Harud

Picture Courtesy: facebook.com/Kashmir.pictures
http://static.ibnlive.in.com/ibnlive/pix/ibnhome/fallindiart10.jpg

I was supposed to be coerced into liking Autumn before Winter, followed by Spring and then, ugh - Summer - neither of us liked the latter. You disappeared before sharing Autumn with me. Now every picture of Autumn everywhere I will see, will burn me like your Chinar trees in Harud.

Fighting the hole

As I spread my hands before me, with Your many names upon my lips fervently hung over Your attributes of Forgiveness, Giving, Listening, Answering, Knowing, Seeing, Hearing, All Ableness, and so much more... I fixate on the spot that looks like a hole. I see around that hole blessings abound; so many that I cannot count them one by one in thanks... but, I thank You for each and every one of them as only You would Know Best and hopefully Accept. But, the eyes... these woefully-possessed-as-if-uncontrollable-eyes keep getting drawn back to that one speck, which is not a mole, and keep looking at it as a black hole. It seems to have a fluctuating depth of hollow never-endingness or perhaps just a slight bend on the road of many gifts, depends on which state of peace the heart is in. As the soul fervently focuses on thanks and gratitude and humility, the eyes are perturbed by whispers of the devil... the nafs... the humanness? Which, I'll never know. But as the focus comes upon it, in all it's ebbs and flows, all it keeps looking at is that one blessing I could not get to hold on to. It came into my life plenty of times, but only to tempt me, make me weak, ungrateful, and so frustrated... because I could not hold on to it. It keeps piercing into the abyss trying to pull itself out of it, and in the struggle of the jump and the pull, it tires itself of the screams that are it's own recriminations. It slumps into the wet mess of it's own tears and continues thanking The All Knowing Able One Who has Made me who I am, to live the tests that have been written down for me, and hope not to fail, and hope to keep surfacing back up with thanks... For if the gratitude were to be lost, so would all hope of sanity and a blessed Eternity. Ya Ar Rahman Ar Raheem, Ya Ghafoor Ar Kareem - please Hold me as I feel like I am drowning... If You Save me not, I will drown myself in my tears. Please Hush my hankerings and Take me away from my human needs and wants that will suffocate me without Your Intervention. My salvation lies only in Your Holding me and Sufficing me. I plead You to Hold me and Suffice me. Ameen, Ya Dhall Jalaali Wal Ikram.




*Written to Sange Saboor playing out in the background. My Lord being my only Pillar of Patience whereupon I stop to cry.

Demons of Their Past

All it took was a picture of you in baby blue and white.

It pierced through the cemented walls
The grave I thought was permanent, shattered open.
Rose back out Alexander the great,
Arousing the hairs on the back of everything alive
To stand up and scream
To brace themselves and shriek in agony
From unwelcome memories.
Go back to sleep please.
Go to Italy, Go back to Germany,
San Francisco, Brazil, Goa, Juhu,
Go where ever it is that love embraces you
And wear that ring proud
It shines so bright
As did the prospect of you and I once
But that was an embryo that was miscarried long ago.
The placenta has been laid down to rest
So now please let the lens of the other
Shoot you in your glamour in privacy
There is no room for this view I have of you
in my suggested feed, on the right, under a post,
or an invite of an add request from another brother.
Go away; I know you never wanted to
I pushed the doors closed and I left you screaming in the dark
But that darkness was all enveloping
And it was a salve that needed to be applied
The scrapes were blistering and the wound was deepening
The pain would never go away so the pill had to be gulped
And years later it seems the effects have begun wearing thing
So I turn to an empty page and scream into this empty night
And tell the song ringing in the background to truly fade away
For Where you are now is of no use to me.
The monsters only know how to run wild
And the torment of years ago needs to rest.
Crushing what was real and breathing
For I am not prepared to have to do it again.
I can’t. You can’t. We can’t.
It was never meant to be
So please take your baby blue and white
And leave my breath alone.
I need to let it all be faded.
No shadows. No etchings. Nothing.
The water will always haunt me
But that is also truly where I find
Some semblance of a salvation.
Ya Allah – You are The Effacer.
Please Cleanse me and Hold Me.
For you I walked away and I desperately
need You to Efface me and Love me!
Ameen.

