Drown.

I am not going to hold you back,
I am letting you go.
I know, that when
You want to drown in sadness
It doesn’t help
To stay afloat on hollow hopes.

So drown
Because it’s okay to do so.
To sit among you disappointments
Until you are at peace with them.

And it’s okay
To come up, gasping for air.
For those are
Treasured moments
Of sheer realizations.

So drown,
Because the next time you wither
You’ll know how to bloom,
Again.

You can’t live a life of no sadness
You can’t omit pieces of a puzzle
Because then
There will be no picture.

Drown
And when you look up
At the hazy image
Of what’s beyond that despair
You’ll know that there are people
Standing there,
Waiting for you to come out.
And the people
Who never came.

But that’s okay,
Because you’ll know them all,
Then. Truly.

So drown and call out
When it’s okay
When it’s time.
And I’ll be there
To pull you out.

-Momina.

Your Insistence Is Adorable.

Everything in the vastness of space is in a state of perpetual motion. Every tiny speck and every gigantic object that exists because several such tiny specks came together... everything, is moving. Shaking. Hovering. Vibrating. From the tiniest electron revolving around the nucleus of an atom to a huge star in a galaxy eons away. It is all moving, gently and crazily. Silently. And I am sitting here, still; suspended in all that motion. Waiting to be lifted. Waiting to be moved or removed by an unseen force. I am the glitch in the system, the nut that refuses to rotate while the rest spin in wild, silly circles. I am right in the center of a moving world, stationary. Useless.

I can see you, sense you, reading me, following me around. Trying hard to decipher me and my struggle. Putting such great effort in thinking about my past and my future. And I don’t even know about my present. I see you trying to visualize my story, trying to adapt it, picture yourself in it.

“What happens? What happened?” I hear you ask yourself, incredulously, as you turn another page to my story, as you see me running from the horrors of an unexplained monster. Running in vain. I see you crease your forehead, run your tongue over your dried lips, change your drooping posture, so that you won’t get tired. So that you’ll be able to read a little more without interruption. Your insistence is adorable.

You are tired. You didn't sleep all night, you were so engrossed in reading me, thinking about my story and tweaking your perspective as you moved further, word by word. I was there with you, without you realizing. I was watching you enthralled by a story that wasn't even your own. So I asked myself why you did that? Why did you hurt yourself over someone else’s tale? Cry over another’s pain, laugh at someone else’s joy? Why do you sit here, your eyes following me, your mind wrapped about me, when your own story remains abandoned, unwritten?

I've chosen to be the glitch. To stop, to drag on so that you’d become agitated. So that you’d put me you aside for a moment and look around and see what your own world has come to. The ignorance of your own reality so that you can indulge in mine is flattering. But I realize I've been doing the same. Trying to indulge in your story, figure you out while you try to decode mine. I've been trying to stop you from interpreting me, all the while looking forward to your reactions when you finally unveil my end. All the while we've been simultaneously reading one another, embracing tales not our own. We are linked this way, you see.

So, when I see you handling me with such care, adoring the curve of each word, cherishing the way every scene of my story falls into the other, melding beautifully and unlocking a mystery, I melt. I see your eyes shining at my happiness, you cheeks wet at my sorrow, I never realized I became so much to you. And I never grasped how focused a part you became of mine. After all, without you I am just a dying script, drying ink that will eventually fade to nothing. But you never let that happen. You've treasured me, spending so much time with me and thoughts about me when I wasn't even there with you. You became the lips that spoke my story, the syllables were written but you sought people and shared them. And I have come to realize now that I fell in love with you every time you opened my story, over and over again just to share my repetitive joys and tears one more time. And each time when you held me carefully before giving the story to a friend and whispering a loving, ‘Take care of it’.

And I have fallen for you each time I heard your sigh of relief when you once again held me in your hands.

-Momina.

*This piece has been written keeping this in mind: 

One Step Ahead

Limelight, flickering
Right above yourself.
It's time you step ahead
Play your own part
There's a crowd, awaiting
Your arrival, with applause.
What's to lose?
When you could be shining,
Standing tall, for one and all.
There's been dents and dashes
In your ancient path,
But still you are here;
Nobody to break you apart.
There's glitter in the air,
Your destiny up ahead
Beckoning you out
Away from the scars of the past.

Happy Women's Day!
-Momina.

Locked Up In Fog

‘Always aim for the moon, so even if you fall, you can land on the stars.’

She played with the word of the quote in her mind while tears streamed down from the corners of her eyes and disappeared somewhere in her hair. As she stared at the bunk above her, even the stars seemed too far; past the two bunks above her, the roof, the second story and the limitless distance towards the sky. An impossible journey.

She looked at the hardwood of the bed above, staring back at her and wondered where her life was going. She was nowhere. Life had always been so perfect for her, the choices were never her own, just an illusion at that, but she enjoyed them nonetheless. She had honestly nothing planned for her future, and it wandered off in the forbidden lands of nowhere. But finally a decision was reached and she struggled with all her might to take it from there; she had an aim, a door to reach.

But karma, karma was a pain in the behind, the door of opportunity was nothing more than an illusion, a mirage in the dry dessert that she had taken to be an oasis, a disappointment that sent her crashing down, with all her spirits drowning in self pity and accusation. Before her lied nothing but a barren land, she had journeyed from nowhere to nowhere. At first she had had a goal to chase, that would have been her way out, but now there was no goal, no target. The planes of disappointment spread out vast in every direction she looked. They were limitless and she had no clue where to go and nobody to guide her.

Tears came stronger than ever as she realized the reality of her situation again. She considered calling her best-friend and spilling out all her worry to her but she had probably done all she could; she had helped her up after she had crashed down under the weight of disappointments and dusted her down, raising her drowned spirits. She had felt a lot better then, but now, weighing her options she had to admit that she was stuck, her mind clogged.

She heaved muted sobs in the dark room as the night grew longer. Eventually she fell in a chain of weird dreams that woke her up every half hour or so, every time greeted by the everlasting darkness. At sunrise she sat up in her bed with a throbbing head and stinging eyes that were red and strained as she contemplated on her series of dreams, they had felt so meaningful but now they just seemed like pointless gibberish. She sighed, but couldn’t bring herself to sleep again.

The days became unnumbered as she went through her daily routine. She felt bored out of her wits yet there was so much to do that the day passed away in a blur. The nights were the same; an endless series of little sleep and deep dreams that lost meaning as soon as she pondered over them. Her thought had attached themselves to her mind like a leech, they sucked all energy out of her, her state was all she could think of and it always left her with a numbing headache that sent shivers down her spine and flooded her in cold sweat. She was stuck in the dry planes of nowhere looking for answers while her life had become a struggle, a question of her existence, an effort to live everyday one after the other in a single hope that somewhere she’ll find a response, a sign, a guide. 

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.

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.