when it happens...

She got up from the bed and stood in front of her full length mirror, she had been crying for days her tears had dried up now but she wept on anyways. She starred mutely at her reflection; pale as paper, eyes all swollen up and blood red, hair all messed up like clothes. She hadn’t bothered eating either; the pain was too much for that. She wanted to break the mirror but then she recalled what she used to say whenever she heard people doing that, 'what do they get out of breaking all their precious stuff?'

Satisfaction, she got the answer. She wouldn’t break something ever, but she went ahead and did it anyways, breaking the mirror to pieces. And it felt way better than sobbing it all out. So she went to the kitchen and took out the old crockery set she was meaning to give to the charity, smashing it seemed so much more reasonable now. One by one she shattered the plates by throwing them against the floor or the wall. Her arm cut twice but she couldn’t care less, she wailed loudly and helplessly the tears floating in her eyes, blurring her vision. Suddenly the air felt so musky and dirty she took her throbbing outside where she somehow crashed right on the main street.

When she woke up all she saw was white; White walls, white sheets, and white floors. It took her a moment to realize that it was a hospital room.  She felt drowsy and far from reality but as soon as the door opened she felt as if every color in the world had exploded turning that white room into heavens. Like a box of paint had been opened and thrown violently around, only it looked beautiful; every color so distinct and bright.

Laying there all rosy and pale she smiled to herself as she looked into the eyes of a complete stranger who looked like an old friend, for she had fallen in love with him at the very first sight. He looked back at her confused and then came over and sat in the chair lying close to the bed.

'Hi, you…um fell in front of my car so I brought you here. They say you are better now, you are! Aren’t you?' he looked at her gently 'I know! The stupor will wear off; it's because of the meds.'

He seemed to have read her mind. He spoke too much, speaking on and asking her questions she couldn’t answer. She used to be that way. She was such. She spoke a lot, too much and at times it would cause her so much trouble. She had a wild take on life, nothing quite like anyone, always speaking her mind, doing things no one else would. Yet, in front of this completely beautiful stranger she couldn’t say a word; she could but she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to scare him off; she just wanted to hear the voice that brought her tranquility all so unexpectedly. Maybe she had lost her voice. When he got up to leave bidding her a good bye she shook her head quickly and held on to his hand without meaning to.

'Don’t worry! Um… I will call someone over to keep company.' He said then he got on to the phone whispering to someone.

He left her with that girl who at first she had mistook to be his girlfriend but who was actually his sister. With her, she found, she could talk and speak freely but as soon as he came back into the view she surely lost her voice. She reacted late due to all the medicines, but she responded by shaking her head, nodding or smiling with him. She could listen to him forever. She noted that he spoke meaningfully between sentences, he'd be talking of something so distinct and somewhere in the middle he'd compliment her or he'd say some words of great inspiration and meaning and she couldn’t react before he'd be too far off telling her something completely different. He opened up his life for her, telling her stories from his past and events that he hoped would take place in the future. He was careful of what he said and did, for him life was all about keeping his closest possessions safe and acquiring all that was within his potential. If he wanted something he'd surely get it.

He was so much unlike her still so appealing. During all these chats she'd sit locked in the trance of his voice, eyes and smile barely registering anything else.  She knew he had heard her talk to his sister, she once saw him standing by the door while she spoke rapidly like she did until she saw him and then it was the colors bursting all over again and her speechlessness. In all her life she hadn’t been as wordless as he made her. So different.

She was finally out of the hospital and he was dropping her home. They were in the car and the rain had left all the windows fogged up yet it didn’t exasperate him, he drove as calmly as ever, whereas, if it had been her she would have been cursing and complaining. Not now though, she quietly drew on the fogged up window while listening to his voice. He was telling her of some recent dealers he had managed to get into a big agreement.

'… I could see all the profit but my fat boss couldn’t. But I get what I know is mine, just like you, so I got them right back and made an agreement with them. And you'll see the profit that will bring us in less time, the economic values will rise and the demand will too…'

She abruptly sat straight in her seat for a minute then pinching herself she looked at him questioningly. And that’s when he looked right back at her, smiled and said

'You are, aren’t you? Mine to keep. Forever' and all the colors exploded all over again.

Momina.

 

no curtain call.

She came swinging from the strong cord; hair flying, her dress soaring with the action and she bumped into him and they both toppled to the ground, staring into each others' eyes with such deep emotions.

With that the curtains were closed and the crowd was on its feet, applauding.

She makes sure the curtains have been drawn before hurriedly getting up from where she had fallen on top of him. She dusts herself and looking around, because she doesn’t want to look him in the eye.

'Um…nice show…I got to change' she says and rushes to her changing room.

He raises his eye brows but doesn’t say anything as he lifts himself off the floor and looks around. He can hear the praises of the crowd also the sounds of it shuffling out the doors of the theater. The crew has already started clearing the stage. The director doesn’t looks up from where he's already planning out the next play. He doesn’t comes up clapping his hands and shouting 'good show, brilliant!' like he used to.  Sigh, people change to fast. He signals to one of the men and he hastily gets him a coke can. At least the love of acting remains, he thinks to himself peeking behind the curtains at the bare hall. He makes his way to the dressing room.

