27 Nov

Stare at you skin for a moment. This molten gold epidermis that you’re wearing now is not meant to stay. The layers regenerate, they die and a fresh bundle of cells await to appear. However, they decease too, eventually.

Glance at your eyes. The color that matches the hue of the ocean you get to see in postcards will not always glam. They’ll wilt, weaken and will grow dependent.

Admire your veins. The mesh they run through constrict – the blueness is undeniable.

It’s our biological future. The tense I’ve been pondering upon lately. The hazy part. I read books, recite spiritual verses, study, work and invest my present chronologically in hope of a bright tomorrow – but I’m frozen. No one agrees to pledge, there are no effective promises, no doubt free conversations. You don’t get to decide how quick you’ll age. You may just wither tomorrow. true?

It’s a lengthy winter, until the seasons depart.

So all we have is a frozen present.  We attempt to dig an axe in a frosted ocean with every thought that we absorb. And this is all what we have in our bare hands.

There is no tomorrow. My charted plans and calendars will never make it there, so let’s just be free. Make confessions, be honest, be creative and wild. Yes I dislike sunshine, but I’ll make silver out of coal black. My kind of silver that shines like fire. Be truthful to your failures and weakness. But hey, my present is candid right? I’ll heal my cracks – that’s how skillful ice is.



A wreck read.

3 Jun




We know how important it is to communicate.

Schmoozing with people is good fortune. We all have common listeners. Spoken words however, haven’t been the best milieu for me. I don’t possess the best vocabulary and expressions to elucidate what’s meant to be delivered. Moreover, I am terrified by endings. The curt one. The ones that leave you in awe, that allows you to decide what I meant. You know how dreadful an incomplete misunderstood sentence can be? It’s edged arm.

So I decided to dwell on thoughts. Things that had been in serpentine motion and haven’t exactly traced the dots that I managed to join.  A comprehensive narration of everything that occupied my head. I realized a few things, felt useless for lodging on others and felt inane to linger on to a few. Wrecked, the right word. I know it happens with most of us. We break down, we collapse, regret, wish, pray and long for a way out. Some of us speak out and are good at that, a few of us aren’t confident enough to let words help us out.

But then there are things I am sure about. Things that I realize are meant to be said or else, we can scale the destruction. A decision that carves multiple lives, A truth that can blow the dust away. For occasions like that, we unlock our secret strength. A vigor that is blind and careless and powers us to say, it’s my turn.

It’s important to divulge that. I know we’re weak but silence in such situations will cost us more. Gather positivism, power and will to just say it.

And here I go. To all the bad experiences!

I deny to dis-remember you. I don’t think that you particularly deserve my memory, nor do I be-slave myself into believing that you return my sense of vague wistfulness. There is no part of me that wants to return to the limbo I existed in for so long, or even the often-imagined parallel universe in which you reciprocated my feelings to the letter.

I do, however, want to remember what it feels like to be hurt, to want, to need something so desperately only to find out that your life is perfectly fine without it. As much as the little scar on my knee will always remind me to watch out when I am running, yours on my heart will teach me to be kind.


29 Mar

We’re not special beautiful snowflakes. We’re mundane raindrops. Indifferent and ordinary.

There is this thing about uniqueness, It decays. Something superior is always there to be a replacement. The ordinary however, stays.

And our struggle is to stay. It’s about adding value to the lives and lacunae around us. It’s not only our skin that dies and regenerates to remain plump, it’s not only our soul and body that dies for once – we on a whole choose which part of us has to perish and which lump has to rejuvenate. Decline, anyhow is a requisite.

So we remodel. This process in our personal capacity often takes us to a moment when everything which was glorious suddenly becomes ash. Our elucidation of success changes and there are monsters that we want to cage to be called meritorious. We exert and battle ourselves, kill our weaknesses and wage a contest against odds that pull us down to get to our new goal. And when we get there, it’s not enough.

Many a times we save our selves for the grand finale. And suddenly, it’s not grand anymore.

I urge you to fell the stillness in accepting that the race will never be over and when you begin to hurt yourselves too much to shine – choose to be the audience instead. Just sleep! and before you do, just take the time to gaze up at the night sky. Bask in the silence, take deep breaths, and just marvel at this universe.

You’ll never know what you may see up there. And trust me, it’s going to be every bit as beautiful. Because by that time, you’ll learn the beauty of being ordinary.






14 Nov

This universe is magnificent. It’s enticing and beautiful, and out of all the material and nature that co-exist, humans surprise me the most. .

Look around you. There is so much of miscellany in gray matter, in hearts, personalities and other argots embedded in literature. Every single person imbibes a discrepant story – an anecdote that is a mess of emotions, responses, wars, dreams and decisions!

Yes, a mess. Wrecked.

This turmoil is amazing, you and I are amazing.The glitches and deficiencies that we have are curtained and compensated by the prodigious influence we have on minds. We destroy and reinforce moods. We shatter and mend each other. Romanticize, hate, admire and ignore – dimensions that we en-kindle consciously and sub consciously.



Have you ever pondered about how much you prevail in other people’s lives?

People may think of you when shaky hands dwell over a cigarette in an hour of desert, when a song comes up, when they read a recommended book or revisit rotten albums. Do you ever wonder about conversations and tales that you might be a part of and you’ve forgotten or alienated?  I wonder, do I still breathe in the minds of people that I don’t talk to anymore? How many times in a day do I pass through someone’s head?

