Jumaat, 28 Oktober 2016

Bury The Hatchet

She had lost all expectation in him. She had moved heaven and earth to forget him.  She occupied most of her afternoons writing in her instagram and blog. She hadn't written anything since 2011 and suddenly she had millions of things to write about.

It was right when she spoke she could only compose when she was temperamental. She wrote her heart out - every tiny sentiment, passion and emotions, her agonies and her unbearable pains. She exerted herself to block him out of her senses.  She found no reasons and excuse to keep in touch with him any longer at this time. After that one desperate call, she one more time,  stubbornly tried her karma and checked on him on one ocassion,  but as predicted,  he would not retaliate or make an easy, smooth sailing respond.

From then on, she began to drill herself hard to turn a blind eye to his existence. All she wanted was to erase and delete him entirely  from her life history. Oh, too bad,  no matter how hard she made an effort, his shadowy ghost, kept haunting her, poignant and evocative.  She gave her best shot to divert herself by going for breakneck drives and forcing herself stayed up in front of the idiot box till late hours.  She did her damnedest act, by making friends with the others abundantly found on the social websites in the intentions of drawing him away from her mind completely. But it went on a blink, unsuccessful. They were no match for him. Her stubborn heart never wanted to surrender and that it still longed for him. It really was killing her softly. She didn't know what to do with herself. She was obsessed and bewitched by this particular young man.

Even so, she had befriended this one gentleman, also his countryman, from the capital town of his valley. A nice chap who managed a travel agent business. When she joked that she was making plans to visit his cold country in autumn the following year with a bunch of her friends, he emailed her the full details of the trip itinerary and that he would arranged himself as the tour guide with a special rate discount.  He made it clear that the cost would be less expensive if she came in bigger groups.  He was very cooperative and could bear with her every silly questions she asked.

She told him that she had someone she knew from one of the districts there and she asked for his favour if he could take her to that place to look for her lover if her September trip became a reality. He assured her confidently that it was not a big problem.  He would assist her to get to the address. She laughed herself out when the travel agent took her idea humorlessly and that her skillful act was a success. She was actually misleading him and that she would not really go looking for him even if she was there for real. She was still under control although she appeared to be so desperate.  It was an insanity to do such an act.  She was merely fantasizing.

Then, to her surprise,  one fine day, she received a text from him confirming that he was then in the capital city at his relative's. She was thankful that he had finally back to the comfort zone and that she would not to be worried about his safety anymore.  She could sense the difference in his attitude. He was more frank, communicative and approachable. He was more sharing and that she was made aware of his whereabouts and well-being. They both became quite attached from day to day. She was overwhelmed with the change in him. As days went by,  she began to think about fleeing to meet up and came face to face with him for once in her lifetime.

Rabu, 26 Oktober 2016

The Rendezvous

It would be on Wednesday, the twenty-fifth day of the first month the following year. They had their rendezvous all well-planned. She had everything ready; the passport, the visa and the pre-booked tickets, also a 5-day leave application. The day of the departure was on a school day but she would be at work only for a couple of hours. She was to board on a short 45-minutes' fly, heading to the capital's international airport from her hometown terminal just after midday. At precisely 1900 hours, she would be on the next D17182 aircraft to her ultimate journey's end.

She had to call off the previously booked 3 o'clock flight to an earlier schedule as she had overlooked the odds and unusual when she made the reservation in the first place. Supposing that the 1500-hour flight was delayed, she would be in great trouble. She would either be in a rush or faced the worst.  She would miss the plane. She would not want to jeopardize her voyage at all and the itinerary for the great travel had to be altered.

And he would have to call off all his appointments on those dates to make way for the rendezvous and was made to vow to be there to receive her right on time when she touched down. He had been clearly informed on the details of her journey and that he garaunteed that there would not be any shortcomings.  She had no one else but him out there. That strange, unfamiliar planet was new and foreign to her.
This togetherness would be the most remembered date of the century of their lives. She was expecting to be treated nicely and warmly despite every authenticity that would be made known and brought to light.  He had only viewed her through images and only talked on the phone. He had that sweet hoarse voice with a thick influence of the mother tongue. Even so, she loved his utterances and was always touched by his words and that made her feel more confident about the whole lot. Though she was still doubtful about her clandestine escapade but his words were her inspirations. "Have faith in me", he strongly assured her to gain her confidence.
The days looked to be crawling and she was so dying to look into his romantic brown eyes, those stares that melted her heart every time she scrutinized his snapshots on her screen. She imagined how her heart would beat fast the moment she  knew his figure by sight and spotted him standing, looking straight at her from the distance at the arrival hall.  And she herself, could easily be distinguished among the giants as she was just a dwarf.  What would be his reactions?  That gave her the creeps, the goose bumps.

