Disguised

‘So that’s the girl who called me by the endearing word on thy phone’, he said to his friend.

‘Fret ye not boy, it’s kinda like her pet word so she says ‘darling’ to everyone. Don’t get over excited.’

‘Oh…’ you could tell that he was a little disappointed.

He walked over to where she stood looking nothing like the feminist she really was; she wore the same coveralls as them, faded and old. Of course he wasn’t expecting to see ball dresses but he wasn’t expecting the similar attire too. Hair tightly bound in a bun and feet clad in ugly boots. 

‘Here you are! I got to run, but Miss Johnson this is Mister Neeson. Mister Neeson, miss Johnson‘, a lift of his cap and colonel Dave was on his way.

‘Afternoon! We talked on the phone today.’ Up close he could smell a hint of flowery cologne.

‘I bet we did but I am afraid I don’t remember much. I’d prefer if phones came with videos. You get a fair idea of what to look forward to.’ She smiled a measured smile.

‘Indeed but in that case you’d probably get a few too many prank calls, I am afraid. But you do look quite into the future.’ He could almost smile to himself, almost.

‘Yes thank you!’ she looked away.

‘I have never seen women here before…aren’t you afraid? There are not many women in this kind of field, and frankly speaking I believe it’s a man’s work’s place.’

‘don’t you know that women are now doing as good as men’ she said the word ‘men’ as if she didn’t really like it ‘in fact, they are going much faster, I belief.’

‘I am familiar with that, but not in this field, it’s much too dangerous and women are far too…’ he swept a glance over her slim frame ‘…delicate.’

Irritated she brought her face close to his, ‘Not me Mr. Nelson’ she said irately and started to walk off.

‘It’s Neeson! Well I hope you know how to handle a gun then, Johnson.’ he called on.

‘Don’t worry Neeson I do, very well.’ She yelled back as she covered up her eyes with shades ‘and much better than most of your men’ with that she stepped out into the sun and away.

‘Good for you Johnson’ he whispered to himself looking at the retreating figure with a twinkle in his eyes.

Momina.

Unsaid

Mind if I tell you something?

Mind if I spill it all,

I do have shoulders to cry on,

I do have friends to call.

But I rather not answer their questions.

The piercing reality of all,

Secrets left hidden,

Are sometimes best untold.

Momina.

Pondering over the incredible.

This world amazes and it continues to after seventeen years, and I have a feeling it will keep on doing it. It's like playing a mystery game. I never gave it much thought before but it's really… incredible. It holds so so many people within with so many different opinions and yet still they live here, together. Whereas, even when one fights with two sides of himself he eventually looses to one, people with big hearts and little knowledge, people with big wallets and shallow hearts, people on their own, people who live for others, people so unlike one another. Incredible! Apart from the people there is much to contemplate about. Like, the world is round so there might be people living right beneath us, after we cross all those rocks and magma and what not, but they will be there but, we never know we might be the ones hanging down without knowing! Imagine what will happen if suddenly gravity is switched off! We wouldn’t just be floating around in our house, we'd soon be floating up up and away, away from our protected atmosphere right into the sharp claws of vacuum, space! And we wouldn’t be having all that equipment and glass (or are they plastic?) helmets like astronauts! Point to ponder, right? And what about all those huge glaciers, oceans, volcanoes and every other enormous and amazing things created by god, that’s becoming right up after us, in space? Ever wondered that how many incredible galaxies are around us? Holding as many creatures as us who might be exploring this universe just like humans are? Ever considered how the very things we rely on will cause our defeat?  Imagine how much more threatening our creations are to us than a mere human who is just like us! The world is great, majestic, magnificent and enigmatic! There's a lot more to it then we realize and every time it will open a new surprise to us. Incredible, isn’t it?

Momina.

picture from: http://www.facebook.com/Urbah.V.Photography

Mercy!

The winds get crisper,

The roads get longer

The dark is unbearable

The fear is intolerable        

And death, inescapable

Then you pray for benevolence???

'wah ray musalmaan!'

Momina.

when it happens...

She got up from the bed and stood in front of her full length mirror, she had been crying for days her tears had dried up now but she wept on anyways. She starred mutely at her reflection; pale as paper, eyes all swollen up and blood red, hair all messed up like clothes. She hadn’t bothered eating either; the pain was too much for that. She wanted to break the mirror but then she recalled what she used to say whenever she heard people doing that, 'what do they get out of breaking all their precious stuff?'

Satisfaction, she got the answer. She wouldn’t break something ever, but she went ahead and did it anyways, breaking the mirror to pieces. And it felt way better than sobbing it all out. So she went to the kitchen and took out the old crockery set she was meaning to give to the charity, smashing it seemed so much more reasonable now. One by one she shattered the plates by throwing them against the floor or the wall. Her arm cut twice but she couldn’t care less, she wailed loudly and helplessly the tears floating in her eyes, blurring her vision. Suddenly the air felt so musky and dirty she took her throbbing outside where she somehow crashed right on the main street.

