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.

The Interim Betwixt; Real or a Lie?

Were you a capricious whim, a fallacy?
Were you an embodiment of my wants and your wants?
Of your comings and goings should I not question your verity?
The chasms of my experience with such emotional feed
is a gaping proof of error of judgements borne of deprived needs.
Time is proof, Time is a salve, Time is testing,
Every second, every minute, every hour.
May the constant questioning of my own sanity
versus a beautiful patience and a belief in all things good,
Yet again, come and sing it's soothing rhyme
allowing the chants and motions to do a slow dance,
and let the heart beat in peace,
always at the behest of it's Maker Infinite.

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 mean well?

Usually you have a question for me, to which I have no answer. You seem persistent to find out, and you won’t stop asking. I ask you- what is this need, so throbbing, that it won’t let you let it go? Do you really have any practical advice, solutions, or suggestions? Do you really think that what you’re going to say has never been said to me before? Or that I may not have already tried that, or thought of that? What makes me come across so wrong, that your right is what I seem to be needing, to fix up my very 'appearingly so'  messed up now?

Grief

It’s one of those things that every human goes through in their own way; each moment - deep, surrounded by the sorrow of memories that flood you. There are those who speak their heart out, face the people concerned, and talk about it, ask about it. There are those who silently pray from afar, transfixed in the news of their loss, unable to physically do anything to help. There are those, who try facing the people, do little to help in matters on hand because someone else already seems to be handling it, and so they stay on the sidelines, struggling to find the right words, wishing not to add to the burden by asking too much and making the people repeat the stories of their pain, of how it happened, what’s happening now, etc. praying from a distance, ever ready to do anything asked if need be. But what remains a constant in each situation of people, is the pain. Whether someone was close, or family, or a friend, or an acquaintance… everyone’s pain IS pain. Perhaps the different ways of expressing it (or the lack of ability to express it at all) may not be agreed upon by everyone culturally, religiously… but the expression and reaction is ultimately for God to know… for our duas and supplications are sent out to him. Those who are able to, will get their feelings across to the families in some way shape or form… but it won’t be until many more weeks from the time of when it all happened, that they might remember and actually respond to your having been there at the time… Regardless of the myriads


Suffer in silence… withdrawn into a quiet stupor.
Suffer in silence… morbid thoughts of a moment over.
Suffer in silence… vulgar words in memory spoken.
Suffer in silence… people many yet people absent.
Suffer in silence… incensed thoughts emotions awaken.
Suffer in silence… until tomorrows glimpse of a new horizon

The Problem...

The problem with most of us as we grow older, is that we truly believe we are the ones who will change a person whom others have failed to change. We believe this deep in our hearts, and firmly resolve to get to it; changing the person/people. This can be seen in a picture where the woman believes ‘she’ will be the one to change the man (who all this while has refused to budge in his ways, many before her have similarly tried, lost, and walked out of the picture). The same goes for children with their parents. What’s even more striking is that when I personally think about this latter situation - I remember going through all the hopes and aspirations of bringing about a change in my house, its people - which my siblings (a decade and more my junior), now aspire to do so too. Perhaps my intentions came later, age wise, than do theirs – but the fact remains that I have tread the path that they are on, but sadly they will refuse to learn through my experiences because they insist on travelling the roads themselves. This is sad because most of us will insist on travelling the road ourselves, no matter the amount of advice that exists out there to help steer us away from expected failure.

I’ve noticed the pattern. I was once that age too. I believed in things being a certain way. I believed in home being a certain way, parents being a certain way, but then… life happened. How?

I tried.

I failed.

I tried again.

I failed again…

And this went on for some time, until some years into this repetitive dysfunctional twist, a mist of sorts began to clear. I realized, after all these trials and errors, that home was where the heart was… I realized that it wasn’t just an adage, but reality. It was simply inexplicable – it had to be tried. I resented the place I wanted to change, I resented the people who refused to change (in their ways, their mindsets) stubbornly unrelenting – and so I imagined a home elsewhere.

Where?

Away from here is all I knew then. But every time I ventured into an ‘away’, I was sorely lost, and wishing to return home. To the very place where the heart would not be at rest.