Selasa, 25 Oktober 2016

Passion Masquerade

It was a week before Eid. She opened a box containing an item which she kept hidden in the drawer for so long. It was intended to replace the worthless souvenir previously sent which she took on board when she joined a trip to the neighbouring state, but it turned out to be flabby and loose for his size and that she took a new effort to get a fresh one for a spare. However she kept delaying sending it, as she was conscious he was giving the impression that he took no more interest in her.
Be that as it may,  she stubbornly decided to courier the package as an Eid gift, because after all it was meant for him in the first place. No accompanying messages, nor notes or whatsoever, only 'Jane Doe’ written on the courier form as the sender as she was too afraid to say anything anymore. It was supposedly reached him on the eve of the big day. Then she came across his status on the social media, declaring that he was not available for seven consecutive days and would not be rejoicing Eid at home. Reading-through a few remarks on his wall, she discovered that he had journeyed to another state, Haryana, for his an interview. It was not a maiden's name as she thought at first, it was referred to a place.  After much thought, she dared herself and threw him a note informing him of the bundle she posted. She sensed his cold, unfriendly manner, saying that he was not in the condition of checking mails. 
She was deeply upset and agitated by the reply. There was no warmth in him as if he wished to be left alone and didn’t need to have any more links with her and that she felt she was trespassing his privacy. She was in the wrong, so she took it as a hint which she deserved and that she should have long learnt her lessons. She should stop being clingy and she spoke no more after that. A fortnight passed by, the gift was left untraceable and unappreciated.

One afternoon, she was troubled by a news. An upheavel erupted in his valley. His people's combative hero was shot dead in a retaliation with the Army forces. She still never gave up hope and constantly glancing ridiculously at  her phone screen expecting some news from him. Weeks passed and she was restless. She could no longer tolerate the unsureness. Once more she faced herself to just ignore her ego, her self respect.  She had to call him up when all her messages were left unattended. Her first attempt was unsuccessful. She tried the second time and there was someone over the line. It was him. She was so relief. Hearing his voice after such a long silence was something inexpressible. The few seconds on the line was just enough to make her a day. The connection was weak and that she had a hard time to comprehend his thick accent but she knew he was with his family. Safe and sound. 
'I love you…’ she uttered shakily, before she ended the call and she overheard him echoed at the end of the line, ‘ I love you, too’. Those were beautiful words spoken spontaneously but that had not made her feel contented totally.  It was no better than a masquerade, a passion in desperation, yet it was just enough to ease the bleeds of her wounds.

Isnin, 24 Oktober 2016

The Protagonist

I read his message on my screen. It was a response to my latest blog writing I sent him.  As always he was the first special mortal I shared my writings with. His reactions were always short and precise and straight to the point. Sometimes it was not worth the wait.  But at least he put an effort. I was thankful to that. 
When I read his texts the second time,  I felt awkward and there came a sense of guilt deep in me. It left me pondering for a minute. I grabbed hold of my sketches and flipped open a few pages. Then I read his notes again. "You always show me villian in your writings" His words disturbed me a little this time.  I was aware that there were some truth in it. 
For the first time he allowed me to read his mind and for the first time I felt pity on him and that I owed him an apology. I did not deny I had been punishing him harsh in my decrees. I put all my anguishes and torments on the persona. I held him responsible for all the sufferings I endured. After dozens of posts I published and shared, at last he was moved by my story. He knew he was the young man I was rambling about all the time.  I thought he would never care about anything I said. He was not the senseless, rotten-hearted General from the cold mountains after all. 
But when I crisscrossed the transcripts, I thought he was a bit incorrect with his accusations. I did not characterize him as a deceiver or a con-man in my plot. I was more on conveying my mental state, my assumptions in the conditions and settings I was in. I was picturing my side of the story, only that I overlooked his views and what he had to give or take to all these goings-on. And how could I know when all the time he kept himself at a distance,  so introvert, so silent all the way through. Not a soul could. Unless she was the Wizard of Oz. πŸ˜€πŸ’«
My dear,  I am so sorry for being cruel and inconsiderate.  Not in my life that I would put a hate on you, otherwise I would not be looking forward to the coming date we fixed and when we come face to face, I wish to delete all the bad views and sentiment I had upon you and that I would want you to warmly receive me as what I am the day I landed onto your territory. And I'm going to hug you so tight that all my broken pieces will stick back together. Hopefully the short time I have is to get to know the hero of my stories better so that in my future anecdotes, he would be described as the protagonist. Please accept my apology. I ❤ you. 