When she woke up all she saw was white; White walls, white sheets, and white floors. It took her a moment to realize that it was a hospital room.  She felt drowsy and far from reality but as soon as the door opened she felt as if every color in the world had exploded turning that white room into heavens. Like a box of paint had been opened and thrown violently around, only it looked beautiful; every color so distinct and bright.

Laying there all rosy and pale she smiled to herself as she looked into the eyes of a complete stranger who looked like an old friend, for she had fallen in love with him at the very first sight. He looked back at her confused and then came over and sat in the chair lying close to the bed.

'Hi, you…um fell in front of my car so I brought you here. They say you are better now, you are! Aren’t you?' he looked at her gently 'I know! The stupor will wear off; it's because of the meds.'

He seemed to have read her mind. He spoke too much, speaking on and asking her questions she couldn’t answer. She used to be that way. She was such. She spoke a lot, too much and at times it would cause her so much trouble. She had a wild take on life, nothing quite like anyone, always speaking her mind, doing things no one else would. Yet, in front of this completely beautiful stranger she couldn’t say a word; she could but she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to scare him off; she just wanted to hear the voice that brought her tranquility all so unexpectedly. Maybe she had lost her voice. When he got up to leave bidding her a good bye she shook her head quickly and held on to his hand without meaning to.

'Don’t worry! Um… I will call someone over to keep company.' He said then he got on to the phone whispering to someone.

He left her with that girl who at first she had mistook to be his girlfriend but who was actually his sister. With her, she found, she could talk and speak freely but as soon as he came back into the view she surely lost her voice. She reacted late due to all the medicines, but she responded by shaking her head, nodding or smiling with him. She could listen to him forever. She noted that he spoke meaningfully between sentences, he'd be talking of something so distinct and somewhere in the middle he'd compliment her or he'd say some words of great inspiration and meaning and she couldn’t react before he'd be too far off telling her something completely different. He opened up his life for her, telling her stories from his past and events that he hoped would take place in the future. He was careful of what he said and did, for him life was all about keeping his closest possessions safe and acquiring all that was within his potential. If he wanted something he'd surely get it.

He was so much unlike her still so appealing. During all these chats she'd sit locked in the trance of his voice, eyes and smile barely registering anything else.  She knew he had heard her talk to his sister, she once saw him standing by the door while she spoke rapidly like she did until she saw him and then it was the colors bursting all over again and her speechlessness. In all her life she hadn’t been as wordless as he made her. So different.

She was finally out of the hospital and he was dropping her home. They were in the car and the rain had left all the windows fogged up yet it didn’t exasperate him, he drove as calmly as ever, whereas, if it had been her she would have been cursing and complaining. Not now though, she quietly drew on the fogged up window while listening to his voice. He was telling her of some recent dealers he had managed to get into a big agreement.

'… I could see all the profit but my fat boss couldn’t. But I get what I know is mine, just like you, so I got them right back and made an agreement with them. And you'll see the profit that will bring us in less time, the economic values will rise and the demand will too…'

She abruptly sat straight in her seat for a minute then pinching herself she looked at him questioningly. And that’s when he looked right back at her, smiled and said

'You are, aren’t you? Mine to keep. Forever' and all the colors exploded all over again.

Momina.

 

no curtain call.

She came swinging from the strong cord; hair flying, her dress soaring with the action and she bumped into him and they both toppled to the ground, staring into each others' eyes with such deep emotions.

With that the curtains were closed and the crowd was on its feet, applauding.

She makes sure the curtains have been drawn before hurriedly getting up from where she had fallen on top of him. She dusts herself and looking around, because she doesn’t want to look him in the eye.

'Um…nice show…I got to change' she says and rushes to her changing room.

He raises his eye brows but doesn’t say anything as he lifts himself off the floor and looks around. He can hear the praises of the crowd also the sounds of it shuffling out the doors of the theater. The crew has already started clearing the stage. The director doesn’t looks up from where he's already planning out the next play. He doesn’t comes up clapping his hands and shouting 'good show, brilliant!' like he used to.  Sigh, people change to fast. He signals to one of the men and he hastily gets him a coke can. At least the love of acting remains, he thinks to himself peeking behind the curtains at the bare hall. He makes his way to the dressing room.

She's all changed and washed; Wet hair dripping and hand bag ready on her shoulder. She hangs her costume on the rail and turns only to find him coming in sipping coke.

'Great show right? Coke?' he holds a spare can in his other hand which she hadn’t notice. But she knew he wasn’t sharing his own. Maybe.

'Yes! Thanks.'

'I do like the ones themed on love. So deep, right?' he makes it sarcastic.

