A Wish.

In a land of absolute normalcy, and nothing out of the ordinary, there was a girl. A girl who was completely normal, ordinary. There she was, in class that day, the 20th of October. The professor droned on and on, but her fragile mind was on other unnecessary and unimportant things. The girl was nostalgic. With her heart split across three continents, this wasn’t an infrequent condition. There were smells she longed to inhale and voices she wanted to hear. There was a certain temperature of the air she wished was there.

She thought of waffles and shortbread. She thought of flavoured yogurt and freshly made finger fish. With beans. And sweet corn. And flavoured water.

She thought of a house that would be warm and comforting against biting cold winds. She thought of the maternal presence in that house. She thought of the last time she had hugged her. The way her short plump figure had completely encompassed her entire being in a split second. Perhaps she had not realised what she was to the girl. If she had, she would’ve held on longer. She thought of all those times she had woken up from unpleasant dreams to find a familiar, comforting snore gently rock her back to sleep. She thought of all the times she had been fussed on upon, the many summer holidays spent in ignorant bliss. The way her grandmother had tried to make the most of the every meeting, to somehow cover the distance of an entire continent.

She thought of a tiny bundle of joy, blessed with the most beautiful smile, barely a year old. She thought of her niece, the way she giggled when she was thrown in the air. The way her smile melted the hardest heart, the way she spread love and joy indiscriminately with just her presence.

There came to her mind an old, fragile-looking man too, with endless grace and dignity. A man who was a living miracle (literally). A man who was the most splendid example of resilience, hardwork, determination, and above all, will power. A man loved and respected by so many, but she considered herself so lucky to be loved by him. A man she looked up to, her grandfather. Countless times that old wrinkled face had smiled upon her, as if her insignificant being was actually the source of his pride. A brown face, sometimes appearing in her memory sitting in an intense Punjabi sun, other times laying on a pillow, sleeping in front of the fire, cozy against the frost outside that so many Punjabis yearned for but never experienced. Most of the times, though, he was either dressed in a three-piece suit, or a crisp shalwar kameez, actively pacing about, never a dull moment. The best storyteller.

There were other memories on this continent, some personal, others not as much. Her wandering mind, however, moved to another continent, one she had never been to, but which contained a piece of her heart. A family, more beloved to her than belgian chocolate, if chocolate was a scale. A family she hoped to see again, soon. But the prospects looked dim.

Finally, the third continent. The continent she currently found her physical being on. A land containing almost all her memories, some sweet, some sour. A land where she was thankful to still have some of the people she loved and cherished. Her paternal grandfather, a man with unwavering faith in Allah. The most patient man she had seen in her life. Born to be great. And that was what he had achieved. Though not as expressive as herself, he had loved them in his own way and shown it. She knew him by the words: bravery, wisdom, chivalry, gentlemanliness, discipline, tolerance and trust. A man of endless dignity and grace, a man she looked up to. A man was respected greatly and deeply by everyone. A man who taught how to respect, simply by showing it. A man who led by example.

She was still nostalgic. She wanted to have everyone and everything within her grasp. She wished it was so. But at the same time she knew she could not be ungrateful for all that God had already blessed her with. So, she said a quiet, heartfelt prayer and thanked Him for all the blessings she already had.

The bell rung. She was forced back to Earth.


This prompt came along at the right time.

Advertisements

A Lost Key

They say there is a land. A land composed entirely of thoughts, feelings, emotions and most importantly: words. They say there is a land where words flow in the streams, words accumulate in the oceans, words pour down with the rain. They say that the words are not hateful and full of spite, nor do they contain malice. It is a land full of clear intentions, crystal clear. They say it is a land where men and women are judged and respected based on their words and words alone. They say it is a land where people write and read and write and read. They say it is a land where respect is based on the quality of words, where nobility is expression. They say it is a land where people need not worry about careers and money and materials. It is a land for the creative. A land for expression. They say it is a land where words run free…. where there are no chains or borders or limitations in vocabulary. They say…

They also say it is a land amidst beauty and purity. They say the land is guarded against anything that could be potentially harmful. They say there is a high wall, electrocuting anything that threatens to invade. They say there is only one way to enter: a gate. The gate has long, iron bars, with gold spheres on top that glow. They say it is an extension of Jannah (Heaven). They say that on that gate is a single fragile-looking lock, made of white gold. They say the lock is actually deceit, it is the strongest lock there is. They say that the only way to enter is to unlock it with a key. And, that key is lost.

