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.

That Moment.

Do you remember those moments when you were talking with someone and suddenly the walls went down; the walls that defined the middle lines between acquaintances and friends? Do you remember those moments after which it was all simple, frank? When you no more had to think before you said something. And when you asked without worry, and answered without logic. That moment when you were suddenly friends, do you remember?

What did you spoke of? What simplified it all? And does it matters, that moment? Or the moments before and after that? Were there circumstances? Did you want to be friends or were you mortal enemies? Do these things matter?

They do. For that moment you gained. That moment you changed. In that moment you were something special, for each other. Not just another person added into a friend circle, but someone you looked forward to speaking. That moment was special. Not because it was easy to talk afterwards but simply because you could talk without barriers. You could dare to approach a subject, to start a conversation, to point out a wrong, to level an argument.

That moment, was everything. 

-Momina.

Of Selfishness and Change

I am here; curled up on a sofa in my corner with a cup of steaming coffee and the laptop. There is something increasingly calm about occupying a place where you can sit quietly and observe everything but people ignore you, because you are almost invisible in that spot. It lovely having a piece of mind without anyone around to pry or engage you, and at times these are the very moments that one craves. The ‘me-times’. Are we really selfish beings that don’t care about what goes around? Or do we just care too much?

I think it’s the latter. We care a little too much about others, about what goes around that we forget to pay the required attention to ourselves. To look at ourselves and think of where we might need grooming. No, we are too worried about how the others should behave, dress and speak etc. that we don’t even mind our own. We pay no mind to our own activities as we set on the journey to create a better world.

Change starts from within, from us. We can never bring a change that we want unless we alter ourselves to it first, there cannot be change if we ourselves refuse to change. With every little modification we make in ourselves we grow up a little, we become wiser, we progress and this development only can let us change the world for better.

We need the ‘me-times’; we need them to become a little selfish, to give ourselves a thought and a cleansing. Without being selfish we can never accept being ourselves and without having the confidence of being ourselves we cannot accept nor bring a change. Change from within, change for the betterment not for acceptance.

-Momina. 

Image courtesy: Google.

You can't leave it blank...

You could try to move on.

I could, perhaps, but it isn't easy. I don’t know where to begin, what to change and what to pause.

Start from within, start from yourself.

Is the problem inside me?

No. Maybe.

It is isn't it. They let me go, they never held me back. It’s me whose been holding myself back there.

It’s okay, it happens.

No… it’s me. It’s like I am stuck in quicksand. Moving is impossible.

You can try.

Haven’t I done that, already? Tried. I am too stuck with these people. I know that if I love them I’ll let them go. But I do love them, and it’s obvious that I've let them go, but I can’t accept that.

You have to; you have to acclimate to it.

Why?

Because if you won’t, you’ll destroy yourself; you’ll hurt your own self.

Perhaps that’s what supposed to happen.

No, then you’ll wrong the people who believe in you. Wrong the people who you love and those who love you.

Can’t I just start all over?

That’s what you have to do, start all over. Let them go, it’s a new beginning. It’s yours to write.

What if I leave it blank?

You won’t. You know yourself better than others, you know you never miss a chance. You are to help other people, cheer them, and be there for them. And some of them will be there for you, always and you won’t regret it. Even for its setbacks.

You think so? Will I be able to do that?

I know so, you've already done that. Once, it’s time to do it again. To let those in, who want to love you, who will love you.

Perhaps. And you…

Me…?

Thank you, I love you.

And I, you.

-Momina.

another ending, a new beginning...

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=146648798799471&set=a.146647338799617.30695.100143586783326&type=1&theater

I have stumbled on another ending, a new beginning maybe, another one. I am drunk on good-byes! They don’t seem to end and yet they haunt me, reminding me of the past lost; the melancholy of losing what I acquired and of that which I didn’t. People loved and lost, people that I know will be lost, now sooner than ever, in the ramble of life as another one of the dreaded ending approaches. Change. Unsettling, unidentified and mysterious adventures that start afresh, clouded with the pains and rains of the farewell. String of the past we may hold on to, even resemble the present to it but that, that time and gleam won't be there. The past cannot be the present, or the present the future. We'll walk on regardless of our efforts to stay behind because in truth the past is what propels us forward, either by a desire to start anew or to blind the pains from the past. Change I hate too but change cannot be forgone, as imminent as it is. For we meet to part and we enter to leave.

Momina.