That Old Woman

She was old and frail, with an arched back. She drew her scarf over her forehead as she waited. When she raised the palm of her right hand over her squinty black eyes to shield herself from the mid-day heat, the long, loose sleeves of her abaya slipped to the sweaty  valley at the end of the forearm, and revealed a hard, brown, bony hand. The other arm was struggling to carry big, bulky bags of old clothes she'd gathered from her begging rounds.

She was exhausted. She had left her sickly children back at home earlier during the day, and had visited some fifty houses or so in under two hours. Some turned her out. Most of them didn't even bother opening their doors for her. But still, she always found one or two houses with sympathetic folks who would acknowledge her presence with a rupee or two. She always left a prayer for them.

Today, however, was not a very good day. Although she had managed to get a few old clothes for her children, she was too tired to continue her long and unwinding walk back home, what with her swollen feet and the blazing heat. She had enough change in her handkerchief to spare her an autorickshaw ride for about half the way home. The other half...she'd think about that later. It was too hot to think. She was feeling dizzy from hunger and thirst too.

An autorickshaw was whirring its way towards her. She picked up her bulky bags, and raised a bony hand to hail it. The driver took one look at her, and sped by. She refused to take offense.

Another autorickshaw refused to take her, and yet another. They seemed to have no trouble offering their service to well-off families or other individuals with bulky shopping bags, though.
The heat was starting to get worse, just as the sharp pain in her back and heels.

After an hour of waiting, she decided she was wasting her time and energy. The old, frail woman with the arched back picked up her bulky bags of worn out clothes, and began her journey back home with swollen feet and aching arms, under the blazing heat of the sun, muttering to herself:
for my children...I must not collapse for the sake of my children...

Shaking Off The Parentheses

I do not wish to explain myself. 

I do not wish to be bound on both sides by invisible parentheses wherever I go.

My actions, my values and my thoughts are clear and self-explanatory,

just as I like them to be.

Chase that Dream

If you have a dream, chase it.
Even if you feel like your knees are going to give in.
Even if you feel like your lungs are going to burst out.

Chase it till it's all yours.

Act Now

Here we are throwing away our lives to the demons when there are so many out there clinging onto ventilators to facilitate the next breath they take...

Think about the gravity of their plight for a while.

Can you even begin to imagine the situation when breathing, which comes so involuntarily to you, becomes a herculean task?

Can you imagine a situation where you don't know whether you'll get to see your loved ones within the next few seconds?

Can you imagine having only a couple of hours to live, and a lifetime of hopes and dreams crumpled into a ball of absolute nothingness?

Can you even begin to imagine all those confusing, saddening thoughts (or lack thereof) that'll be running around in incoherent loops in your head at that point of time when help is an impossible proposition?

Can you imagine bidding good-bye to the people you love, the things you love and the chances you'd always wanted to take, but had put off for a 'better' time?

Do you still want to waste your precious time brooding over something that honestly amounts to nothing?

Do you still want to pursue and lose wonderful relations over all those material activities that you can't even take to your grave?

I didn't think so either.

Now and today and this moment is all you have to make everything count.

Tell your dear ones that you love them, unconditionally.

Compliment the person you've always admired.

Be kind.

Smile, even through your tears. There's nothing more beautiful than a person who puts his/her worries beneath him/her when the going gets tough.

Apologize, no matter how difficult it is. Don't let your ego get in the way of a beautiful relationship before it's too late.

Take risks, make mistakes. And most importantly, learn from them.

Realize your goals. Be who you were cut out to be.

Remember, your health is your biggest asset.
Make the most of it before it's your chance to turn in.

There's no time left to lose.
Act now.

Inner Peace

Being at peace with your inner self makes every other problem seem a lot less terrifying.
Prayer gives you that inner peace.
You hand over all your problems to Allah, and He lifts you up from everything that's weighing you down with a great buoyant force that leaves you feeling as light as a feather.
My God, who wouldn't want to partake in such a wonderful exchange!

I'll See You

One day, I'll see Your face

As closely, and as sure

As I see the big, bright

White moon from my window sill.

What awe awaits!

If...

If all of us were to look like our souls and spirits for a day, I wonder how many of us would truly look beautiful, and how many disgustingly repulsive. I can only venture so far as to propose that whatever be the difference in turn out, the results will, no doubt, leave us utterly stumped! 

Absentia

Why do you come to me
Like an enigmatic dream
Just to draw back, ever so swiftly,
Like the waves?

Why won't you, just this once,
Stand by my side
On the shores of my memories
And stay?

