over the moon and your frequent visits to cloud nine. Or the feeling when your feet don’t stay on the ground.

I think I know love. I think I understand. Why wouldn't I?

I have seen it happen, I have felt it. I know the gusto of it, I know it’s craze.

It’s blissful. It’s petty.

It’s ecstatic. It’s contagious. 

It’s the serenity of living in a dream. It’s the beauty of being awake in that very dream.

It’s the dream of reality.

Why wouldn't I know love? Why wouldn't I feel it? It’s there around me. It’s not a lover’s kiss for me; it’s my sister’s peck, my friends’ smiles. The laughter and love in all those eyes that are around me. The sparkle and the sheen. I know love and that’s love.

It’s the afterglow that sustains, forever.

-Momina.

Picture source: http://www.facebook.com/HaadPhotography?fref=ts