A piece of me

I was never much of a writer as a kid; I was more of a reader, a dreamer and a thinker. And my passion for writing started unexpectedly, and it started with poetry. As it happened a couple of years back, I was on bed rest for three months due to a foolish mistake that caused me to fall fifteen feet and break my back. Those were weird days for me, I hated sleeping.  The lying in the bed all day long just made me frustrated and vulnerable. So, once I couldn't sleep and I remember cursing myself and suddenly this idea popped into my mind. I remember weaving in words to the poem in my head and holding on to them till I fell asleep. The first thing I did when I got up was to write the poem down; it was deep and when I read it to others they appreciated me a lot. It was nothing like any of those cat-hat-mat rhyming poems that we've all written. Since then I started writing poetry, I realized that the real contentment is not in writing a poem that rhymes, but a piece of poetry that has no rhyming words and still goes in sync. I always found solace in writing thereafter.

Poetry became a strong attribute for me, and frankly I didn't vary in writing much, then. Almost two years back I started writing diverse pieces; rants narratives, prose and poetry. When I shared my pieces with my close friends, U urged me to start a blog. I was very extremely possessive about my writings and sharing it so openly was nowhere on my to-do list. The constant urging and appreciation enticed me into finally making the blog.

The blog was another story, at first it’s all about sharing, making your passion known; your own little space. And then, somewhere in the middle it changes into the hunger for appreciation for your work; comments and views that you look forward to. At last, you get to the part where it doesn't matter and you do it just because you love to; you love to write, and read and the comments don’t matter because the satisfaction is in writing. And then before you know it it’s a year gone by; you have discovered yourself a little more, you've gone from better to much better and you've met and read these fantastic people. And so, here is where I stand. One year already and the attachment grows stronger each day, because in the end it’s not just a blog it’s a piece of you!

Happy first birthday Blog! :’)

-Momina.

Story: Burning Chaos

She’d been walking, dancing and splashing in the rain for hours, and to her utter delight the rain went on without a halt; sometimes drizzling and at times coming in heavy showers. Rain. She could stand soaking in it for ages and never once feel agitated or cold. The roads were deserted and yet she could here muffled sighs of people sitting in warm blankets talking over a hot cup of their favorite beverage. It often troubled her how ungrateful people can be; after long sought prayers of rain are accepted and the rain is poured down from the grudging grey clouds, hitting the barren land and driving little puffs of dust in the air. And yet those very people who pray for this blessing hide in their homes looking out through a barrier of glass.  Showing no gratitude. How could they not? She could go about rain forever; the way the ground smelled when it rained, the way it pelted her skin, the way the windows fogged up in the rain and the way it made everything look fresh…

A grin was plastered across her face as she splashed in the low floods brought by the heavy rain. Her clothes and hair were soaked in rain and she shuddered every time a cold breeze flowed. Some instinct kept urging her to go inside and change into dry and warmer clothes but she ignored it and instead walked over to the great ground right next to her house. It was not really a ground rather just acres of empty land, in the evenings kids used to gather there and play but it was said to be left for construction of houses. Beyond the vast empty land was the airport. It was quite close and the noise of aircrafts landing and taking off was normal. She laughed when their guests used to light up at this noise and rush to the windows to watch the planes pass.

The ground was flooded by the rain too, and it made her wish they had a swimming pool close by. She started walking to the center of the ground, taking a familiar walking route even in the dark. Her crazy instinct was forming into a bad gut feeling, urging her to go back, regardless she ignored it. unexpectedly and out of nowhere she heard a single cry of a bird, the sound so saddening and piercing that she wanted to turn back towards street-light illuminated road. But the noise above her head made her stop right in her tracks and gaze up at the sky. The noise was one of the harshest thunder, the kind that made your blood drain, and the kind that made you runaway to your mother’s soothing arms, the kind that made you suddenly cold. It rooted her to her spot and then she saw something big, huge and burning come crashing down on the ground right in front of her, with a horrid sound so blaring that it bellowed and sent her several feet away with a gush of extremely hot wind that knocked the air right out of her, as she landed near the road bumping into the ground several times, yet not registering pain. Her eyes locked to the scene before her.

She was stunned as the immense structure crumbled in the fire, too dazed to move, too struck to speak or yell. Her jagged breath soothed after several minutes yet the adrenaline kept pumping.  After numerous tries she got up, her knees were too weak and wobbly to support her. She couldn't even look about her, her eyes could do nothing but register the sight in front of her as she took small shaky steps towards the fire which had spread across the dry grass.  A huge grey cloud of smoke rose from the fire and as she got closer to the blazing aircraft the smoke stung her eyes, nonetheless, she kept moving only to stop a few feet away from the smoldering form.