I guess that is the problem. The heart. It is fickle and easily swerved. It is quite easily tempered by the whims and fancies that the Shaytan and the Shaya’ateen scatter around it. It latches on quite easily, not letting go unless really worked upon from the inside. But for us to be successful in warding it off from the inside, we have to remain firm in our belief that all that is happening is just as it was meant to be, and in it being so, there is good. I must let go of everything else and just try and seek that good; attempt to understand it, and accept it whole heartedly. And despite finding ourselves having found that belief, we remain susceptible to losing it every now and then. We cave in to the misery that wishes to surface, and bemoan our current stand point; forgetting that this very now is where we are supposed to be, meant to be standing in. It is how we find a way out of it, without the resentment, that remains a Herculian task that has not yet been mastered. And so we find ourselves setting off to try and change those around us, in hopes of finding solace and peace with their change. But the solace and peace, in my opinion now, does not come from a change in those around us. I think it comes from changing our own perspective on things, and by being in control of how we respond to the unrelenting forces around us. And through it all, we need to be stronger and firmer in our faith. Insha’Allah, things will fall into place and He shall say Be; and it shall.

~ May He (swt) make this journey easy for us all, may He provide us with the right companion (as He did to Moses (AS)), may He keep us staunch in our faith always, may He forever guide us, show us the Light, keep us under His shade, forgive us our blights, slights, and pick us up to take us through all our falls, rendering us to be ever stronger, ever firmer in our path to Him and His Promises… 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

The Holy Quran Or Just Parts Of It?

The verses below have been inspired by the point that Ustadh Nouman Ali Khan makes at 20:26 in his lecture called, One And Why [part 3/4], while he speaks of the problems that exist in our faith today. He is trying to make us ask ourselves whether we are supposed to serve Allah (swt), or is His Book supposed to serve us? An excerpt from his lecture:

''When gratitude dies, faith goes with it. When the sense of gratitude dies, faith goes with it. The indulgence that we've created for ourselves is killing our sense of gratitude... and when it's killing our sense of gratitude, there is no doubt, there is no surprise that we are having a crisis of faith... that we are having a hard time believing.''

Seldom, if at all, have you picked it up for it's message,
Selectively as you pick and choose to make a routine of it,
Innate goodness it bears, thus that you will reap good from it as you recite,
But what of it's very purpose, the message that remains untouched?
Dusty and clumpy become the leaves un-turned,
Longing for you to let them air out and share with you their beauty,
But focused too selfishly are you, to only reap rewards that your dunya demands today,
Forgotten is the promised good that lies buried in this historic revelation,
To understand it, as it guides you to your every day life; you remain oblivious,
You wish only to pick and choose when the needs of duniya beckon,
Based on mystic reasons that have gone six feet under, with those who first shared them,
For The Book itself beseeches to be read and lived by in full,
It asks of you to make time to understand what it holds with in it,
It's message designed to work for you; yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
Look with in and find your purpose now, before your breath tomorrow slackens,
And your dunyas' promises suddenly become weak in comparison to the real abode,
An abode which those who've awakened, have begun pining and working towards,
Firmly set are their Eyes on the Prize - as Shahraiz Tabassam puts it, 
Based on the verses of Surah Ya-sin:
*''It will be no more than a single Blast, 
when lo! they will all be brought up before Us! 
Then, on that Day, not a soul will be wronged in the least, 
and ye shall but be repaid the meeds of your past Deeds. 
Verily the Companions of the Garden shall that Day have joy in all that they do; 
They and their associates will be in groves of (cool) shade, 
reclining on Thrones (of dignity); 
(Every) fruit (enjoyment) will be there for them; 
they shall have whatever they call for;
"Peace!" - a word (of salutation) from a Lord Most Merciful!''*
And so, those awakened from the stupor of this duniya have thus begun pining, 
Aspiring to one day stand before Him; The All Knowing, The All Magnificent, 
Trying to rush with their eyes transfixed on that prize,
To repent all and purify themselves; ready and deserving of His promised shared Grace.

Khair Insha'Allah - May we all find ourselves; read and understand the message of our Maker through His Beautiful Book, the Holy Quran. May we not pick it up only to read selective verses from it for our worldly gains. Rather, may we try to read it cover to cover, abide by the life that it speaks of, and become the deserving people that it promises Jannah Al Firdaws to; Ameen.

* Chapter 36, Verses 53-58; The Holy Quran

Why Do We Jump To Act God?

I am not a leader, so I cannot imagine what it is like to be one. Having said that, I am a Muslim who believes in The One Lord; Most Merciful, Most Forgiving. If I expect of Him to have mercy on me, forgive me, then as a follower I sure feel obliged to at least practice that which I ardently hope to in the end myself receive. At the end of all discourse, Allah swt remains Knowing Best... SubhaanAllah.

As Good As Gone?

The Weepies - Same Changes


Today I am sad over something I never had. I hate you PMS, go away because you don't even let me pray and you always lead me astray. I really don't like you. It's always lonely here with you. I don't want the company of your tears. I want peace back in my heart. These last few weeks have been beautiful and I want that peace back please. Please...

How my...

