Reminiscing

'Yes, I reminisce in the past; the past, that sadly had no future and that crumbled while we were till ravishing in its pleasure.'

-Momina. 

Break us down.

Sometimes we lose to expectations and then we fall hard, on our face. We deny it, we scream and we look for unseen closure. Thinking of all our hard work, our prayers and our expectations, all failed to nothing. We cheat ourselves. We act. We pretend. Because we know, deep down, that we never really worked hard enough, we lacked. We prayed, yes. We kept expectations higher than necessary, yes. But we failed so we pretend.

We crumble under our own expectations and the carry the weight of those hopes that others have from us. We hide from the truth and the acceptance of our faults. And so we blame. We blame it on every possible option. We break, inside. We doubt and we lose joy. In the end we just sag; unable to carry the weight anymore, of the acceptance and expectations and reality.

-Momina.

lie,lie, truth.

They hide under those hazy clouds,

Behind the wisps of evident lies.

They try to prove futile points,

Backed against the wall of truth.

And then they fight their own kind,

Basking in their own deceit.

-Momina.

Such serene moments...

She lay there, among a cascade of sheets, hands behind her head and ankle carelessly crossed; Days old red nail-polish chipping off.  The fan whirs above too loud for the quiet that surrounds her, the lights too harsh for her seemingly serene moments, the atmosphere to formal for her casual posture. She sits in a place too unlike herself… too formal. Her mind is another place to be, nothing like her posture or the décor around; it’s mayhem of thoughts, a turmoil of ideas replaced every moment, flipping out of grasp, exploding volcanoes of colors, rainbows of events, chaos of recollection. Such serene moments.

-Momina.

picture source : http://www.facebook.com/Urbah.V.Photography?fref=ts

Love

Love, what is it, really?

A simple emotion to show that you care and understand, or a complex mode, that envelops you inside itself, making it unmanageable to disentangle?
Love, they say you never plan of falling for it, it just happens. Like meant-to-be’s. Like miracles? 

Love, they say it gives you infinite happiness. Just like taking you over the moon and your frequent visits to cloud nine. Or the feeling when your feet don’t stay on the ground.

I think I know love. I think I understand. Why wouldn't I?

I have seen it happen, I have felt it. I know the gusto of it, I know it’s craze.

It’s blissful. It’s petty.

It’s ecstatic. It’s contagious. 

It’s the serenity of living in a dream. It’s the beauty of being awake in that very dream.

It’s the dream of reality.

Why wouldn't I know love? Why wouldn't I feel it? It’s there around me. It’s not a lover’s kiss for me; it’s my sister’s peck, my friends’ smiles. The laughter and love in all those eyes that are around me. The sparkle and the sheen. I know love and that’s love.

It’s the afterglow that sustains, forever.

-Momina.

Picture source: http://www.facebook.com/HaadPhotography?fref=ts

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.

Story: From the Diary of a Middle Child.

The following is a story, it has no connection to the writer or any other person, living or dead. The work is entirely fiction; advice and feedback would be appreciated, not criticism. Thank you.

-I am simple. My life, I guess, is okay. It seems so. There seems to be less problems and troubles than those faced by others. Sure there are times when life seems to be crumbling down. Its real bad then.  Like the times when my elder sister would slap me right across the face for no reason other than the fact that she was angry. It’s happened more than once. More than half a dozen times.  Of course I don’t go whining to my mom. No, I prefer to cry in peace and not talk to my sister, or try to do so.

I am unusual. Different. I don’t drool over celebs or people of the opposite sex that others tend to find *cute*. I simply don’t notice them and I have no comment on them. Nada. No, I am not homo. I am weird.

I don’t like it when my little brother gets ignored. He is sensitive. It’s his right, he needs the attention. I try to make him feel better, he fails to gets it. But I try.

Why don’t they realize? Life has its problems but it gets better. A straight road is no fun, a curvy one holds all the adventures.

**********

 

-It’s not a joke. Life. It’s not a bloody joke.  No matter how much I try or what I do, she always stands right. Always. Haven’t I always done more for you? You have no idea what she says about you and behind your back. Or do you have any idea that it’s me always reasoning with her, putting sense into her. You don’t know. You hate me. Because she is your first and she’ll always be, right there number one on your list. No matter what I do or how hard I try. I am never right. It’s always them, always her. Why? Why me? Why do I face all the troubles? Even when I try to do the right always. I try not to break your trust like she has. I do not talk mean of you to others. I try to never think badly of you. It’s all useless though. When you don’t trust me because I’ll always remain wrong. I never believed the face that the middle child is neglected. You've proved me wrong.

**********

 

-There is a soft blurry edge to everything. It’s hazy. Everything  looks funny as if each item merges into the other. As if watching through a sheath of heavy pouring rain. As if it’s a mirage. Out of focus and bokeh-ed, forming into bubbles and then tipping out of focus. Moving; side to side. Unstable. They loose colors as if drained. Black and white. Then grey. A big ugly blotch of blurry grey. Getting bigger, darker. Swallowing me up, painlessly. Good. The pills are working.

  ***********

-Momina.

Crazy Ramblings #6

I have started relying on coke for when I get stressed. I just fill up a big coffee mug with it's cool blackness and sit in a quiet corner nursing my issues. I guess you have to, sometimes, you reach the level where you can't bother others with your own problems. It's then that you lean on these worldly non-living-but-fizzing-in-your-cup-as-if-alive things. I know it's mostly desserts people prefer with the whole phenomena of stress-spelled-backwards-is-desserts but coke is just as good. It doesn’t out does chocolate though, but it works fine, really. And the way it pops and fizzes in your mouth is somehow very calming.

And while I let out my concerns to coke, it frost the cup, letting out it's on the big mug it's filling. And I suppose the mug lets it out in the air where it all mingles with other stuff hanging there; looked over stuff, avoided stuff, disappointed stuff. It's there, together in it's loneliness. Like me. like us. I think too much. Next time I'll try calling a friend while drinking that mug of coke; someone to hold me in the reality, while I am probably going crazy.

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.

Roadside treats

We all travel an aimless, useless journey. It’s nothing till we move on and realize, and it’s then, that it becomes meaningful. Striving us towards a purpose and strengthening it as we move on. The result always tempting us to move further, one step faster, one jump closer. We are fragments of nothing until there comes a reason of achievement.  We are just travelers of a barren road attracted by the occasional treats to feed our purpose.

But one often embarks on a journey with a mind set so adamantly on a subject that we forget most of the journey. We forget to enjoy the path. There’s always the leaping forward and grabbing the prize; what comes to you on that way is of not of a mere importance. And in those moments of lust for the prize and the fire of winning we very often lose. Not the race but to the reality; to the acceptance that, that which came to us on the way was far more important, more infinite than the end prize itself only then you’ve lost it and seldom does it comes back.

-Momina.