Ahad, 23 Oktober 2016

Crime of Passion

Day to day she tried to convince her ridiculous thoughts to acknowledge the fact that the young man whom she was on tenterhooks,  was undeniably not doomed for her. Her devotions was a misconduct - a crime! He was a complete foreigner, an alien, existing thousands of miles away, and it was a mission impossible for both of them to be brought back together. The windfalls were not heading her way. 
A couple of times she had this nightmare. A beautiful one. A dream full of hopes and excitement. She fantasized of running away from home with the man she loved to a secret place where they could fall in love again but she only ended waking up feeling more troubled by the fantasy. It was just a game in her dreams. Haunted by the wonders, she imagined how nice it would be if it was as simple as that - pack her bags and go! 
She was okay for some days and on some other times she was impassable. The devotions and anticipations still exist in her.  She would not want to let him go. She was craving for the day when the young man would at least send her some verses. She was waiting for just a simple ‘Hi’ and that would reduce the suffering. ‘How could he be so cruel?’ and she broke down into deep silent weeps at the corner of her chamber.
She hoped that one day he would realize she did truthfully care for him and that he was going to miss her being there for him. She might have been worthless to him now but one of these days he would look back and wished things could be different. She might have erased his texts but she would never forget what he wrote. They might have stopped talking but she would never forget his voice. Anything they did she would never forget. One day this pain would make sense to him. If he was late, he would only have a memory to hug because she would not be there anymore. Those were all in her thoughts, in her sobs, in her monologue.                   
She spent the whole month in an altered frame of mind. There was no excitement. She was at her sister’s more often than usual because she had lost her appetite and that she thought her sister’s excellent cooking could help her in the food taking during iftar.
Her body and soul were clearly affected physically and emotionally by her state of affairs. She missed him so badly. Her fragile being could no longer withstand the torture and she couldn’t believe that she had drastically lost so much weight. Not a day that she forgot the man. Her love never seemed to recede. She spent her days in seclusion, praying and hoping to nothingness.

Sabtu, 22 Oktober 2016

The Great Move

At last he made up his mind to move away and be gone from there to put an end to the agony of waiting, the denials and the disclaimer. Once more, I was fenced in the same worried feelings, the similar butterflies in my stomach I had before, when he ditched me last summer.  Every time he made a move,  it gave me the jitters as if I was going to expire and getting closer to death. There was nothing I could do to stop him because that was what he had to do and should be done without further a due. Only that at this time he was being honest. He was not going to get invincible and galloped off into the darkness unexplained. He was moving thousands of miles south to the bottom tip of the continent. He was drifting further away from me and soon it would be too remote and untraceable. He would be hidden in the horizon among the clouds and that very moment I would have to let him go for good. Just so,  I am looking forward to grow my wings and fly, as I am now in no more doubts. If I don't come, I would be lamenting myself for as long as I live. The January rendezvous is going to be a reality. I am coming to you. ❤πŸ’‹

Khamis, 20 Oktober 2016

Please Be Saved...

He was on his own in that big city. Practically day to day occupying his hours in the library, devoting time and attention acquiring knowledge. It took my breath away by his willpower to pursue his dreams. Many times he was disqualified and denied for an admission, but that never distracted him not to try again, even if he had to travel the length and breadth as far as world's end. However, the sudden news he delivered troubled me a lot, when he made aware of the abnormality on his chest and that he was psychologically disturbed by it. I felt a jumpy hot breeze as my blood streaming into my arteries and veins, wrapped up by a gush of insecure feelings, which took me a few ticks of seconds to say something in reply.
I had so many doubts to call for, but as always, he was not a character who would award me an instant feedback. Living with a personality like him requires tolerance and patience. I had to sit tight  the entire night to know the whole story. At times I had the perception that there was no warmth in him, and that I often got annoyed and lost my bearings.
Out of curiosity, I googled and made a sift through on the conditions associated with bruising or discoloration and yellow skin. I was very sure that it was only due to the contusion and muscle strain, injured due to physical activity or labor he was involved in recently, and that I hope it was nothing significant or worrying that needs serious attention.
Thank you God for all Your blessings, for the strength You give me each day and for all the people around me who make my life more meaningful. Please protect them for me,  O Allah. Aameen.πŸ˜”

