Time and time again,
concocts her sweet sounding scent,
this illusive brain.
Time and time again,
concocts her sweet sounding scent,
this illusive brain.
We know that I keep myself – and my private life – isolated from my blog posts over here, but I’m just gonna turn slightly carefree of that for a while.
Alright so, getting on, like I had previously established Avantika, I was totally taken back by this award nominee from you. This act of nomination might seem like a casual one to you but holds much prestige in my eyes, so thank you so much; that really comes from the core of my heart.
Getting appreciation and a bit of recognition for our works is both a dessert and a catalyst for us humans, I believe. And yes, let me say the cliched (but true) lines as well: Never had I – since the time of initiating this blog – imagined that I would get to see this day where I’d be receiving such awards and the frequent, heartwarming compliments from this wonderful blogging community. Have to follow certain rules for it though. The rules for Mystery Blogger award:
Display Award Logo On BlogList
The Rule Mention Creator Of Award & Provide A Link
Thank The Blogger(s) Who Nominated You & Provide A Link
Say 3 Things About Yourself
Nominate From 10 To 20 Bloggers
Notify Nominated Bloggers By Leaving A Comment On Their Blog
Answer 5 Questions From Nominee
Write 5 Questions For Your Nominees
Share Your Best Post
(3) Have already done that, www.smilyavu.wordpress.com.
(4) Three things about myself (brace yourselves for having me take advantage over the vagueness of this rule).
1- I’m chewing an eviscerated piece of bubblegum while I write this down at 3 in the morning (*smirks*).
2- (Alright, let’s get a bit serious) I’m working two part-time jobs while studying simultaneously as of now (Alhamdulillah).
3- Covert, skittish, flippant -> ME. Oh, and a wicked, unruly sense of humor do I possess.
(5) Here are the bloggers that I’m nominating:
–www.thegeekgirlsforum.wordpress.com: Although we have not really interacted, I have an adoration with her way of writing; would really like to know her more as well. She’s someone whom I genuinely feel should be read more.
–www.seharimtiaz.wordpress.com: This person, gosh! She’s a mind-boggingly crafty writer of Urdu, and her works… I could do no justice by saying anything about them. Read it for yourself (if you can read Urdu) and you’ll see what I’m talking about. She’s someone whom I feel should be read more also.
–www.arminhas.com: I’d be honest and say that this person’s blog has been quirky and controversial one for me. Though, the way it blends oddly dark art with writing, it strangely mystifies. One with an open mind might wanna give it a go.
–www.blogellabyujwordpresscom.wordpress.com: What to say about Uswa. She is an old schoolmate of mine and someone who’s been in touch lately. Is an admirable person really, and apparently the only one who could, for me, make girls’ fashion and cosmetics stuff an intriguing content to follow and read!
–www.thecrimsonquillofmine.wordpress.com: My Piscean brother and a dear friend Moiz, who has a surreal mind and a rather surreal hold over words. His writings usually tend to emanate that dreamy feel and you’d wanna drown into it. Just… work on your occasional errors, Moiz.
–www.verbalseductionananya.wordpress.com: Ananya’s blog is what it promises in its captivating blog name; a verbal seduction. She’s another whom I’d fancy knowing more.
–www.theycallmemaham.wordpress.com: Maham, another old schoolmate of mine. She has an enchanting way with words. Her ideas, her thoughts, her views, are commendable. She actually could be listed down in the ‘reasons why I wanted to start my own blog’. Literally, Maham.
–www.fromchaostocatharsis.wordpress.com: Ah, last but never the least (the most, rather), here’s Miss Zainab; my inspiration, my motivation since as long as I could remember. I know that I can come up with a date if I really focus, but I really don’t want to, because entertaining the thought that she’s been there since the start gives joy. Z, you’re a mentor, really – one of the reasons I stand over here with a blog to my name (however mediocre). Her works are chilling, I mean it. She is probably the best writer I have interacted with all my life and we both know that she has won a ton of awards (both virtually and practically) I still am nominating her. People should really remember Zainab Syeda Halepota’s name because one day, Inshallah, she’ll be out there as a star writer (her blog’s currently gone private).
We are standing there
from where, news of our own self
does not to us come.
… Dying in desire
for death. Death keeps appearing,
alas, does not come.
With what face will you
be reaching Lord’s house? Shame till
you yet does not come.
ہم وہاں ہیں جہاں سے ہم کو بھی
کچھ ہماری خبر نہیں آتی
مرتے ہیں آرزو میں مرنے کی
موت آتی ہے پر نہیں آتی
کعبہ کس منہ سے جاؤ گے غالبؔ
.شرم تم کو مگر نہیں آتی
Made a little haiku poem out of last 3 stanzas of Mirza Ghalib’s legendary ode – which coincidentally – terrifically – reflects my current state of devastation.
Pages like dried leaves; Forget-me-nots in-between.
You might as well grab me by the neck and shove me against the wall for all I care. I’d slam but the only protest you’d hear would be the dhuk sound from the wall. That’s it. I can’t help it when my legs would stop carrying me forward like this – when I’d be lost in some heavy daze. You’d bump and stare eerily at me. You’d nastily roar at me.
Satisfied? Took it all out? Would you now move on?
…Because my mouth won’t be freeing any hostages. No lies trembling out of these starkly painted lips. No false apology. My form says enough. Too smoky, my eyes, shielded with a lack of focus. Foreigners; all of your voices, drained out, I swear. And I’m so aware that they are.
So. Fucking. Aware.
This me would be a symbolism of disintegration, of disinterest; the contradiction of enthusiasm. I’d walk not – my legs’d take me. I’d eat not – this mechanical mouth’d tear, chew, swallow for me. There is a country-wide gap between what I’d be feeling and what I’d be expressing.
Hollowed am I. Not a gutted fish, an eviscerated fish. I wonder if fishing might just turn out to be exactly my thing? The empty hours of stretched stillness. Then the sudden jerks.
Just my thing.
In the finishing of my reports, attending of my calls, submitting of my works, there would be a robotic monotony; my voice, a distant cavity (during my day job). Still, my real one at least. And nobody makes me laugh; nobody can make me laugh.
These glorious sunsets and I would have tedious staring contests. They’d depart first, hence they’d blink first, hence they’d lose (I can sit unblinkingly for millennia. Seriously), though sometimes I’d wish they don’t…
Sometimes I’d wish the sun never goes down.
(But when it does…) And when it does… when this crossing of my life is trampled over… something is sunk behind… and something entirely else is afloat on the surface.
See, I can scan past all these morphing faces, these lifted masks, these sick realities (and this time I’m actually interested in all of them) – eyeing me as if one flashy look is enough to read me wholly. No fam no. It works the other way around.
It is at night when you wolves come flowing out, showing your true thirst; howling wildly. And oh how much I love letting you seek pleasure in the illusion of decrypting the enigmatic ‘me’. The illusion of you using ‘me’. You’re the one above, no? No. Way down below in reality. Look at your eyes. I spot a hundred grammatical errors in them…
Whatever your nightly hedonistic labels would be for me, your mornings would have more or less the same. To put it in one word; “Meretricious”. Aww, poor you. You thought you’d have the last laugh, no? See how the filth of your forms is now moving into your tongues? your vocabulary, growing trashier like a sewer. Is this the part where you throw me out of your house? No? Uh oh, I’m laughing now. A desolate, sardonic, broken laugh because you’re a joke (what? I never said nothing can make me laugh).
Aha! So this is the part where you throw me out of your house…