Greg Laswell



How my thoughts they spin me 'round... How my dreams they spin me 'round... How my love it spins me 'round... And how they all, one by one, let me down... How this world still goes round and round... And here I think of a 'you' somewhere, towards me one day bound... How that 'one' day 'we' will finally be together found? In such hopes I listen to this song on repeat, on and on... How my thoughts they spin me 'round...

She Got Left Behind?

When did it happen
This; that she got left behind,
The race for some time now
had already started,
And she had most certainly
Never gotten out of the line...

Alas...

Destiny had it's own plans;
Recorded on its tablet of time
She was meant to be here
Weathering storms or whatever
Life was life; morose not for long
Being thankful was the real test of time.

Overwhelmed?

Another wave we must ride

Paddle on to get by

Whatever ripples or gusts galore

Patiently override them

We must; you, just as must I

Many glories come and gone

Singing merrily to their songs

Faces shining with their smiles

Pictures telling of all hues turned into mires

Hurdles girdled into puddles swished

Fancy mapping of things misunderstood

Lacy trimmings to all hideous pies

Making all things distasteful

To position themselves until: Ready - Aim - Fire!

Hit asunder thus, all calm; gone

A memory simply remaining agong

Of bliss smuggled away from them

And to a wayfarer thoughtlessly sold

Thence off on a journey, spent are we

Listlessly surfacing jarring waves

Relentlessly remembering

All our stories that got buried untold...

To Be Awakened Again...

These faint murmurs whispering, deep inside somewhere, leave the vista blank. Discharged batteries is what the self seems to be running on, refusing to spark up a sputter more. Coughing up a semblance of courage to hope on untrod grounds is becoming a little too tasking as the days pile on by wearily; weary is left the heart, as weary is left the body in all's wake. The mind refuses to entirely cave in just yet.  

What is it that your prayers speak? 

Sometimes I don't know how I got here, except for a surety in knowing it had something to do with my own choices - except that I cannot seem to find a bridge sturdy enough to bank on, between that me and the me now.  

When did the bridge come undone? Could it not be mended? Does it really wish to be so? 

To what avail, know not I,
But for now lay these murmurs to rest must I,
For slumber harkens out loud to be tended to thus.
Perchance in a dream I shall awaken again...

Who Am I?

Born in a place where she was destined to be. Grew up the only way she knew how, around whatever it was that she had. That was what made her who she was. The people she met, real or reel, they were the ones who she grew up watching; unknowingly - they were the ones she wanted to be like, they were whom she drew inspirations from - and to keep the balance in check - some of them were also whom she grew up fearing and wishing to keep away from - them and all their sorts...

The things, the people, the places that make us who we are today are all pre-destined and not something 'we' chose. It was our Maker (The All Knowing swt), and then our parents (and so on) who made the effective decisions. It was only after the first five or so years later, that we actually began remembering what it was that we wanted to do... be... etc. From there on we began our journey, and when one begins such a journey, hardly do they know what lies in store for them ahead...

... Some find their dreams effortlessly, some struggle to come close to them, some achieve them after a lot of hard work, while many more still are never able to accomplish even one, if any at all. The people that we become is not necessarily what we had planned.

What nation do I belong to?


What is my religion?


Who are my people?

The only question that I knew how to answer early on was that my people are those who love me for who I am, as I am. Some were family and some my friends - be they today near, or far.

My religion was something I was born into but for the lack of practicing examples around me at that time, something I never really believed in. I grew up being a prime example of monkey see, monkey do - and also saying what was always heard - perhaps we can call that what baby hear, baby says? My own opinion of it all was something I had not even come close to forming. To think for oneself was not something I had learned to do until many a years later into adulthood.

To what nation did I belong, is a question I still struggle with to date; three decades into having lived this life. To some that would be a really long time, and to some yet, not so much. Depends on what side of the movie screen one is seated at. Born on a land that refuses to give you it's name. Born around a people who refuse to immerse you amidst the people around whom you are born, thereby confining you to their own kind in 'said land'. Growing up around what was available, listening, watching, eating, growing up thus similarly emulating - you became, you. On visiting the land that 'your people' came from, you found yourself a little lost on finding a connection incomplete. On voicing this disconnect, you found yourself being left on the sidelines, or simply being accompanied to the door to stand outside; you did not fit in. This unsettled your heart. It made you question yourself. It also made you feel a little lost with regards to where you were meant to be, and who it was that you were meant to be.The land that felt like home did not want to keep you. The people who felt like home did not always understand you, and living around them after a short period of time, you began craving your home - theirs was not yours, this was clear as day, and you surely wanted night. Strife seemed to be your solid companion, but such is what by now you have been learning to call life.