Selasa, 18 Oktober 2016

The Monologue

Not a single moment did it never cross her common sense that her endearment was unimaginable.  It was forbidden, prohibited by the law of nature. She was not a young maiden whom he would fall madly in love with.  He was all around those eye-catching damsels whom he could easily choose from and that he would not lay eyes on a plain face like her. No doubt she had told herself a million times but the obsession went unruly, unceasingly.  He was always there, intelligibly in her head unendingly, and haunting her day and night for eternity. She had no one to turn to comfort the milestones she was bearing.  Not  a soul would be on her lane to support her for having such a warmth. This was ridiculous and disgraceful.
Very often she would stare blankly at her ceiling in her small square chamber, quizing herself what could be done to ease this melancholy.  Very often too she couldn't help whimpering her heart out the whole day, until she felt sufficient of it. Then she would take a deep breathe of relief, before the waves of gloom, dropped by again.
There were times when she was awaken in the dead centre of nightfall. It was so overpowering for her to carry this anguish any longer. She would turned to the mercy of The Almighty to soothe her and guide her the way to end this sadism, begging for help to terminate this one name ultimately. Dawn was approaching but all the same, the compassion of worship was still there, lingering and conquering her defenceless heart. She was so fatigue and drained but she  just couldn't get him out of her senses.
Now that she had made up her sanity to heal her inner soul from this tormented terrorism of idolization. By no means either way she chose, she would be doomed. She had nothing to lose nor gain. She had decided to sacrifice her existence for this intense feeling of deep devotion to a name called Uzarseef. 

Ahad, 16 Oktober 2016

Voyage To Uncertainty

Most of her afternoons she would sit in her bedroom, long-sufferingly waiting to hear from him. She can’t help thinking about what her life had become when he came part of it. Waiting and wanting him had been the focus of her thought these days, knowing that one day, all that she has envisioned of them together, will finally happen, even if it was just for a moment. She didn’t ever want to lose this feeling. She didn’t ever want to lose him. Yet, still as she continued to lay there and thought about everything he was to her.
Gazing at her red handbag, she gripped it open; taking out a folded photocopied piece of an A4 white sheet she printed a month ago. It was a duplicate of her getaway travel document. She held it in her hands while she stared at the specifics blankly. Stated evidently were all the details of her online booking voyage - a five-day-return-ticket to her preferred journey's end. The time was moving gradually and she was mindful that the day of her leaving was forthcoming, however, she was still vague and doubtful, and this indecision was the most stressful feeling. She was still tangled with the whole lot around her. She was trapped within her waking senses and her involuntary mind, clashing with truth and make-believe. There was no wrong action, just choices and consequences. If she would go, and it turned out to be the wrong thing, she would know for sure. If she did not go, she might always wonder if she should have given it a chance, or she might feel peace and relief of not having the anxiety anymore.
She has been getting herself ready for this clandestine visit all along. She was very convinced of her choice and was looking forward to it, counting the days and weeks which seemed crawling very unhurriedly. This was going to be her very first journey out of the country unaccompanied. She could not comprehend how valiant she was for having this notion of soaring across the earth to see a name she hardly be acquainted with. This was her undisclosed escape and that not a single soul should be alerted of this rendezvous. Should anything befallen her in the land of the aliens, she had nobody except herself to be blamed for. 
It was not this documented and well-arranged travel that distressed her most, it was something else that gave her the fret.   It was the bumping into a soul that has been giving her sleepless nights. It frequently gave her the goose bumps and cold quivers. Her heart stopped five beats whenever she pictured the moment they looked into each other’s eyes. ‘No! I’m not going’ she swayed herself every moment she visualized the discomforting look on the soul’s face the minute he set eyes on her at the arrival hall. She imagined the gaze of numbness of his expression for being embittered and in disappointment. She learned that if  you look carefully at people's eyes, the first five seconds they look at you, the truth of their feelings will shine through and she just couldn’t bear to reflect that situation even in her nightmares. She knew she had nothing to offer him except love and fondness of which had thrown her into that unfamiliar planet. ‘No! It’s final. I’m not flying over there.’  She persuaded herself over and over again,  denying the yearning from within. She didn’t want to be doomed the day he got her. She would rather be living her life hoping and expecting than to lose him utterly.
She was at such a tight spot, stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea and that her soul was held captive. She wanted to distance herself from him, but yet, she didn’t want to lose him. 

