Guest post – A short story by Aroosa Mushtaq Malik

Bakhtawar barged in through the door. Her chaddar had slipped off her head, and a look of sheer panic and agony tormented her face, for she knew it now: there was no saving her daughter from the merciless mob.

They were on the doorstep now, banging on the wooden door. A small chain lock was not enough to keep the men out; men who howled like wild animals set free from captivity, like hounds, let loose on prey. She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, who cried soundlessly in her arms, awaiting her fate.

Forcing their way in, knocking over everything in the path, dust rose around their feet as they stampeded into her room. Bakhtawar could only scream as the men lunged at her daughter, pulling her from arms and dragged her outside. She was stripped off of her clothing in the street, the men tearing her esteem apart, shaming and ogling her, finding excuses to touch the swell of her nubile breasts, brushing palms against her pelvis. Bakhtawar’s cries were muffled amidst the wild shouting of the crowd. She wanted to laugh at the irony of it too; lustful animals, the lot of them, stoning her daughter for honor’s sake.

She was taken to the boys’ playground where a football match was already underway. It stopped as the crowd lugging her daughter emerged into the playfield. The players stopped in mid-runs and mid-shouts and the ball bounced off someone’s leg unnoticed. They paused and stood, mouths agape. She watched them lead her daughter among the vultures, her path blocked by other women.

“You heartless animal! They will kill my daughter. Have you no mercy, have you no shame? She’s naked among them. My daughter…”

Bakhtawar wept in the tangles of arms that kept her from going to her daughter.

Guest post – A story by Nishat Shuja.

 

It was the day when my world collapsed. I could not save my brother instead I continued to watch with disbelief as he was shot in the back of his head. I was so helpless. Why? I told him it was not a good plan but he was determined to leave Damascus. His stubbornness took his life. I remember gazing at him as he took his last breaths in my lap. I wish I could have died there with him. It was hard enough to realise that our parents were killed in an airstrike and now he left me as well.

Asil sat in a hospital bed in Riyaq after fleeing Syria in the middle of all the chaos. She cursed herself to have survived with some bruises while Hayan became a target in the border clashes. These were common punishments to Syrians who tried to flee to Lebanon for safety.Sons getting killed in front of their mothers’ eyes and brothers bidding farewell in sisters’ hands was a regular practice.

“It was Hayan’s plan to escape the chaos” Asil cried while talking to a nurse. “I knew it was impossible but he did not listen. He justified by saying that we were going to be killed back in the homeland eventually, so why not try our luck for once”.

He ignored the fact that luck is scarce for Syrians. Nobody there is sure to see the dawn of a new day. Each day is a continuous effort to survive till the next. And there have been numerous Hayans who died similarly or more brutally by the violence. Some were beheaded while others were shot. Most were escaping to Lebanon but it was a fool’s gold for Hayan. This calamity left Asil a soulless body and made her a living corpse.

First love.

A shooting star over her head,
Those shiny, twinkling street lamps,
Empty pathways and silent longings;
11:11, make a prayer!

She stayed quiet and slowly uttered,
“Him”.
Instantly then,
The aching heart whispered;
“First love never dies”.

Just a fraction of second,
Shuddering the shoulders,
She continued walking,
“Some hopes always remain unfed.”

Hurt.

The crispy sound echoed around

as he turned the pages,

walking slowly along the shore,

Far away the horizons met,

colors merging, waves meeting and then, leaving again.

“Didn’t it all splash just in a second?”

He felt like the roaring waves would question,

everytime he looked at them.

 

So, it is true,

He thought to himself,

Sunsets are not forever gloomy

but they always speak of parting.

“Sigh! What an irony”,

“Some find happiness in their going away”, a calm wave touched his feet,

a cold memory surged down his spine,

 

“Patience, dear heart”

Untold.

Have you ever wondered
what does the back tell?
That every little thing the mouth
is reluctant to speak about.
All the moments witnessed
by the eyes but untold,
the unopened aches of the heart,
the darkness of night,
the silently endured miseries.
This is why,
in this little dangling life,
the other day
when I stepped over a hurdle and
stumbled,
I realized, my spine weighed so heavy,
for it actually carried all the burden singly
and never complained,
telling about each gust and every gaze
fallen upon it, to the one who listened.