You, Whom I Used To Know...

What is the meaning of this, ''Here today... Gone tomorrow...''

Why are you set on repeat? Teaching a new story each time,

Lessons replete; some unpalatable, some in retrospect meant to be a treat,

What is the meaning of this, ''A part of me, you - yet later - no more?''

Why are you transient; with your lessons of stubborn impermanence!

Oh, the new you's, the old few's - the heart, perplexedly, doth wonder...

* Dedicated to friendships... The song, 'cos the chorus sat well with the sentiment - the rest, enjoyable nevertheless too :D

Left Behind to Stand the Test of Time

When did I get left behind
Standing tall through these winds of time
Watching with a smile as two hearts met
And on their journeys they got swept
With every day and its passing time
Fewer remained and thinned out stood your line
Those you could speak to and whom you'd understand
Remained far from plenty
And only you in your heart bore the knowing of lonely times...

But give up shall not I
Until this heart heaves, I must not cry
For a plan resolute was made by The All Knowing
And in His Knowledge my trust I should be showing
  As in His Decree is all good unseen
And only patience bequeathes its release
So in its wait with lips hushed from trembling
This heart shall sit in rest, to the self murmuring
Until time reveals what for me He has inscribed in stone as this world's Life...

InshaAllah, Ameen~

Flustered & Numbed?

Tick-Tock of the memory clock raises the little fine hair at the back of her neck. This anxiety has the power to cripple her and what remains of her senses off late, but she manages to abate it all chanting to the words that she holds on to really tight, lest even they desert her.

No, please God, no! I mustn't let the devil whisper into my ears again! Many a times he has left me stranded, feeling a fool for having fallen for his treachery, but not again please! I beseech Ye, my All and Everything! Please save me from my own musings, for a deep ache has taken hold of everything and just about anything that exists in my now.

Recriminations I want not to linger with, Anger I want not to feel, Frustrations I want not to battle - Oh Dear Magnificent and Most Merciful One - please take me under your Shade and make it all feel better?

~Ameen.

And with a giant heave, she silences herself for as long as this while will exist...

Charades of the Work Force

Ostentatious

the behavior of humans

Depressingly sad

how deep corruption seethes

Volatile

their vicious ammunition

Discord abound

it breeds into creeds

Blasphemous

their promises of things being fair

Malicious disparity

is all they amongst colleagues fruitlessly bear

Disgusting

how matters stand from this vantage point

And Allah swt Always Knows Best.

Resilience Through A Reminisce?

Rihanna:
 

The things we do for attention
For a little moment in which to be noticed
All for what?
A test after test after test after test...
This too shall pass
It all has to date
You too shall become a memory
Hopefully to fade faster
Now that time has given us
Ample practice to weather such storms and breezes
Or just a slight draft even
Frail no more shall we be!
Force ourselves to be sturdy
Brush our shoulders we shall
No pain shall we let through
Resilience is the love that shall be ours to stay
Hope is our companion through pebbles such
That are strewn haphazardly along our every way
Let our head hang low we wont - Nay!
Our heart shall not dwell in dismay
What length and width giveth our silly moments and time
To something so trivial!
  A mountain of age old molehill
Boredom perhaps has tilled?
Who knows whether potential it had
Or was simply imagined
Another day, another plan
Time shall surely unravel
And in its wait our patience shall be the guide
Assuring that no disdain or angst
In our life shall stay too long to tar or mar
Our faith in all those whom we wish to remain by our side
In times of reminisce when we sit back tomorrow...

...inshaAllah, Ameen!