'Very! Not that it really matters, it's all acting and people are so easily fooled' she says with a nervous laugh.

'They sure are, but it's only so long till they are fooled. Deep down they know the truth, don’t they?' he really means it this time.

'Yeah I guess…'

'Then why not stop the act for those who know the truth. Why lie to their faces? Why not tell them the truth? Make it easy for both'  he is now standing close to her, looking at her intensely while she looks down at her feet.

'Maybe it's not the right time? Maybe not the truth...... I got to go' she passes him and gets out the door but what he says stops her in her tracks.

'But don’t you see it is. The perfect time or the perfect place might never come; maybe this is the ideal time. Say it! You might not get the chance again'

She smiles, she turns 'but I don’t have to say it when you know it'

'I know it' he says and envelopes her in a heartfelt embrace.

This time there is no curtain call, no music and no applauds. It's real, it's love.

Momina.

Seclusion II

I could feel the frost around me, random thoughts bombarding me but not bothering to stay. I could feel the hesitation, the hope, the regret. Disappointment. A prayer said silently for what stands ahead, wishing it won't go unheard like the rest. My steps are slow and I have an intense feeling that they won't take me much far. I barely know where I tread neither does my semi-consciousness cares. It gets heavier every time; the weight of expectations, the burden of realities, the biased truth! It's not simple it gets demanding and as predicted I feel myself falling, down under the weight of myself, the world. There's no tranquility surrounding me, like I hoped for, rather an agitated and disconcerted environment that I feel. I can't keep my eyes open, but I can't close them either. Not yet! I'll plead forgiveness, I shall beg for serenity, I want to know the way it feels, I want to sense it around me. But maybe not. Help! It's pulling on me. I drift in and out of the blackness. No please! Not the shadows! I detest them, loath them. But I get no choice they drags me with powers so prevailing, their mighty and violent aura's threatening and enveloping, they leave me no choice but to slacken my hold and I let go and away from my very last connection.

Momina.


picture from: http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=190484320979553&set=a.178864582141527.45962.174408115920507&type=3&theater

seclusion

The warm air around me halts. I feel the ice-cold wind creeping up about me silencing the friendly heat. The walls around seem to close in and there in not enough air to breath in, my lungs seems to constrict due to the lack of air. The light glows dimmer and dimmer till it's all dark. The loneliness and fear fall on me like shards of glass piercing my flesh. I try to breath; I hold a hand out clutching nobody in the intense stillness.  No room, no air; I cry without tears, I scream without sound, I hold on to something not there.  I have been caged in isolation as I wither in pain lost with time

M.

unresolved mystery

There are so many stars that it seems imaginary. So many clouds;so many funny shapes that it looks fake. The moon is a perfect circle of gold, forged? After all those years of learning the cycle of the sun, the moon and earth I still wonder where exactly the sun hides and yet still provides us enough light to see in the night. It's never too dark for you to not see a thing (unless you get a lunar eclipse that is) a sigh escapes from the depths of my thoughts. And how is that one night you can see all the stars that are possibly there and the next you can barely see a few of them. I bet they are little illusionary things. I shake of the desperation and look at the long shadows that the murky night throws around me. Ridiculous they are giving people a reason to believe in creepy ghosts. And why is that the rustle of the leaves is always sinister in the dark? Everything seems phony to me in the dark, artificial. The voices go hushed, the lights dim, the wind seems to make your neck-hair rise in a disturbing dreadful way; why? The unresolved case of the mysterious alien nights…

Momina.


picture:  the starry night by Gogh, Vincent Van.

on the dance floor

They both looked around trying to run away as their mothers urged them to dance. She walked reluctantly as her mum pushed her to the center of the dance floor, while he made faces, head down, shuffling his feet. Cursing. They look around when told to dance then turning amber they both grudgingly fall in to step with each other. They both look awkwardly at the guests that comment on their 'cuteness'.  After five minutes of dancing they withdraw timidly and half an hour later they are found happily playing in dirt, together. Two ten year olds, one dressed as a flower girl in a pretty white dress the other in a little pant suit.

Twelve years later they dance hand in hand at the wedding of her sister and his best friend. They dance together, this time more confidently aware of the eyes' of the guests on them, smiling. They repeat familiar dance steps, this time they don’t curse, they smile and chat freely. Half an hour later they are caught outside on a bench giggling, together. Two adults, one maid-of-honor the other the best man, lost in old recollections.

A year later, they face each other again on the dance floor, eyes filled with joy and faces lit with1 infinite happiness. People gaze at them proudly, blessing them. Only this time they don’t care they are too lost within each other to bother. They don’t speak; they have all the time for that now. Later, hand in hand they cut the cake, one dressed in a white bride's dress the other in a tux fit for any groom. For just an hour ago they have been bonded forever, at the altar, as they were meant to be.

M.