Realization.

And how many more
silent nights and dead mornings
would it take, till you finally realize
this aching pang in your chest,
that surges, with every sip of coffee
pouring down into your soul, telling secretly;
it has ended,
that sacred love of yours
which once started on the same table 3
of this empty cafè, with a steaming cup of coffee,
and struggled through the same long night,
to ultimately, dissolve in the very darkness;
my sweet luck,
always so melodramatic.
– H

To a long lost memory.

These lingering thoughts
consuming my inside,
the sruggle continues, bewildered,
the heart that is polluted and a mind –
ever so numb,
these mixed feelings that flash
as I keep on trying
to shut them up,
my soul feels exhausted
in this battle of denial & acceptance,
You know! As they say in stories,
‘to wish upon the shooting star’
ever since then,
I have been in a hope
that my love, no matter, so fragile
and lost; will heal.
The burnt bridges, the crumbled letters,
and all things cracked, the abstract
will let the light to come in,
For not all things torn
are meant to be gone.
So, let me wish,
upon the rays of every rising sun
and the new dawn;
that smiles may return,
the laughter may echo,
the love will reunite
and I,
I will start believing
in the beauty of the ordinary,
the split, the shattered, the hopelessly hopeful and all that is broken.
– H

Until next time.

So, it has been there for quite a while by now. I am having a lot on the stack and it is time to pause everything. Hence here it is; a little farewell to all the social activities, the multi tasking, the other engagements and comittments, socializing and above all, writing and this sphere. Time to focus and look upon the things that matter the most, to prioritize the priorities, to breath in deeply, to be determined and just concentrate on things that come above all. I have this thing; every now and then I need to isolate a little and get my tasks aligned, get a hang of life and be on track. Guess it is that time again, to take a break from the usual. And be back to the real grounds.

See you somewhere, sometime in 2016, if God wills.

Goodluck for everything you do. Sending love & positive vibes.

 

Here are the points I am having 2015 being ended with. Hoping the coming year proves to be the best in every regard. (I realized, I have started loving to do these “points” posts recently.. Writing so gives me a sense of clarity.)

 

1. Sometimes the only thing in your way is you (move).

 

2. You should know this by now: People will always surprise you. You are never the only one – ever. There is someone who feels the same as you (about anything, about everything), someone who will be there when you call at 2 am. People will surprise you – let them. Your best friend, the one you have known for years, believed in more than your ownself will disappoint you severely at one point, doubt you, question you – it will break your heart, shatter your courage, destroy your strength; it is okay, get a grip. People fuck up majorly. We have to be calm.

 

3. Sad truth: You will blink and the moment will be gone. So you can choose: document or be in (or both, but you’ve never been great at multitasking). Either way, don’t forget to live. Lol. There is always hope. It never goes, really.

 

4. Some days are harder than others; some weeks, some months. That’s just the way it is. But you will have family, and friends, and God, and kind strangers, and good books, and sunrises, and thunderstorms and green tea and Tennis – it will be hard, but you will be okay. The kind of okay that will not hurt.

 

5. Okay is enough. It will sometimes feel like you need to be doing more than okay, better than okay. But sometimes just okay is enough (sometimes it has to be). Leave nice, selfless comments on people’s social media posts; strangers and friends alike. It will make your heart warm and light, and I guarantee, no matter who they are, it will make their day.

 

6. Simple math: if you give everything and receive nothing you will be empty and exhausted. Use your words wisely. some people deserve paragraphs; essays, handwritten letters, poems in which the title bears only their name. But others, the ones who take and do not give, the ones that use and use and use, they barely deserve a sentence – do not waste your ink on them. Your daydreams are never reality. (There will be days when they come very close)

 

7. Change is inevitable. You can’t stop it, find a way to deal with it (dance in the dark, dance in broad daylight, cry until you have emptied your soul, scream your curses against the universe, sing about the lonely that is eating you from the inside out – SING. Make mixtapes full of songs that still mean something, write letters you actually send, close your eyes and pretend), do whatever you have to do. Deal with it. (Safely. Please be kind to yourself and stay safe).

 

8. Drink water. Oh man, drink so much water. Please stop feeding your body bullshit junk. Eat healthy. And workout. I mean, move a little. Don’t be  sitting idle in bed all day long dumping trash inside yourself.