Why don't you quit residence
In your heavenly abode just for today?
Walk hand-in-hand with me,
Look at the sea shells scattered all around
Take in the earth's spirit, the one
You seem to have forgotten,
And tell me all there is to know
About life and living
About death and dying
About love and loving
About pain and suffering
Please. Don't spare anything.

But departed spirits can never let slip
The secrets of the cosmos
To the mortal tenants of the Earth.
Is that why, every once in a while,
You come to me like a dream,
Just to sojourn briefly like the waves?

SubhaanAllah!

You see rain.

And then you realize you're witnessing Allah's Mercy taking the most tangible,

the most beautiful elemental form.

And then you feel so honoured.

Oh so very honoured!

The Optimist

You tell me I'm no good?

You better be prepared to see what I'm capable of.

You tell me I'm messed up, lost and confused?

The darkest hour is just before a beautiful dawn, pal.

You tell me I'll never rise up to the challenge?

I'm not as pessimistic about it as you are.

You tell me that I'll never amount to much?

I have more faith in myself than you do about me. 

And that's all I'll ever need.

You tell me that the rope I'm walking on is too thin?

All the more reason to do it. 

You tell me that I'm too smug and over-confident?

I think the terms you're looking for are 'bold' and 'spirited'.

You warn me that my limitations will hold me back?

I'm not held back by you, am I?

You tell me...wait, you're running out of words to throw at me?

Well. Now that I've made myself crystal clear,

I guess I'm done talking.

*

Sehnsucht

Everything is still as a picture outside. Apart from the occasional chirring of lonesome crickets, there is pin drop silence all around. It's hard to believe how quiet it is, considering how it had rained quite heavily just an hour ago.

The dew drops caught in between the recesses of the iron-gate look like tiny little pearls in the dim light that's streaming in from the house across the street. The puddles on the road glisten in the gloomy light and catch my fancy every now and then.  

The wholesome silence of the night- which was beginning to offer appetizing fodder for introspection and contemplation, mind you - is suddenly disturbed by a sunburst of sound and light.

SLOSH!  A car just sped by, strong beams of its headlight intruding the stillness first, followed by the splashing of the tires against the luminous puddles. The car turns around the corner, and everything slowly settles into place again...not without grumbling a little first. 

I don't know what it was that triggered it, but something within me gave in; the feeling of tranquility that had kept me company before the unexpected intrusion started to crumble into tiny little shards of longing...for a nameless something or someplace that exists somewhere in the ancient tomb of memories buried in the back of my mind and that shows up in all its naked glory only in my dreams...

Sometimes you don't miss a certain something or someone or someplace. Sometimes you miss a body, a collection, a mass of people, places and things that you used to know...

Other times, though, you don't just miss the familiar. You long for something or someone or someplace that you don't even know but can't help missing. You long for a world so different from your own, despite the fact that your world's the only one you've ever known. You're not conscious of what it is that you're pining for, but the feeling's there all the same...strong and powerful. It's like nostalgia, only with a twist: instead of missing someone or something you used to know, you find yourself unconsciously aching for that extra something that you desperately want to catch hold of, and which will help you rise above the helplessness you're feeling.

The Germans have a word for it, thankfully; sehnsucht represents a profound feeling of longing, of perfecting the imperfect in life; a desperate yearning for a land far, far away, a land unlike any earthly domain with which we are acquainted.

It's still quiet outside. The puddles lie dormant; there's not even a ripple in sight. The trees stand still. The tiny dew drops scattered on the leaves and the gate glisten like stars in a forgotten universe. Somewhere in the distance, a stray dog lets out a long, shrill howl... and then silence engulfs the remainder of the night.

Maybe this feeling will go away after a while. 

Seeking the Invisible Player

I know I've heard it before. That strange melody that keeps haunting my senses... that tune so awe-inspiring and frightening at the same time, like the shrill howl of a wolf at midnight. That heavenly serenade that enraptures you mind, body and soul- like the cries of a forest bird in a mystical land, or like fairies mourning the departure of a sensuous night. That melodia so much like the wind that sends half-human whispers as it knocks relentlessly at every door, that harmonic strain which seems so familiar and yet so far off, so endearing yet so maddening...

If  I could meet the soul working the lyre that seems to enchant me so much, I would never let her leave the vicinity of my being. Until and unless, ofcourse, she teaches me how to work the chords that make up that beautiful, if melancholic, refrain that elevates the senses... and alleviates all doubt.

Oh, you of incoherent harmonies! Won't you reveal yourself to me and put me out of my misery?