The Middle Ground

She was senseless; her consciousness was welded deeply into her subliminal mind. She was not asleep yet the slumber had not abandoned her, it hung around her creating a shell that did not let her wander towards either. She was bemused about what was real and what was just a figment of her imagination portrayed as real. It wasn’t such deep a night, she knew that, so then why was her mind playing tricks on her? She knew that the constant drip from the bathroom tap was real, it was there every night, and so was the faint whistling sound. She heard footsteps, and listened hard, staying still as a statue she realized it was her heart beat growing louder by each minute. She saw the shadows playing around and then almost a shadowy figure, which was gone with a blink of an eye. Sometimes the darkness would seem to prevail forever and at other times it drew in light, little fading circles of white and cream. The line between reality and imagination had gone hazy; she awaited the reality desperately as she hung by loose threads at the edge of her dreams. She hummed to herself; a sole sound in the death of the night, as the night became her, and her the night.

-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.

The Drug of Joy

 I have been out in the cold for far too long, I cannot even feel the cold anymore. It seems like anything that can chill me now is perhaps warm air, as the chilly breeze-that is getting colder every minute- is having no apparent effect. Rather it's like a drug that is slowly working itself into my bloodstream, not hurting me except that I can't feel my toes and finger any more. I can't hear much either as everything is reduced to a hum that is slowly lulling me into a trance. Far off at the edge of my vision the lights blink in contrast and somehow they beautifully synchronize with the beat of the hum in my ears. Unconsciously my foot starts tapping along to the perfect scenery of blinking lights in the dark horizon. I sit there for what seems like an eternity fighting the urge to get up and shout aloud. My senses however refuse to obey the commands my brain keeps sending and I sit as if drunk staring at the lights, tapping…singing. My spirits are high but my mind numb, my body moves yet I feel naught. I want to trace the sky and leap for the hazy clouds. I spin around in circles giving ecstatic shouts, I want to glide down rainbows and more, all before this crazed fever runs cold, till then I want to let go…

-Momina.

Sabotage and Assassinate

Wisps of hope peel away
Opening up the insides, frayed.
Touched with time and unwanted change
Browned and worn out ashen face
Screaming out, yearning to surrogate
Limp hands for attention, wave.
"Don't look away, don't look away,
Fold yourself into the details,
Realize the mistakes that you made.
Whispered secrets, riddles and slay
There are the answers, you didn't appraise".

-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

Love, Life And Everything Nice.

What was originally meant to be posted on 1st January 2013. 

Her cuteness cannot be captured in pictures, nor her actions in mere words. Descriptions never do her justice; always lacking, too incomplete to her real character. Life without her is unimaginable and often I sit and wonder what life was before these five years?

When we didn’t come home anxious to see the same face daily, without a tiny person to hug after it’s every little accomplishment? What was life without her annoying whines and adorable gestures? Without her art on walls around us and rooms devoid of her beautiful laughter; without her to make most of every situation.

I bet life was incomplete, dull, without her to talk of and love, without her to weave endless stories for. What was it like when life lacked her hilariously smart views and her tiny hands to clutch our own? How hollow and lifeless I am without her. 

Here I am, at eighteen years of age, already having known what actual love is. It resides here with me in the form of my five year old sister; this darling little creature without whom life is unwanted, for whom all my prayers are formed. My life is molded around her; she’s my life, love, laughter and everything in between.

-Momina.

Fire & Ice

She had stepped out for only a moment; she assumed it would be the same cold and dark night as usual. But now, she was standing there in the light drizzle staring mystified at the sky, for almost twenty minutes. The sky which was not dark and brooding like everyday but orange as if it burned. It was extraordinary, beautiful yet scary. Transfixed she looked at the wide stretched horizon, the burn started deep from one end and faded into the grey sky at the other diagonal end. The night was lit like day, but sun had set long ago and not even midnight was upon them yet. She shivered despite the several layers she wore, something invoked deep inside her as she tore her gaze reluctantly from the orange sky, suppressing the urge to cry at it, she rushed inside.

She huddled in the three blankets, squeezing into a ball, hugging herself but not managing to stop trembling. She ducked inside, sealing all sides of the blankets, breathing hard in the stuffy air, wishing the cold to subside. She dare not even take an inch of her out; she felt cold as ice but her temperature rose way above. A fire blazed deep within her while the rest of her body turned to ice.

-Momina.

Crazy Ramblings #7

I love staring at the clouds; they fascinate me for various weird and crazy reasons. And lying in the sun, gazing at the white cotton like wisps of clouds is very peaceful, or at least I find it so. Also, I find it beautifully deceptive. Like cotton candy. It seems as if a pure white silken thread is being spun in the clear blue skies, yet when we ascend it’ nothing but a fog like thick illusion. Illusions; isn’t life filled with those. If our fate and destiny are written, then aren’t choices just a delusion? Like common sense, said to be so common, but lacking in every other. Illusions we believe in and take them for granted. But what is life without these illusions? Nothing, they are the reason that we construct so many thoughts. And without them, it’s like staring at a perfectly cloudless blue sky, nowhere to look with something different. No choices to make. Clouds, they are important.

-Momina.

Crazy Ramblings #1 | Crazy Ramblings #2 | Crazy Ramblings #3 | Crazy Ramblings #4 | Crazy Ramblings #5 | Crazy Ramblings #6

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.