This is addiction.

These thoughts have now built houses in my voice box. They are there, content and glazing.

Eventually, there is one sentence that settles me down.

We’re ink. Volatile and permanent at the same time. We fade, yet our presence remains beyond question. Oh humans!



14 Sep



‘How come they have alphabets in mathematics?’ – I uttered.

I sneaked through the tall window repeatedly to confirm my soon to be planned allegation.

Laughing – naive to the concept of Algebra. Ironically, I was on ice that I was right and I could have launched a campaign on ORKUT about how absurd the teacher of class VI D was.

Walked back to my classroom to be seated on that wooden chair where desks had our scribbled FLAME game, the famous crushes with a icky heart emoji in the middle, the value of Pi that was too volatile to remember and never the less, the ‘Da Vinci’ sketches of each other and our teachers. The joy of calling ‘ASALAMUALIKUM AUNTY’ in chorus and the merriment of achieving a star on the title page of chapters. That life was nonpareil.

That phase ended.

I delightfully welcomed the teenage hood. A chapter where you eventually learn the meaning of the word privacy. The urge and turmoil suppressed the innocence or allow me to call it, ignorance of childhood and I discovered my self in detail.

That phase ended too.

And here I am today. At the brim of mature-hood, yet an ephemeral period. Remote to what I should be doing. Every single moment of reclusiveness makes me experience nostalgia of school and college days. Of people who’re no more, of opportunities which use to shine, the immortal ‘ifs’ and the withering present. I am miles away from satisfaction. Prisma, snap chat, Instagram, Facebook, twitter, whats-app – yet forsaken.

Sad no? it is. Interludes romances past more than future. It is how desperate I am to shrink and be 12 again. Arcing under expectations, wasted by grades and levels, hunting for people to talk without acting – the voids are expanding. Absences penetrate through me, like thread through a needle, everything I feel is stitched with its color. I am still not able to express what I need. There is a fire within us, no body pauses to swelter themselves at it. They pass by only seeing a wisp of smoke.

Give us time, give us a pleasing present. As much as I miss school and college, my childhood and teenage life – this phase should be no different. This age, is only a number. Painfully visible and entirely ignored. Give us space, permission to make mistakes and apologize, a lacuna to be better some other time. Don’t ask us to be best TODAY.

The most incommunicable piece I’ve ever written, comes to an end.



A Note To Myself.

12 Aug

Dear Me,


I know you’re fetching all the elfin thoughts in your mind, putting your neurons at work. Unpaid jobs are seldom sane. I can feel that right now (Bleak laugh). My brain demands steep wages once in a while. This time, the rumination is a little different.

I know that the past few months have been frenzied. The details are edgy and skittish and there is less of philosophy that can spill it out into words. Don’t induce anything, don’t compel yourself to look for ways to lessen the load. Just let it be. Your horoscopes are silent. This stage can be fugitive or eternal.

You’ve had friends darkening your moonlight. It’s okay. That’s one color of life. You’ve had expectations undergoing apoptosis. That’s okay too. They have that engraved in perfect literature. Don’t expect and be happy. You’ve had days when you were beyond your swing of pessimism and was sure that the light was on it’s way, for real. I can’t count times when I’ve seen this much consistency in your will. Thumbs up for that.

Eventually, Overthinking slayed it all. I now believe that it’s not a choice that you’ve made. It’s how you’ve been wired. This waveform that you ride by is crazy. At the Peak, you’re determined to put things into right place, and then you fall to the crest where picking up bits seems impossible. Don’t wait for this to end. The eclipse will be followed by a deathly sunset and you’ll be too inhuman to feel what it’s like to stand still and static. Nature has its fixed rules you know.

You should be glad that you gave yourself an unusual siesta, try and stretch its span in future. The fact that this is your last academic year as a typical student in an institute is provoking you to experience all the bliss that you should’ve sensed in the past 17 years. It’s too much for one year, but an overload of happiness should never return rejected. Go for it, embrace it. The odds will remain. The hitches will be painful, but this time of life will never come back!

Let this light come to you. Don’t wait for all the negativity to fly away. Monsters will visit you any how. If you’re waiting until you feel talented enough to make it, you’ll never make it.


Calm waters.

6 Jun

Charmed by the dishonest shore, I want to stroll in style, bare foot alongside the blueness.. I want my eyes to shrink the calmest show and treasure it with so much of energy that it can battle the wildness of anything that I might come across. Without warnings, of course.



I want my hair to waltz with the breeze, and my scarf to sway with whiff. I want the arctic water to kiss my feet and leave behind a souvenir, a sea shell that can bring me music. I want to see the finest sunset, and witness the fusion of one shade of orange into an enemy shade of purple. I want to be an eye witness to the most extra ordinary marvels of lord, in the most ordinary of situations.

Nature is sublime. But we humans are the most alluring and the most magnificent creations of Allah. We’re crowned. Then why are we so deprived of the tranquility within?

We have pigments underneath our skin, and graphs of tones and pitches grading voices. We’re born and categorized. Rich, middle class, poor. Black, white, brown. Muslim, Christian, protestant. There is so much to figure out in this non stagnant world, where do I seek calmness and peace?

I am born a human, I am going to die as a human.

Simple and logical. Keep me away from all the chaos and crowd. I am better off as a ‘Human’ and that’s what I want to be good at, this Ramadan.

Ramadan kareem. Cheers.




Addiction, Mental Health, Stigma, Spirituality

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