Khamis, 13 Oktober 2016

The Forgotten Land in The Mountains

The splendour and salubriousness of the Kashmir Valley is legendary. According to poets and historians, Kashmir is more beautiful than the heaven and is the benefactor of supreme bliss and happiness. It is the best place in the Himalayas, a country where the sun shines mildly. The valley is an emarald set of pearls, a land of lakes, clear streams, green meadows, magnificent trees and mighty mountains where the air is cool, and the water sweet, where men are strong, and women vie with the soil in fruitfulness.
I was spellbounded by this spectacular mountain valley views since I was a school girl. Kashmir has become my point of destination and that one perfect chance I would one day wish to set my foot on and stood there in person to watch those natural beauty with my naked eye.
I am aware of her perplexed political history, that this majestic rich heaven is a land of unresolved dispute, occupied and left abandoned for almost seven decades. Kashmir is like a live-volcano, waiting to kaboom its hot fiery lava of discontentment and dissatisfaction, the anger and determination for freedom from the overstayed guests.
The murderous ambush upon their combative, fanatical youth leader has sparked an immediate cause of an enormous deadly uprising in the valley. It was as though a hungry revengeful lion has been awaken from its long slumber. Kashmir is now on torches of angers. She is boiling with rage of overwhelming revenge,  unstoppable and could never be cooled down unless her righteous freedom, self-determination and independence delivered to them by hook or by crook, an eye for an eye, otherwise they will battle themselves to the last drop of blood and sweat. Nothing could ever make them surrender,  it is now or never. 

Rabu, 12 Oktober 2016

A Letter To Kashmir

Dear Kashmir,
I knew of your existence when I got my hands on you in my Geography and History periods. You are positioned in the Himalayan mountainous region and is distinguished for your beautiful panoramic vista and terrains that pleases the aesthetic senses, so alluring and eye-appealing which fascinated me till now. You are a wealthy and prosperous nation. They say if you are on your own, you will be a country bigger than 126 countries on the globe. Why not?  You own the most costliest spice in the world, the saffron. You have your decorative handicrafts, walnuts, mushrooms and apples. Not forgetting the highest power generation capacity, the tonnes of diversed minerals as well as your best quality sapphire stones.
No wonder your neighbours China, India and Pakistan are envious of you and that they have been mingling with you with a feeling of admiration since the conclusion of the British rule in 1947 which left you as the subject of a territorial conflict.
The black-necked crane, pretty lotus flower and the monumental Chinar tree are your symbols which I know by sight very clearly. This majestic deciduous tree is found in almost your every village. It is a long-living tree and has several properties, a perfect symbol for your longevity and survival.
The thought of seeing you never lose the balance of my mind although I am thousands of  miles away. The few hombres from your breed, to whom I make friends with on the social media are awesome and brilliant human beings,  beautiful creatures with beautiful minds and that honestly speaking I have fallen in deep love with one of your sons. He inspires me to start working back on my passion in writing. 
When Burhan Wani was martyred on 8 July, I was worried sick and bothered not only about the killing of your commander but also your son's whereabouts and well-being for I came to know that your whole valley was in great mess by the scuffle. However I felt grateful that your introvert son survived, alive and well in the capital pursuing his studies. 
I am thankful to your kind hearted son for still keeping in touch with me until now, in spite of his busy routine. Hopefully one fine opportunity, we are able to come face to face for real.  Thank you.