That is where my heart lies.

In a lost key.


Had a hard time with this post. I just couldn’t think of anything! Oh well. Here it is now.

Check out today’s writing prompt here:

https://zoyakubra.wordpress.com/2017/09/23/october-writing-challenge/

Dandelion Dreams

Her days stretched ahead of her, monotonous, uninteresting, dreary. Her eyes saw the same pictures, her brain comprehended the same words, her tongue rolled the same letters. Her ears detected the same frequencies, her nose picked up the same smells, her fears feared the same fears.

But then there was her mind.

Her mind soared, desperate to not be ordinary, soaring the heights in the sky. Her mind delved deep, deep into the secrets the oceans never revealed, deep into the secrets of life itself. Her mind heard the untold stories of sold fragrances. Her mind felt the softness of flower petals, it rolled in green fields feeling every blade of grass give birth to life anew.

There she was.

Chasing, wanting, desiring, following, caressing.

Little did she know.

She was dreaming dandelion dreams.


*sighs* I know, I know, nothing quite special for today. But hey I still did it so that counts as a plus, eh? And yes, I didn’t do anything yesterday because (a) I couldn’t think of anything and (b) I had no time. And it will probably get even more irregular, folks. Sorry 🙈

Anyways, this amazing prompt was here:

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2017/10/01/october-writing-prompts/

Pink Persuasion

That was them, dark

Being darker still

Rolling about,

Without form.

Then there was a crack,

And there it came, the Light

Pink. Like diamonds.

Making them,

Scatter, then dance

Becoming lighter and lighter

Until the demons finally

Were no more

And all they needed

To leave my heart in peace

Was the tiniest bit of

Pink Persuasion.


Another post for the October writing prompts.

Check it here: https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2017/10/01/october-writing-prompts/

Moonlight Reflections

I don’t remember much, except for the feeling. I don’t remember much, except it was a perfect night, and a scent covered the Earth making me feel alive with every breath I took. Every time I inhaled, miraculous fresh air poured into my lungs, detoxifying the filthy city air, rejuvenating my very being. I don’t remember much, except that the world looked so petty and that somehow the Divine Presence felt so near, so comforting, so incredibly overpowering. I don’t remember much, but there may have been tears, not the kind that result from heartache, but the kind which purify your soul and leave you peaceful. I don’t remember much, but I know that the air had a chill, a welcome chill after such oppressive heat, and that although it was not cold but I must have been shivering. I don’t remember much, except that there was a moon, and there was moonlight, and that upon reflecting, it was petty what was plaguing me, and those moonlight reflections preserved my sanity.

(Fiction)


So I’m doing the October prompts now. Not regularly, but just to push myself to write more often.

Check it out here: https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2017/10/01/october-writing-prompts/

More Stuff I’m terrible at (ahem ahem AWARDS!)

So there’s this really cool blogger who nominated me for this award and after much procrastination, I’ve decided it’s now or never. But honestly, I love these awards! So thankyou Khadeeja, much love ❤️. And please go ahead and check out her blog, especially this post.

So for the rules let me just cut and paste:

The Unique Award is basically all about getting to know other bloggers and celebrating what makes their blogs unique. Here are the rules: • Thank your nominator

• Answer the questions that your nominator left for you •  Nominate 5-10 people (and let them know) • Set questions for your nominees to answer.

Here goes.

Questions:

1. Describe your blog in 3 words.

Random, growing, exploring.

2. Where do you get blogging inspiration from?

Would it be weird and cliched if I said words? But lots of things inspire me to write. It could be a blank page or a fit of emotion or something. I mean literally anything.

3. If you could meet one person, dead or alive, who would it be?<
Iqbal.

4. And if you could ask them one question what would you ask?

.How?

5. If you were a colour, which would you be?<
Red. Red. Red.

The Nominees:

1. herwritinghaven<<lovereaddream<<<<misfitnarrator<<<<Scottishmuslimah<<<<chasingsakina<<<<Accidentallyinked<<<<shoaib

My Questions:

1.Three words for how you would describe yourself.