 

9. Don’t be so afraid to love. You will get your heartbroken. That jerk will be indifferent about it and would not care. Cry. It is okay. Sulk about him. Write sad notes. Nurture yourself. Embrace your pain. But move on. Don’t be devastated. Collect your pieces. The one your soul is made for will come, maybe late, but he will.

10. Not everything is meant to be poetry. (Really)

 

11. Talk to people, don’t let regret pile up only to find out it was all a misunderstanding. Don’t allow close friends or mutual friends to come in. Step ahead. Resolve it yourself. Don’t rely on them to solve it. They really donot bother. They don’t give a shit. I can guarantee.

 

12. You have a voice, a beautiful voice. you have things to say, and you have the means to say them. Fear is overrated; you have a voice – use it.

 

13. You are alive. You are full of LOVE; you have in you the beauty that makes up sunrises, and sunsets, and mid-day shadows, and autumn leaves, and fields of wildflowers, and blurry pictures, and the emotion which will make him feel important only because he has you in life. You are alive, dear, you are a proof that empty can be full, that hopeless can be turned hopeful. All the light that a full moon exists to reflect is carried within you; you hold a world of possibilities. Breathe in and let the air shock your lungs; don’t ever forget, don’t ever forget – you are alive, and you are enough and you can tolerate beyond imagination, you are strong.

 

14. One evening you will sit along your old window, enjoying tea and you will reflect over all the things gone; you will look at some people and think, that is such a bad decision. Then you will look upon others and realize, that is better. The good ones are there to make you realize you can make mistakes in the form of bad ones and then learn from them; just be contended.

15. Your parents are really important people in your life. You spent most of your teenage years shutting them out, only to realize they were all you’ve ever had. Tell your parents you love them. When you feel like you are devastated and when everyone pushes you down; only your family stays. Your parents and your siblings, that is all.

 

16. If a person in your life is toxic, cut them out. Stop trying to message them. Stop trying to get their attention. Leave them be. One day they will see they lost a great friend, but you’re not going back. And you don’t have to feel bad about it. Learn to say a NO. Like, Hey! I am busy and I can not do the xyz task. (Simple)

 

17. Sometimes you lose control, and it’s okay. Just don’t stay in your aloof state of mind. Lie down. Take a nap. Come back to reality when you are ready, but please don’t be gone long.

 

18. Have your priorities aligned. Don’t be the person half an hour before a paper is due, frantically running around the library trying to finish. Plan ahead. Be ahead. Have stability.

 

19. Give it your all. Anything and everything. You’re young, and you don’t have time to waste. Love that boy or girl with all your heart. Text your best friend until she answers. Stay up late to finish your paper. Whatever you do in life, do it fully.

 

20. Leave nothing unfinished. Relationships. Assignments. Finish all of it.

 

21. Take a deep breath and expand your horizons. Get out of your comfort zone for a bit. Do not sit back and watch everyone participate in life because you are scared. Indulge in the world around you.

 

22. Be emotional. Have emotions. Feel. Feel everything. But don’t throw them around. Just be intact.

 

23. If you spend your entire summer eating fried food and ice cream, you will notice you’re a little heavier this winter than last. Do something about it. Drink 8 glasses of water, do your damn squats, and never stop trying.

 

24. Don’t forget your purpose. Just because you’ve graduated and moved on to other things, doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the things you used to. Don’t forget your passions, do not leave them behind. You will lose a part of yourself, and spend forever trying to get it back.

 

25. Don’t fry your hair every day with a hair iron. Don’t squeeze your thighs everyday in tight clothing. Don’t bother coating your eye lid in shiny powder everyday. It’s okay to throw your hair up and say “Fuck it.” No one is judging you like you used to believe. If he loves you for the way you look; leave it, this is not the right one.

 

26. Stop placing people in boxes. Stop judging them. Stop making assumptions. Be compassionate.

 

27. Don’t keep those old texts, pictures, screenshots and other things that continue on taking you back to square one. Stop thinking about him in every moment and stop relating every damn thing to him, later on stalking him secretly and then sulking for hours as in how it didn’t work between you two. There is no peace in torturing yourself.