With love,
Crane, Lotus & Chinar

A Time For Us

Everything seemed to be exhausting me, no matter how much I slept, how much coffee I drank or how long I laid down, something inside me seemed to have given up.
My soul was tired. Those intense feelings of fear, a sudden urgency to run away, to escape, the pounding heart racing, the twitchy hot and cold flashes and the chest pained. Those were the awful, nauseating and beastly sorrows I felt in my bones ,when out of the blue, you passed into oblivion like a shot.
"Oh God, I can't stop it! " I began to believe I was no longer in control of my mind. I've never felt my soul being torn apart. I've never loved anyone with all my heart. Never have I dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul.
I felt I was trapped,  being stopped in the tracks,  and slowly sinking into a pit of darkness, scrambling for a hand to pull me out from its depth.  But no one listened.
You never said goodbye. You just disappeared silently right when I needed you.  You drifted away quietly into the distance. I was never given an explanation to why you didn't talk anymore. You just left me hanging there with all the questions in my mind. And it hurt the most because of those unsaid goodbyes.  You just left me with no warnings. It chilled me to the bones.
I wonder if it would be more therapeutic if you could have just stumbled upon a drop of poison so that I could drink and drift into a deep, cold, breathless slumber like Juliet, and that people would think I was dead, but the truth was, I was holding my horses for my Romeo to come on the scene and rescue me and that we would elope and gallop off to the Land of the Cold Mountains and lived happily together in a cabin by the lake beyond the snow-capped mountains.
Startled by the rumbling sounds of the evening thunderclaps, I became conscious of the fact that it was all a dream, a cherished aspiration.

Isnin, 10 Oktober 2016

The Falls In The Land of Uzarseef

Hello Autumn,
Don't be sad we miss our annual rendezvous in your valley during your spell this year. We know you're a faithful lover and not once you ever betray us. You always keep your promise and without fail to make yourself available in every October.

It's not your fault that you are surrounded by the whole shebang and it looks as though no one is not falling victim to your heavenliness bliss.

Believe it! Not for a moment that we are not fascinated by your charms. Yet, the occurrences in your neighborhood keep us at a distance from you. We concluded that the currently ongoing intifada in your earthland is the repercussions of the illegal annexation and the long, pending human atrocities.

Please tell the living souls of your people not to be upset and give up. They have the right to choose their path.  It is their sacred privilege. Brief them to follow their passion, stay true to themselves. We don't want them to tumble down to the ground and get decomposed worthlessly.  We want them to fight and fall in love instead.

Watching your deciduous  trees shed their leaves, reminds us of the falling lives of your comrades in the bloody clashes. They risked their beings to free your ancestral land from the clutches of tyranny and injustice. The fiery red colors of your season resembles their fighting spirit. They fell like falling leaves and they were indeed a beauty in the eyes of the mortals.

Know that this is a war of nerve the intruders are playing. Their attitude is waiting for your people to wear out. The sense of hopelessness might not be a good news for your future, so tell your people never ever get worn out. Stay strong and have faith. Don't give up. Your martyrs' efforts must not be wasted. Bear in your mind that one of these days the victory in the shape of independence will be yours.

My dear Autumn, 
We are aware that the unrest in your land has been going for four months and makes it the longest period in the history. Thousands were injured and killed, and some could no longer watch your grandeur anymore, for as long as they live. Their magnificent eyes are being blinded by the demonic pellet guns. Unrelentless protests continue in almost every part of your valley. The paterfamilias with the heart and mind to bring the quarrelling brood together is missing. They lack the vision and generosity to reach out and embrace your people who feel alien and unwanted. They may call your people brothers, but I know they are actually treating them  like stepchildren. 

Your people demand their rights of self-determination, but in return they are terminated with pellets and bullets. Your grounds is a global friction and that the patriarch should seriously think about it for the sake of humanity. Hear what your people want.
Their land as their soil.

Autumn darling, I love your favourite season,  my cozy friend who returns loyally each and every year. I will always love the Chinar trees until their leaves fall off.  I will encourage them to try again next year and may be I would come running to you, Kashmir. ❤


Ahad, 9 Oktober 2016

Fly Me To Euphoria

"You should come," He said this twice as I recalled.  And I never denied I did say,  " I wish I could fly to you right now". 

Those were the most romantic short whiles we stumbled upon. The whole schmear was genuinely shared from the heart. We had so much pleasure. You were a wicked wizard - so intimate, so influential, and persuasive. I lost my bearings and was drifted off course by your seductive lure. I could never see in the mind's eye that we would be our own pundits - chronicling our passions in just perfect words until we were drown into the real euphoria. 

It was amazing, wasn't  it?  How impressive our senses messed us around ! You had brought me into a totally contrasting, exotic sphere of chimeras. It intoxicated me in a way I couldn't portray. You were so sensational that I was awestrucked, for this was my first such escapade. I was being taken in by you just at a tick of your finger and that I was wildly and utterly in love with you. 

Do you have the idea that, not in a million years ever had I deliberately displayed or clicked myself to be ogled ? Not even for my own eyes to leered at! But that was in every respect what I did for you. Only you! You had given me complete repercussions to my life. Honest-to-God, I've got to see you for once in my existence. ❤

The Best To Have, The Hardest To Keep

I met him early this year in April and we fell into places very easily. He often talks explicitly with no beating about the bush, so plain speaking, and without hesitation. However he's generally very charming and has a way of talking that is comforting. He doesn't really like asking too many things or making demands.  