2. What do you do when you’re negative?

3. Is there a wall you could stare at for ages?

4. One place you’d like to just sit and think?

5. Are cats smarter than humans?

Well! I hope you people enjoy. And thank you once again Khadeeja for making me feel so special. *smiles ear to ear*

I’m sorry for all the editing mistakes. WordPress isn’t listening to me. Bear with me heh❤️

Hey there! Pt. 2

Take off your shoes. Don’t worry, this is dirt, but it’s clean dirt. Like the Earth. The un polluted, pure parts of the Earth. Walking on this will actually make you feel better. So anyways, come on in, lonely soul. Yes, we have established the fact that you might not be a lonely soul. But if you are one of the rare people who have found their soulmate, please hold your tongue. You wouldn’t want to offend your host? Especially since you are in the host. I mean in my brain. But here we are, and off we go once more on the tour.
So I know last time our goodbyes were a bit rushed and abrupt. What can I do? Management had a fit. Management was still so against having you over again. But what can I do? I had to.
So that’s the path we took last time. This time, Management told me to lay out the rules before we went inside. I know, tedious. Anyways: just don’t touch anything, ESPECIALLY A MEMORY, and keep to the path. Stick with me because trust me, you do NOT want to get lost in here.
So I thought I would take you to the Insomniac Sector. This is where I am when I can’t sleep. You might find that this is covered with crazy colours, but that’s just how it is. So come over here. You see this tube? It’s like a tunnel but I don’t think anyone can fit down here (even if you are skinny and small enough don’t try it) but this is also the most unfortunate connection. This connects my brain to my legs. In other parts, similar hollow tubes connect my legs to those other parts. So basically, when I can’t sleep, I get this urge to move my legs, hence the tossing and turning. Moving on, we can see over here how the Bad Memory Sector is linked to this part too: every stupid and cringy thing I may have done or said is revisited and re-evaluated. As you can see: the Over-Analysing Sector is also connected. The Fear of The Unknown and The Fear of the Near Future are also located behind that black box. The Fears are actually part of this Sector and we just provide connections when they are required in other Sections or in other times. I can’t open this black box in your presence. I’ll tell you what it contains: an overwhelming concentrated colour fusion. Opening this will keep you awake for hours, until you feel as if you are loosing yourself and your soul into this. After that the Colours will trick you into the Void. Here, the Void will strip you of your identity and defence. The Void will strip you until you are raw and bare and then it will target you with everything you have ever avoided or defended yourself against. You think you’re so smart that you can just choose to not go into the Void? Do you not know of the sinister nature of these colours, enticing you with their ways, luring you in into a seemingly merry world and then… The Void. Many a man has lost his sanity here. You remember when I took your coats at the door? I didn’t just take your coats. I took away your material existence. So take a look at yourself. What are you? A bare soul. Vulnerable. So the only material existence here is the one that I possess. Nevertheless, let us continue!
Any questions? No?
Your sanity?
My sanity? You see, this is my brain. My brain is the guardian of my sanity. So yes, I have been in the void, and yes, I have survived it.
The insomniac Sector gets its own access to the Eyes. You know the little innocent light of the street lamps outside which slips in through the tired old curtains and dances on the ceiling? My brain stares at the light until it reaches the intensity of the Sun and becomes unbearable. Aah the connection with the ears: this is what makes me think that my brother breathing in his sleep sounds like a train going around in my head, whistling away in my ears.
This is the overall-over sensitivity of the entire body: usually, I can sleep anywhere no matter how hard or soft it is. But in insomniac times, the slightest bump feels like a huge knife trying to pierce my skin.
Over here, this is the Past and opposite this is the Future. I spend a lot of time inside these rooms. The space in between is (quite obviously) the Present but I guess during Insomniac times being in the present gives me anxiety, even though the anxiety is in anticipation of the future….
So here we are in the Conversation Room. Here I go through any conversations I may have had, online or offline, and think how I could’ve answered differently or said something wittier if only I had taken an entire insomniac night to think before I answered. Not that there’s something wrong with what has been said. But what’s an insomniac night without over-analysing and worrying about something completely useless and unproductive, right?

Anyways. I don’t want you to start thinking you know everything about me or atleast about this Sector. There’s lots that has been left unsaid. It’s safer that way. That’s the door right there, if you want you can leave, if you want we can have a coffee or something. It’s up to you but I won’t show you more. I think this is enough for this time.
So what do you say? Coffee or “Rab Rakhan”?