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.

As The World Went On Without Them...

A hundred followers. Thank you, all! I am grateful to you all for reading and appreciating! 

For my sisters. 

There is something increasingly tranquil about sitting inconspicuously in a corner, from where you can view everyone, but draw little attention to yourself. Notice people, approaching or going their own ways, watching people, noting their ways. And just like that they sat there, two, who couldn't be more different, peacefully looking out to the world as it went on around them, without them.

There is something extremely joyous about walking bare foot on the wet grass, as you feel the green tingling your feet, under the night sky as you roam aimlessly, wandering off before turning to face the world again. You are so close to nature, so earthy, so content. And just like that, they walked those slightly damp lawns. Three pair of feet, wandering away but together, three pairs of shoes hooked on each one’s hand, as the world went on behind them, without them.

There is something awfully hilarious about being cross with the world, how one shuts himself, secluding, feigning ignorance to all those around. But actually they stare, inwardly they laugh, and how beautiful if you can share! And just like that, they lay there, four faces so dissimilar, lost in a world of their own that they share. They curse the darkness that has come with the hurricane yet connected them all in a way they haven’t been in a while. And so they share, four perspectives so unlike as they make a vision identical as the world goes on, outside, without them.

There is something exceptionally beautiful about sitting together sharing a personal joke and taunting one another. It’s about being so close, knowing the other well enough, that jokes don’t hurt and funnier they seem with every minute, no matter how pointless they are. And just like that they laughed, a chorus of five distinct giggles, making the most of these shared moments, the late night forgotten. They chuckle and chortle as the world sleeps about them, without them.

-Momina.

Crazy Ramblings #9

When I step out of the house, my first instinct is to look up at the sky, to search for the clouds or feel the rain on my face. Today when I stepped out around four I looked up even before the porch ceiling was out of the way and when I noticed the sky, I sighed. It was beautiful; dotted with random white fluffy clouds overlapped by grey ones that made them look like they had blurry edges that transfused into the sky. It was beautiful, there's no other words for it. I am entranced by clouds, I guess it's pretty obvious considering I write a lot about them. Sigh. The blurry edges presented a different story to me, altogether. Like the stage beyond exhaustion, when tiring becomes funny; when the line between reality and imagination blur, when they merge. Those moments when you can believe what you see, even though whatever you see is probably half your imagination. The moments when everything makes sense, yet the next moment it's all senseless. That absurd, silly state. The wonderful reality of the moment.

-Momina

Being a 'me'

There is a pleasure in passing through pathless woods, a sweet pain in getting lost; a pleasant thought of getting away. Leaving everything behind and escaping unnoticed, as if dreaming.  Enjoying the acquaintance of complete strangers and for once letting go truly because there will be none to judge you, call you or remind you of the seemingly endless duties.

Patiently enjoying the company of one’s self because in that moment nothing matters.  You can speak when you want to, avoid what you wish to and conduct your heart with peace.  Sitting loud and lone like a distant sea shore, devoid of tensions and pains. Smiling at self control and weeping for one’s desire. And when it’s all calm and clean you can go back to being a ‘me’.

Momina.

Crazy Ramblings #1

If you stare at the clouds long enough you'll realize they are moving. But they do move and everybody knows that right? No, everyone knows that they move but not everyone wants to watch them move. But if you sit quietly outside sometime of the day or night and look at those cotton like wisps of clouds for a certain interval you will see them move, and then your eyes will follow them; sometimes patiently and sometimes edgily. But at one point they'll be moving and you'll be watching them move and then you'll feel all this peace and tranquility inside you; because at that moment you'll know that it has to move, everything, everyone, so that you are filled with the peace at times. Sometimes when there are no clouds I crave for these serene moments. I am probably crazy. I know I am.


Momina.