I never came face to face with him but when I recurrently rattled on with him, I came to learn more about his assence and tone. I'm not blowing my own trumpet,  but sometimes I do able to define people's motives with almost 100% probability, and therefore, remain objective in my assessments. People for me are like an open book, I can easily see anyone through. Many of my friends value my ability to see the eye of the problem a lot, and they say quite often that I could be an excellent psychologist.  Ha!! 😎

However, this exceptional hombre, undoubtedly puts me up into a big confrontation. Quite often he is too silent, an introvert and that he gives me a hard time to pinpoint or explain his attitude. It's like trying to answer a riddle - mysterious and unpredictable. Even so,  I began to understand and unravel him little by little as our friendship blossoms. I came to learn that he's a strong-willed person, independent and very capable. Sometimes he's needy and require a lot of attention. On the contrary, I could feel that he also like spaces and gets annoyed at clinginess. 

As I mingled with him from day to day,  I have the feeling that he likes to protect his vulnerability through humour and a cool exterior, not a biased person and has a very warm and symphatetic heart. He may seem weak and subtle, but you must be very careful with him. If he thinks you're not worth to him, he'll treat you like a complete stranger every time you text him. He can go ice just as fast as he senses it. He can read your thoughts and he is observing your energy and mood.

When he snaps, "Leave it!", it's the end of the issue - change the subject!  Everything you do or say is deeply felt by him. If you hurt his feelings, be prepared to apologize, if not, you are shut out of his world completely. When he stops caring, there will be no second chance. Once he is fade up,  he will not come back. 

He's complicated but he's like a tattoo to me. He has touched my heart and has become a permanent part of me. I can't breathe without him around. That's my life - the best found, the hardest to keep. 

Khamis, 6 Oktober 2016

I Want To Die In Love With You

My love to you is a dangerous disease. It is like a deadly cancer, silently destroying every bit of cells of calmness and tranquility, biting every piece of unperturbed mind, and complicating the blood system of anxiety and expectations. The soul screaming in silence, so heart- wrenching to endure that the body collapse into deterioration, damaging the beauty of its perfections.

Every day and moment it was so tensed and painful. Days and weeks are filled with hopes and wonders of heartaches, suffocating and gasping for air in search of every last straw to ease and heal the pain of wanting you.

The pain of love is so unbearable urging for therapy of closeness and comfort that only the strongest drugs of euphoria would help to end the torture. There is no better option of treatment than to be together, to feel each other, to be loved, seduced and ravished - to quench the thirst of lust. No other medication so curable than the embraces, hugs and kisses to ecstacy of love making.

My cancer for you has reached the final stage, the climax.  Our destiny is heading towards the end. The most awaited perfect moment is on its way to end this torment of madness. The moment we meet and stare into each other's eyes, is the moment when our love dies - snatched away by the angels of truth and actuality.

It is when all the mysteries of expectations fall apart. All the puzzles finally come into places and the real picture is brought to light. There's no hope. The cancer is not worth fighting for. And I'm willing to be unplugged by you, for the pain is too long and insufferable. It's suicidal but I'd rather die in honour, in your sadistic embrace in our love nest. I give in to you with the hope of both, to be cured and killed at the same time, as I wanted to die in love with you.

Selasa, 4 Oktober 2016

The Forgotten Land of Uzarseef

The splendour and salubriousness of the Kashmir Valley is legendary. According to poets and historians, Kashmir is more beautiful than the heaven and is the benefactor of supreme bliss and happiness. It is the best place in the Himalayas, a country where the sun shines mildly. The valley is an emarald set of pearls, a land of lakes, clear streams, green meadows, magnificent trees and mighty mountains where the air is cool, and the water sweet, where men are strong, and women vie with the soil in fruitfulness.

I was spellbounded by this spectacular mountain valley views since I was a school girl. Kashmir has become my point of destination and that one perfect chance I would one day wish to set my foot on and stood there in person to watch those natural beauty with my naked eye.

It never crosses my mind that out of million other marvellous things in the world,  I would be enchanted not only by her nature, but also by one of the sons of her ancestors whom I met on the line. He is the most magnificent attraction I have ever encountered and that my heart and soul were under his clutches, bewitched and captivated by his perfections which camouflaged perfectly with the awesomeness of his homeland.