She's all changed and washed; Wet hair dripping and hand bag ready on her shoulder. She hangs her costume on the rail and turns only to find him coming in sipping coke.

'Great show right? Coke?' he holds a spare can in his other hand which she hadn’t notice. But she knew he wasn’t sharing his own. Maybe.

'Yes! Thanks.'

'I do like the ones themed on love. So deep, right?' he makes it sarcastic.

'Very! Not that it really matters, it's all acting and people are so easily fooled' she says with a nervous laugh.

'They sure are, but it's only so long till they are fooled. Deep down they know the truth, don’t they?' he really means it this time.

'Yeah I guess…'

'Then why not stop the act for those who know the truth. Why lie to their faces? Why not tell them the truth? Make it easy for both'  he is now standing close to her, looking at her intensely while she looks down at her feet.

'Maybe it's not the right time? Maybe not the truth...... I got to go' she passes him and gets out the door but what he says stops her in her tracks.

'But don’t you see it is. The perfect time or the perfect place might never come; maybe this is the ideal time. Say it! You might not get the chance again'

She smiles, she turns 'but I don’t have to say it when you know it'

'I know it' he says and envelopes her in a heartfelt embrace.

This time there is no curtain call, no music and no applauds. It's real, it's love.

Momina.

Seclusion II

I could feel the frost around me, random thoughts bombarding me but not bothering to stay. I could feel the hesitation, the hope, the regret. Disappointment. A prayer said silently for what stands ahead, wishing it won't go unheard like the rest. My steps are slow and I have an intense feeling that they won't take me much far. I barely know where I tread neither does my semi-consciousness cares. It gets heavier every time; the weight of expectations, the burden of realities, the biased truth! It's not simple it gets demanding and as predicted I feel myself falling, down under the weight of myself, the world. There's no tranquility surrounding me, like I hoped for, rather an agitated and disconcerted environment that I feel. I can't keep my eyes open, but I can't close them either. Not yet! I'll plead forgiveness, I shall beg for serenity, I want to know the way it feels, I want to sense it around me. But maybe not. Help! It's pulling on me. I drift in and out of the blackness. No please! Not the shadows! I detest them, loath them. But I get no choice they drags me with powers so prevailing, their mighty and violent aura's threatening and enveloping, they leave me no choice but to slacken my hold and I let go and away from my very last connection.

Momina.


picture from: http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=190484320979553&set=a.178864582141527.45962.174408115920507&type=3&theater

seclusion

The warm air around me halts. I feel the ice-cold wind creeping up about me silencing the friendly heat. The walls around seem to close in and there in not enough air to breath in, my lungs seems to constrict due to the lack of air. The light glows dimmer and dimmer till it's all dark. The loneliness and fear fall on me like shards of glass piercing my flesh. I try to breath; I hold a hand out clutching nobody in the intense stillness.  No room, no air; I cry without tears, I scream without sound, I hold on to something not there.  I have been caged in isolation as I wither in pain lost with time

M.

unresolved mystery

There are so many stars that it seems imaginary. So many clouds;so many funny shapes that it looks fake. The moon is a perfect circle of gold, forged? After all those years of learning the cycle of the sun, the moon and earth I still wonder where exactly the sun hides and yet still provides us enough light to see in the night. It's never too dark for you to not see a thing (unless you get a lunar eclipse that is) a sigh escapes from the depths of my thoughts. And how is that one night you can see all the stars that are possibly there and the next you can barely see a few of them. I bet they are little illusionary things. I shake of the desperation and look at the long shadows that the murky night throws around me. Ridiculous they are giving people a reason to believe in creepy ghosts. And why is that the rustle of the leaves is always sinister in the dark? Everything seems phony to me in the dark, artificial. The voices go hushed, the lights dim, the wind seems to make your neck-hair rise in a disturbing dreadful way; why? The unresolved case of the mysterious alien nights…

Momina.


picture:  the starry night by Gogh, Vincent Van.

on the dance floor

They both looked around trying to run away as their mothers urged them to dance. She walked reluctantly as her mum pushed her to the center of the dance floor, while he made faces, head down, shuffling his feet. Cursing. They look around when told to dance then turning amber they both grudgingly fall in to step with each other. They both look awkwardly at the guests that comment on their 'cuteness'.  After five minutes of dancing they withdraw timidly and half an hour later they are found happily playing in dirt, together. Two ten year olds, one dressed as a flower girl in a pretty white dress the other in a little pant suit.

Twelve years later they dance hand in hand at the wedding of her sister and his best friend. They dance together, this time more confidently aware of the eyes' of the guests on them, smiling. They repeat familiar dance steps, this time they don’t curse, they smile and chat freely. Half an hour later they are caught outside on a bench giggling, together. Two adults, one maid-of-honor the other the best man, lost in old recollections.

A year later, they face each other again on the dance floor, eyes filled with joy and faces lit with1 infinite happiness. People gaze at them proudly, blessing them. Only this time they don’t care they are too lost within each other to bother. They don’t speak; they have all the time for that now. Later, hand in hand they cut the cake, one dressed in a white bride's dress the other in a tux fit for any groom. For just an hour ago they have been bonded forever, at the altar, as they were meant to be.

M. 

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.