Vacant Stares

The river, it flows

Reflecting images in its course

It gushes forth, every second

A new image

Images never seen by humanity

Images the river hides

Images. The rocks’ secrets.

Of everything that took place

But wasn’t ever seen by eyes

The eyes that

When witnessed miracles

Nature’s greatest

Blinked.

And turned away

Often looked down

At artificial screens

In the presence of Grandeur.

So nature, in revenge,

Feeling insulted

At something the Creator

of the moon created

Being rejected,

Took away their sights

So that they never saw

And all that remained

Were vacant stares


I know I’m not doing these prompts everyday, and BELIEVE ME I had some pretty cool ideas too, but I just didn’t have the time! Also, I love how they make me think! It’s so fun. If you haven’t tried this already, why don’t you check it out here? Also, I’m doing two different prompts at the same time. So you can check out the other one in the previous post.

Check this one out here:

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

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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/

The Journey Beyond

There are several underpasses in the Canal Bank Road. I know only nine, and for some unfathomable reason, I seem to have memorised all their names. But that is beside the point.

If you take the bus every morning, and find yourself on that road at half six, you will be forced to observe every little detail every single morning. It doesn’t matter wethar or not you want to, but the fact remains: it is impossible to sleep on that bus, hence you rely on your observations to keep you amused and, well, awake.

However, it is a completely different experience in a car. A smooth ride, noiseless, peaceful, no sudden jolts attempting to disintegrate your vertebrae. You could sleep if you want. When you pass through an underpass, there isn’t much of a spectacle. Just another bend in the road, though downwards.

On a bus, though, it is quite an event. Keep in mind, the windows of the bus are always open, unless there is a particularly difficult passenger who insists to torture all those other people who were not fortunate enough to get a window seat. Along with the not-so fresh air and dirt and toxic fumes that come in, there is, also, a whole lot of NOISE. Not just the traffic outside: motorbikes, tractors, trucks, cars, rickshaws, vans, wagons(yes in the early mornings all these vehicles are allowed too). But also the constant sound of the bus itself, its engine roaring consistently, never letting you forget you are in a bus. However, on the road, these noises are an open environment. Spreading out in all directions. Nothing specified, no collectivity.However, passing through an underpass is a quite different story. The sounds, now confined for a moment of time within the walls, reflect back and provide you with a collective impact. Bouncing back, they combine at the epicentre: that instant in which your bus passes through the centre of the underpass. For a brief second, (that is, if you are awake), you experience a strange sensation. A sensation that I could never truly justify with mere words. A combination of frequencies that were never meant to be combined. And if you overthink it like I do, you shall experience a weird sort of contentment. As if the universe revealed some of its secrets to you.You want to stop right there. Stop time itself to live an eternity in what is a split second. Perhaps because you dread the monotony of “routine”. Perhaps. But you know. You know.That you must venture into the journey beyond.


This would’ve been better suited had the prompt been “overthinking about petty things” rather than The Journey Beyond. But oh well. Heh.

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/

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/

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"?

Dark Clouds

Dark clouds have turned day into dullness. A magnificent wind blows, entering this window and exiting that window. It is so dark I cannot read, yet I have not switched on any lights yet. The darkness corresponds to my mood. For days now, weeks, the weather had been the same: either oppressive heat with unbearable humidity, or continuous rainfall still with humidity. Why should I call a continuous rainfall “still”? It was so. Everything was still. Days rolled into weeks, weeks into months, and yet all was still. Utter monotony. I sat on the floor, amidst cotton amd nail polish. Looking out, seeing the hours while away, away to be lost in monotony. People ask: are you well? Yes, I am well. Well enough. I have everything I could need and more: monotony. An unchanging routine with no chance of excitement. No prospect for difference for another year or so. People are dying around the globe, death visits the neighbors and here I am. Perhaps the most ungrateful of them all? Perhaps just human? Books find me a way to escape: sometimes the past, sometimes in lands so far from my eye and yet, as soon as we come back, the sameness returns, the circumstances are still, our ways uninterrupted. We have done so much and yet nothing. Looking out I see a freshness in the green of the leaves but I know as I leave the house in accordance with my routine, I shall come back to find even that stale with dust. Sometimes the rain intensifies, sometimes it calms down, sometimes it even stops. I know I have a lot to do and not enough time, yet I know if these words are not penned down they too will be lost in the vast expanses of my thoughts. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. When I prioritise something above words, I am punished by their loss. Yet writing deprives me of words too. This is sometimes pleasant: no words to think of, a clear mind, a consciousness. However, sometimes it has the reverse effect: I am overburdened with words and they keep forming until I have no alternative except to put my mind at rest: sleep. But all this does not relieve me of the current monotony. Seeing the time, however, I realise that I have nothing new to offer to anyone. I am NOT depressed, or upset. These feelings have now turned into cliches and irritate me to an extent that is unbearable. Perhaps you wouldn’t understand, but try living your entire life with the female species of this society… particularly the Homo sapiens. Felis felidae would make a nicer alternative for this society but that has other problems and anyways, I have yet to write about that another day. Anyways, as I was saying, I am not upset or anything, I am just tired of the same sameness that engulfs my world, even though the Earth is in chaos.

Until next time, stay hydrated.

Rab Rakhan. 

(P.S. If you happen to be a female of the species mentioned, please do not be offended, I was referring to the females found in my society that I face. Just like when I do my post on the females of Felis felidae, I shall be referring to those of my society too. I should add that this post reflects my mood for this passage of time, and that almost none of my posts reflect my “permanent” moods or stances on anything, if such a thing exists. Also if there is someone genuinely depressed or upset, you have my sympathies. I was referring to all those people who have turned this into cliches. May Allah bless us all with His bounties. Remember me in your prayers.)