I am aware of her perplexed political history, that this majestic rich heaven is a land of unresolved dispute, occupied and left abandoned for almost seven decades. Kashmir is like a live-volcano, waiting to kaboom its hot fiery lava of discontent and dissatisfaction, the anger and determination for freedom from the overstayed guests.

The murderous ambush upon their combative, fanatical youth leader has sparked an immediate cause of an enormous deadly uprising in the valley. It was as though a hungry revengeful lion has been awaken from its long slumber. Kashmir is now on torches of angers. She is boiling with rage of overwhelming revenge,  unstoppable and could never be cooled down unless her righteous freedom, self-determination and independence delivered to them by hook or by crook, an eye for an eye, otherwise they will battle themselves to the last drop of blood and sweat. Nothing could ever make them surrender,  it is now or never. 

Isnin, 3 Oktober 2016

I Write Because I ❤You

Writing was not a childhood dream of mine. I do not recall longing to write as a student. I wasn't sure how to start. But I write better than I talk. My writings are more expressive when  I'm highly strung and explosive.

I always write hard and very clear about what hurts me. At present I have a story in me and it has to come out. No one can tell and write my story so I tell and write it myself. I write about what disturbs me, what I fear, what I have not been willing to speak about but I am willing to split open and be amazing in my own kind. There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.  If I don't write to empty my mind,  I go mad.  All I have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that I know.

I always listen to my heart. Even though it is on my left side, it will always be right. Writing is the art of discovering what I believe, where I paint my voice and put my thinking on a piece of paper. Sometimes only paper will listen to you.

I don't hide my madness in me and I follow my inner moonlight, concentrating on what I want to say to myself and my friends. I say what I want and I don't care who's listening. It gives me energy whatever it is about. I will only fail when I stop writing. To me,  the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make. A true piece of writing can change your life and it is a dangerous thing. ✏

I don't want anyone reading my writing to think about style. I just want them to be in the story. So long as I write what I wish to write, that is all that matters, and whether it matters for ages or only hours,  nobody can say. What a comfort it is, when I tell myself and throw the burden on my book and feel relieved.

I write beautifully the inside of my mind, and some say it must be a terrible place. Even on busy days I find little time for my writing. Anything you say or do may be used in my story for I'm creative.

Writing is a flip side of sex- it's only good when it's over.  So I will write and I will write, and write, about how much I don't miss you until I don't miss you anymore. Wonder why I write so hard? It's simple. I love you. ❤

Ahad, 2 Oktober 2016

My Love Is A War

Life is funny. Just when you think you've got it all figured out, just when you finally begin to plan something, get excited about it and feel like you know what direction you're heading in, the path change, the signs change, the wind blows the other way, north is suddenly south, and east is west and you're lost. The truth is you don't know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a scary ride, and nothing is guaranteed.

Never had I passed my days without counting the seconds, minutes and hours to finally grab my bags, leave a note, and go!  I just can't wait to go somewhere secret where we can fall in love and set our soul on fire - for real, flesh, blood and bones. No more imaginings. No more daydreamings. Nothing but the truth.

However, my overwhelming urge to run away is shattered by a war at the border, a bloody symptom of man's failure as a thinking animal, a failure of democracy, a cowardly escape from the problem of peace and the trade of kings. The war breaks and hinders your every beautiful things, every hopes, love and dreams on the flight to happiness. 

My love for you is just like the war, it always finds a way. It all began when I failed to bring my heart and my mind into a diplomatic, peace talk. My soul declares war on the heart just after a launch of surgical strike on the mind. The oppression was so great that the soul chooses to love, an escape from the problem of confusion, the last option of democracy. I was defeated and surrendered myself in the conflict. I  am a soldier who was conquered and fell hard for you, held captive and brutally tortured emotionally, in a matter of moments, the minute I saw your name without knowing the real you. My whole being was haunted and occupied by your ghost. 

Once the love takes over the battle field,  it's difficult to end and impossible to forget. It has been recorded, written and could not be erased in the book of life history. Both the war and love need sacrifices and hurts and all the thousand shocks of life. They are the gloriest dreams of determination, an attractive rainbow that rises in showers of tears and the worst of nightmares when you lose. But it also means beauty of independence - true beauty. No matter how painful it is, my war with you is one of the prettiest things that crosses my life border, my Line of Control.❤