 

28. Don’t be readily available for everyone. Some people deserve your immediate response, others don’t. Learn to be less available for people.

 

29. Just forgive them. Don’t forget. But forgive that damned person, free yourself from the burden, brush it away; move on. (Yes, don’t forget.)

 

30. A lot changed in one year, and that’s okay. It’s okay things are different. Nothing ever stays the same. When you enter in the new year take a deep breath and know that you will be alright. There is nothing to fear, look at how far you’ve come.

There will be many times when you will feel that medical school is killing you (I feel so too, we all do); dust away that feel, have your motivation and keep moving because it is worth it.

Goodbye.

The cure

00:00

 

But let’s pretend

that it never ended,

like it did.

And it still thrives

with the same vibrance

just as we saw it once.

 

For if not supposed so,

you will continue burning

in the ashes of your torn ego.

And I will just dangle in

the misery of my broken heart.

 

And the two of us will keep wondering, which one hurts the most?

Your split soul or my lost love.

 

For there is nothing as such

like “the bigger grief, the greater hurt”

as the two of us, suffered just equally.

 

And maybe one day, we will settle for the fact that

it was no one’s fault; neither yours nor mine but rather,

We will free ourselves of this burden by blaming it on life and its painful ways.

 

Just breath,

our hearts still beat and our souls are alive

we will heal, in our own separate worlds.

 

 

The little joy.

What started off with short writing passages at the age of 7 or 8, many years back in school times has become somewhat of a profession by now. I never knew it will go this grand. It has been a long journey, indeed. From writing simple 4-5 lines to writing speeches & then columns, reviews, articles, poetry, stories, essays, dialogues and in almost every genre; writing has become my passion, an identity, a source of getting clarity, a way to mature and improve, to have inner growth, something I love to do.

What makes it so special is self-learning! I was that kid who would have poor grammar skills among all in junior classes. But I improved over the span and now, it is my strength. All of it did not happen suddenly. It involves years of practice, constant learning, attending so many events, contests, seminars, competitions, workshops and almost everything that had something related to literature has grabbed my interest. From many online forums, to magazines, websites, journals, press media and freelancing, Urdu and English; it is safe to say that I tasted every aspect in this journey of 3 years on WordPress, 1 year of wordpad blogging and almost 14 years of knitting words and writing in journal. There has not been any point where I did not try to do better. From extensive reading to online sessions, daily newspaper dose to learning by reading other fellow writers and iconic authors and just by seeing how they do it all; it has been a constant one-single person struggle. The highlight of it is that mostly I have been mistaken for being a literature student where my main domain is medicine. (Yes, another medical student, lol)

Although, no one in my family has any inclination towards literature but what humbles and satisfies me the most is that they have always encouraged me. It was my mom who used to help me with my essays and speeches when I was at the primary level. My dad, who always discussed Faiz, Iqbal, Maryam Gillani and Ashfaq Ahmed with me. My sister who has been my consistent support. My truest motivator. Who has listened to my speeches while practice, read my blogs, poetry and articles even though she does not keep any interest in reading to that maximum level. My brother who still believes that I am good at it. This blog is the courtesy of my dearest friend, my mentor, someone who has been my strongest source of motivation; my sweetheart, Zunaira Afzal. She is a brilliant writer. Check her blog here (https://zunairaafzal.wordpress.com/). It was her who pushed me to join this medium and compile all my work.

I will forever be in debt to my school teachers who saw the spark and ignited it further rather than killing it and made me what I am today. My friends who always took pride in what I write and supported me at every stage (still do it). Particularly, my friend since Fsc times, Zarlish Rehman, whose appreciation encouraged me that even though I have written Urdu all my life, I can write English and excel at it. And every person who inspired me, liked what I wrote, connected to me via words, acknowledged the impact I gave away and always uplifted my spirits.

Though, there has been many moments I wanted to put this site down and there has been many points where I felt I write pathetically, this sphere, no doubt, has been my most favorite. It has given me some very good friends and made me read and learn from very talented writers.

Even though I might not be overly promoting my work and this medium like others, I am not very vocal about my writings I still hold this space close to my heart and I continue to be here for many years of learning and improvement.

Happy birthday, my tiny blog, you have my heart!

 

 

Love,

Hira.