The bird wailed again, this time more sorrowful and close. She looked up at the sky, now rapidly going grey above her as the smoke rose, and realized it was still raining slowly. All of a sudden the rain didn't seemed so nice, it made the air humid, suffocating and so thick that it made her cough  several times and rub her eyes to clear out her view. She closed the distance between her and the plane and realized it had cracked open and the other part must being lying away. She looked at the mess of ashen faces and burning mass inside, astonished and wanting to gag. And then her eyes took in something different; a tiny hand rose from the clutter of burning flames and she thought she heard a muffled cry, the hand shook slowly a fraction of an inch here, a fraction there and then all too quick the raised fingers went slack. Tiny little hand disappearing as the fire suddenly caught up with a snarl, sending smoke in her eyes and throat. She tumbled a few steps back and heard the bird screech a third time, all grieve and pain. She heard the din of screams and shouts from the road beyond her.

she cast her eyes over the burning chaos one last time then looked up at the sky as the bird went right above her head shrieking one more time, she threw her head back and wailed loudly alongside the bird; a sound of immense pain, grieve and sorrow.

-Momina Latif.

Poisoning dreams

For Adoniah- "Taking it to the next level."

She lay there as the poison seeped through the blood circulating inside her. She lay there numb to the pain and the slight burning that she was supposed to feel. She lay dazed while her muscles and bones mashed into one another, as she repeatedly hit her head against the brick wall. Immune to the pain. She shifted her head, gazing at the blood stained pillow. Alarmed she got up suddenly, only to realize that it was her own, yet she did not bleed.  It dribbled towards her, bubbling vivid red with just a slight tinge of purple. Glowing. She was intimidated, wanting to touch it, but holding back. She backed away, abruptly falling as the room around her turned to a blur, however she never touched the ground, As if the air had halted but she was still falling. There wasn’t blood anymore, but water; pure and colorless. It fell all around her, everywhere, except on her. She cringed away as a drop fell on her, scared. Out of the blue, she was knocked down, falling into a garden, unscathed. As she rose she noticed the rain, which came down heavy and bruised her skin. It turned red, burning red and felt like pinching shards of glass on her skin. She started to run but fell too often, while someone pulled her and her eyes twitched. She rose from her dream as she dreamt on, as the poison seeped through and she slept on.

-Momina.

Lost and gone.

Like a silhouette,

In candle light.

He stood out

But never shined.

Ducking his head,

With shame, remorse.

An evil smirk

Spreading across

The face paled.

The blood flowed

Seeping through

The murky snow.

One last time,

The eyes close.

A single tear

Of regret and loss.

A chilly wind,

And he’s gone.

-Momina.

Reminiscing

'Yes, I reminisce in the past; the past, that sadly had no future and that crumbled while we were till ravishing in its pleasure.'

-Momina. 

Break us down.

Sometimes we lose to expectations and then we fall hard, on our face. We deny it, we scream and we look for unseen closure. Thinking of all our hard work, our prayers and our expectations, all failed to nothing. We cheat ourselves. We act. We pretend. Because we know, deep down, that we never really worked hard enough, we lacked. We prayed, yes. We kept expectations higher than necessary, yes. But we failed so we pretend.

We crumble under our own expectations and the carry the weight of those hopes that others have from us. We hide from the truth and the acceptance of our faults. And so we blame. We blame it on every possible option. We break, inside. We doubt and we lose joy. In the end we just sag; unable to carry the weight anymore, of the acceptance and expectations and reality.

-Momina.

lie,lie, truth.

They hide under those hazy clouds,

Behind the wisps of evident lies.

They try to prove futile points,

Backed against the wall of truth.

And then they fight their own kind,

Basking in their own deceit.

-Momina.

Such serene moments...

She lay there, among a cascade of sheets, hands behind her head and ankle carelessly crossed; Days old red nail-polish chipping off.  The fan whirs above too loud for the quiet that surrounds her, the lights too harsh for her seemingly serene moments, the atmosphere to formal for her casual posture. She sits in a place too unlike herself… too formal. Her mind is another place to be, nothing like her posture or the décor around; it’s mayhem of thoughts, a turmoil of ideas replaced every moment, flipping out of grasp, exploding volcanoes of colors, rainbows of events, chaos of recollection. Such serene moments.

-Momina.

picture source : http://www.facebook.com/Urbah.V.Photography?fref=ts

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

Once you close those eyes...

When you close your eyes there are two things you envision. Initially it’s one; as soon as you close your eyes you imagine before you scenes from your imagination, thoughts of the past and expectations and dream for the future. But focusing a little you’ll see a reality, the actual darkness of your closed eye lids, focus without opening them, it velvety and swirly and deep…endless. Infinite? Focus too much and you lose it as you pry open your eyes. Balance your concentration and you can watch it for hours that are really minutes, which are really just seconds. Because in a moment the strain of the focus will make you open your eyes.

And that my friends, is life. There are our dreams and aims and then there is reality which is endless the more you go into it the more it turns in to a labyrinth. And just when you are about to get a grasp of it you are stirred up by karma, which either gives you your dreams, or reality.

-Momina.