Delicately Plotted Lies

To have the ground pulled out from beneath your feet... To have been lied to...
When you felt that all in your world was right, 'cos in that one soul you entrusted all of your strife,
And for that one soul - you nearly gave away your still young and naive (or so now it seems) life,
Only to find that everything he'd said, shared, and put in visible sight,
Had been nothing but distorted, preplanned cards of his lies, and a non existent semi-life.
How much of what he'd said, had morsels of truth in it?
How much of what you thought were his kids, his feuds - really true?
From the looks of it, your heart in vain, in that time had sat down to pine.
From your findings post hankerings today - all of it had been vines and vines and just more vines,
Full of contorted lies, lies, and some more lies - that he'd been using to fill up with images devised just for your eyes,
And all this, his time and moment today, were at peace with despite crossing ethical ties...
While on a chance or fluke, let's call it, you fell upon a link today - leaving your suspicions aghast,
Stared on you did, at what was printed in fine ink - your eyes from behind a layer of un-shed dew,
Saw it all - Alas! What you had been lovingly fed; a meticulously prepared broth of deceitful stew!
She was proof of his loins, no more did I wish to find out any more...
Was my reality back then fabricated, a partial convenience, or who knows in how many parts true?
No more him or of him did I want my mind to think, or my heart care - No, damn sure no more!
All thoughts of him, as they used to stand and did too, until today,
Dear Mind, you must please eliminate them from the core of your all,
Their disgrace and everything that in it's lieu, has in your life happened, 
From this moment on, must be made to decease; no more be thought of, or in any way thus spewed.

A Wily Facade

Cascades of generousness

flow through cluttered veins

Choking - Staggering - Cackling

Why the intertwining dissections

Why the camouflaged perceptions

Haste makes waste

Undefined tastes

Never lasting promises

Chastised praise

All but a deep burgeoning facade

To & Fro; Lo, Again We Go!

Constriction;
in your own mind
torrid friction

Concoction
of your own views
blatant affliction

Contention
of do's and don'ts
obsolete dictations

Correction
of your inner woes
bland distractions

Convention
of a norm outdated
beyond satisfaction

Exhaustion;
in your own mind
tossed reactions

The Fear of Death/Acceptance of Life

Crossing over

such a cleaver to the head?

It's just a moment

When your breath comes to a final end...

... only to live on for sure.

Perhaps our real fear and worry

should lie in making haste

towards deeds that would allow us

to reach that aspired for shore!

... inshaAllah, Ameen!

Unlabelled Diagnosis

Uncertainty...

No clarity...
I wonder what people see...

A mystery?
Disparity?
This confusion's testing 

To begin with, questionable sanity.

Uninspired

This was not her call

She was not enthralled

Opaque windows, tinted bygones

On a road yonder

A wanderer in her heart she found

Barricades risen like blooming hail

Wishy -washy thoughts amidst them sail

Amidst the cries that laugh and hurl

Words hollow, blows unfurled

Tinsel town with intricate shadows

Names like tags on pages followed

This was not her call

She was not enthralled

Even on fingers they lasted not;

Numbers few, remained through life's cast

Asunder

She needs to walk out of the door. Not look back or try to compromise with her thoughts. Where they lie in their present state becomes apparent when she hears that in her sleep she cried and tried to beg for something that only made her cry some more. What could be plaguing her mind; perhaps a deeply rooted, recently molested rudely awoken state of duress? The pains she imagines, and consistently gets told that she does nothing but imagine them, live inside her body - surely they exist. Perhaps time in its mystical way will unfold what is to be. It will unfold what is to be! Perhaps is just my denial. It stems from the untapped fear of it all being too late, by the time reality comes to terms with it all. Maybe's and What-if's together comprise the main ingredient that concocts and brews this dilemma into a froth of mayhem inside her fabric of being leaving it thoroughly wrought, plundered; asunder.

