the patience and the shame.

He had them three alike

Through the time, he still managed to smile

He wasn’t full of loath just then

But suppressing it had it unfasten.

He held back the insufferable disgust

Sure that people would mind, blight.

Until it was enough that he had,

He sneaked out quietly, determined to put an end

He killed the three and murdered his rage.

His patience returned soon replaced by shame.

- Momina Latif.

I have been reading a couple of articles on how people kill female infants that belong to them. it's so saddening how people do such things and half of them are literal people. it's wrong still it happens take a step to prevent it. daughters are precious, love them don't lose them.

M.

blankness.

Blankness. It’s bizarre, suffocating, blinding, annoying, unavoidable yet healthy now and then. Weird, I know. But I have a theory; it’s happens when your brain is so full you can barely contain anything, that’s when you get it, a block. A mind block. I guess it’s only to relieve a bit of a burden. Only it clashes rather brutally with another of my theory; you keep thinking no matter what, even if you’d be avoiding something you are somehow thinking about stuff to jam it out.  So here’s where I am stuck but I guess eventually I’ll figure it out too, as, I’d been thinking about it. Anyhow, mind blocks are weird especially when you really need to think of some stuff, like during an exam (something that recently happened to me, for the very first time). You are helpless, it happens with everyone; writers, artists, normal people. The sad thing is you can’t do much about it (especially during the exam, and all you want to do is cry). 

'love, nobody actually gets what it is!' -Momina.

in writing...

i have been working on a novel and this is part of it, just a trailer.

I had been seeing it since the day me met. Since then I had always seen it dangling from her  wrist every time. It was there around her slender wrist whether she dressed up jeans, a skirt, a summer dress, a pant suit, very much unlike her shoes that changed as often as ever, like she owned a whole store.  It was not like some very dashy bracelet or something. it was just a charm bracelet rather worn out and clustered with a lot of charms hanging from it. I'd really like to sit someday and look at each one individually and you know, get to know the story behind them…

We didn’t know each other quite so well to do that, although I was looking forward to it. We were basically on friendly terms. What I was really curious about, was the ring. On one of the loops of the charm bracelet hung a ring; a simple gold band with five glistening diamonds set around an emerald. It was really pretty and I'd often seen her twisting it in her fingers nervously, lost as if it took her back in time when she might have got it. The fact that bugged me the most was why she wouldn't just wear such a pretty ring on her finger or maybe in a chain around her neck.

And that evening it annoyed me so much as she put it halfway on her finger then off again, that I asked her outright.

'That’s a pretty ring you've got. But why don’t you wear it?', I asked .

She held my gaze for about five seconds shocked at my question, then held it between her fingers ever so gently and gaped at it. I so her eyes go glossy and a shadow passed her face for a tenth of a second. Just a second.  I was about to apologize for my interference when she spoke.

'It's, um, it's….' she hesitated as she twisted it so the emerald catch the light beautifully ' It's actually…it's kind of complicated…and I am not sure I can…' her eyes were sort of brimming over so I reached and squeezed her hand.

'It's okay if you don’t want to talk about it'

'No…it's just that… it was a, er gift but he made me promise, swear that I' she broke at that and retrieved her hand to wipe the tears 'that I w-wont e-e-ever wear it-t again… some complica…. It's a really l-long st-story' she sobbed.

'Hey, hey, its okay, I tried to calm her down.

She got up suddenly and I stood up too. 'Weren't you staying for dinner? I mean please? I am so sorry about this…'

'I am sorry… I can't I just … I have to go! Next time… maybe' she said grabbing her coat…

I stood there stunned muttering my reply to the empty room. Wondering what was the true story behind that ring… unsaid…untold.

M.

i know you...

I know who you are, what you do and where you live. I know how many friends you have and how many of them actually mean to you. I am aware of the fact that you love your family even though you don’t show it much. I know whom you hate and the people you wish you could slap. I know all your secrets, the deepest and the darkest. I know to whom you disclosed that confidential information when you got tired and blurted it out. I know why you said it. I am familiar with what you said, and why you said. I am familiar with what you will say. I see what you’ll go through and how much you will suffer. I know which of your dreams will be shattered and which of these will b yours to keep. I can tell you who you’ll loose when but i will only tell you when the time comes. I know what makes you tired and where you wish to go on vacations. I have knowledge about the people you betray and what you lie about. I know what clothes you’ll wear on which occasion and your favourite dessert. i know the answers to all your questions and yet I am the one who creates these questions for you. I can tell what you believe in and what you are unsure about. I can distinguish between your rights and wrongs. I know your future, your past and all about your present. I will leave hints for you to answer your questions. I am well aware of you and your deeds and yet you hardly remember me. I make you; your life, your deeds, your thoughts. I want you to stop running away from me. I want you to ask me for help, i want you to believe that you’ll achieve anything which is rightfully yours. I want you to be happy and still be aware of the things that might hurt you. I want you to believe.

Momina.

Amid the Moonlight

They ran from the club hand in hand, her heels clicking alongside the low thud of his loafers. They ran like fools on the empty road in the gloomy night. A few minutes later they were sitting on a brick boundary wall. Two pairs of legs hanging from the five foot tall wall, one figure clad in an Armani suit, the other in a silk dress. She swings her stiletto heels as she sits there humming while he stares in the middle distance glad to have her company but not knowing what to say.

Minutes later they both speak up, together. Then both look away a little red and embarrassed. After a few seconds she speaks, pulling her velvet shawl closer around her shoulders and saying as much as she can in one breath before she shudders at the cold and continues. She tells much more than allowed. She wants to be sincere. Lying is no use it just starts something wrong and it always ends at wrong. She knows; she’s been there and suffered, that’s why she wants this to work out because she knows it’s different. It’s real. It happened.

She quiets down after half an hour, not very sure now. Her eyes are filled with tears that threaten to brim over.

‘Stay strong’, she whispers to herself.

She hears him sigh loudly and a tear spills on her cheek but she wipes it off quickly.

‘It’s over. I was a fool to think it would work’, she wonders to herself again.

 

He sighs and she sighs too, loudly. Sad but then his fingers lace through hers, she lifts her chin to look into his eyes, still hesitant. They are wide and deep blue in the dark night, but she sees a smile. It’s true!

He jumps off the wall and holds out his hand for her to hold. She grins, jumps off the wall holding the hand for support.

They run away hand in hand, her heels clicking with the soft thud of his loafers. They ran like fools on the empty road in the dark night amid the moonlight.

Momina.