Unimportant Fool

One feels stifled and wonders untiringly so, over the ache that comes from not knowing where to belong; who to belong to. There remains only One constant through all the dries, through all the cries, there remains only One constant one can turn to and cry their angst to. There seems to be no place to call home, there seems to be no person who knows you. In fact, they seem to work like the mechanics of a clock, where in some parts work in desperate compliance while the single or more who dare to defy work under constant emotional abuse to end up in a heaped corner comprised of a wretched mix of perpetual defiance and miserable compliance for the sake of survival. Where does one go when there is a lack of means to get to anywhere but here? What does one do when there is only a lack of possibilities doable that exist? Who does one turn to when there is not a single soul that hears it without derision or insult instead of with patience or even a morsel of respect that it aches to be accorded. How does one fit in a slot when while trying to do so there are constant pins pricking it, drills drilling it, hammers hammering it, and voices vacillating it? What ever cords one manages to nourish, the fatigue amassed from such intense repeats manages to derail and disappoint. Useless, Worthless, Unimportant; one is left to feel. Finding that place and people to belong to exists as a wasted dream. Finding peace in a life away from this world's is all that seems important; is all that one aches for in one's now, inshaAllah...
Ameen!

Impostors

Impostors we are, gliding past shadows our own, convincing ourselves of being someone else. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder; conflicting thoughts incessantly manifest from this golden adage. In reality we judge ourselves more times than another could, while those of us that really need to, remain cast inside the immunity of our denial. Simple beings exist in a minority, at least from being obvious they do actively refrain. Complexity is the new it. It draws attention, it demands to make a stand, it dares to contradict. In the differences of opinion do we exist as humans, while in arguing the differences we highlight our flaws. Complacence in all can only be aspired for; beauty, peace, and all that exists between right or wrong.

© Hayaah

A Breakaway?

BREAKAWAY Lyrics - KELLY CLARKSON

When they're twenty, they dream of dreams, they make plans. They take steps towards them, failing at some, nearing some, achieving some. Yet some, remain struggling and hoping on for some ten odd years or so, standing in a place feeling oh so familiar. Another starting point? Wasn't this where we'd been at when we began dreaming of dreams? Why was it that we seemed to have missed the train when we were at the very same station alongside others who made it? Would my present ails be acceptable had they come 10 years after having been coined with a Mrs before my name? Would they have been more acceptable if they had come after having birthed a few little ones? Would my lack of success at something, anything really, been more acceptable had I an excuse of having put my family's needs before mine? But what if I did? What if I did put my family's wishes before mine? What if I had a lack of support, while not even realizing how short on time I was, in order to set off and achieve my dreams? What if my falls were fewer than my medals? What if my medals were made of love that survived the test of time? What if my tears had been more happy than distraught? What if my emptiness had been full? My guess is, that I would be surmising over something that nevertheless remained not. That I would still be questioning what hadn't been, over looking all that had been. I would still be human and wanting, wishing and jaunting over untapped dreams. I would be unappeased, with most things displeased, pining for anything-everything that sadly remained unfulfilled or shot. Now I am thirty. I think I still dream of dreams, but the difference is that I work very hard at stifling their existence instead of embracing them. I fear that if I accept that I have dreams still, I will lay myself open to pain from them remaining just that, dreams not actualized. I have myself pretty much convinced that I am to be different; that I am to be of those who will not reach where they wish to reach, but remain lost amongst masses of normalcy. That I will remain struggling to find footing, in the while trying to convince those who mean something to me, that I am worthy. And while on this battle amidst my people and people otherwise, I struggle to unmask myself to the self. Unconsciously perhaps, I shall keep dreaming of breaking away from all that has become me in order to dream of dreams and make at least one come true, in a tomorrow that may be exists. A breakaway?

Life Quite Suspect

The build ups
The chasms
The piercing aches
From chaffs; poignant sarcasm

The break downs
The spasms
The silent wracking
From screams; loud sirens

The catharsis
The imagined
The fortitude sought
From horrors; land barren

Saturated Compliance...

My side of the story...
 

Saturated Compliance
To your Deceitful Alliance
Thank you for the Opportunity
But our Gratitude to you was just a Commodity
Two-facedly out of your way you did go
To blatantly placate and assure us with your ''prowess''
The honesty of Employees you flippantly Frayed
Complying by your incessant rules we quietly obeyed
But like a silent ruse, a goodbye we still feared
On standby we wait, our reins in your hands until you tire
And tomorrow inform us thus, of your plan earlier conspired
That us and our services ''sadly'', by you are no longer required