Somewhere along all this searching, you had atleast found religion for yourself, and in the safety of your Lord's Omnipresence, irrespective of land or people, there was immense peace! Alhumdulillah! With That Hand to hold, you took on every hurdle, every steep climb and fall with hope. To give up was wrong, this faith sometimes shaken, managed to remain -in general- strong. But who it was that you were, and today see yourself to be, when telling others on being asked - remained a quelling mystery. Rejection from all that was home did not come easy. Acceptance from all that was not home, was a struggle to be faced every now and then. To find energy to last through it all, was one of the many tests that had to be sat through. To find firm footing, to find contentment, to find company, to find understanding, all towards a place to call your abode...


And such were the many aspirations sought by her seemingly very wanting soul, hereby rendered thus.

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...

That Finger That Points At Others...

... Yes it irks me!

For every piece of news we seem to get hold of, in these globally advanced times of ours; every discovery has to be glamourised, or at least hyped oh so much, that the listener in response either gapes, hates, or cries. Yes, interpret those reactions as you may!

Every nation, culture, and religion has one thing in common. They're all comprised of human beings. These human beings, based on the beliefs of the Abrahamic scriptures (I won't claim to presume about other religions, for I have not read of them enough), are designed in such a fashion that renders them susceptible to erring; the very reason for man to be set down on earth. If humans were mistake-free, or the epitome of perfection, then the very connotation of angels would be moot or void.

The fact that human beings are not perfect, leaves the door open to one, two, or few going astray - perhaps some more yet, having a mean streak stretched beyond what is comprehensible by the majority. The general good all of mankind collects to agree upon, regardless of creed and sect, just as they mostly do over the general bad. But offlate, the trend seems to be name calling; in the name of religion, country, groups, etc. 

-If one person belonging to your group goes astray, does that make the entire group lost? 

-If one person from a specific sect claims to say something that is disagreeable, does that bound everyone from that sect to the same thought/rigidity/stance? 

-If one person from 'x' country does something one way, does that make all citizens of that nation duty bound to do things that very same way? 

-If one person (or even 10) from religion 'y' interpret their rituals and duties as doing certain things in a certain manner, does that mean that all who claim to be under the umbrella of this faith will, and do, every thing that very same way?
Why are communities, nations, and a people being stoked and stroked by a quick smearing of the same brush? Why are we confining ourselves to the limitations of a single story, when what we really need to do is expose ourselves to the possibility of something more that may -and often does- exist beyond our myopic exposure? Why does it have to come down to either Muslims being terrorists, or Americans being Conspirators, while all Indians and Pakistanis being doctors and IT people, and all Arabs owning oil wells and camels, not to forget that all Brits have to have horrible dental hygiene, and everyone in Antarctica lives in Igloos! 

I guess by now, the ones reading who have a working grey matter would have caught on my drift, and woe.

One can only hope so much... and pray, if you're thus inclined...

*sigh*

This Was Not Her

This was not her; the mess, the anger, the reactions, the words, the feelings. This was what she was not equipped to deal with. Her head would speak to her, while her tongue went on and did as the surrounding induced. Her mind only won when on the mat she let her tears wash away her guilt, recriminations, anger, hurt, sorrow and everything else that was not welcome in the form of negativity. While those around her continued to live, they continued to be - she continued to see, and continued to plead. The overflow of pain, confusion, discord, mayhem and disrespect was no more overwhelming - it had crossed thresholds of patience some time ago, and was barely managing to keep adrift in the ocean of foreign deprivation she found herself immersed in. Swimming was something she had never been taught, and no amount of self help books were coming handy anymore. Something was deeply and surely amiss, for patience used to be the one thing she prided herself in being able to practice, and that too now was a lost blessing. With it's loss, she had lost herself (the self she had been familiar with), and knew not how to coerce back this lost self to a state of acceptance. The present unfamiliar person that existed in a shell did not understand anyone, and with every passing day was beginning to stop caring about love in all forms that it could exist. The only love that was still surviving was the love for her Maker, and if it were not for that One Familiar ground, she would perhaps have stopped existing courtesy the riot that roared in her head for the most part of her every day off late. This was not her; the mess, the anger, the reactions, the words, the feelings. This was what she was not equipped to deal with.

~ In prayer she then went back to throw herself.

The Seemingly Impenetrable Door

The lock on the door was tricky. Seemed like it budged only to reveal that it was actually jammed. Innately faulty or an engineering defect? One would wonder but would fail to arrive at an acceptable mortally conjured verdict. Sometimes this doorway allowed a tiny peak of light from the other side, viewed for long enough to get one to pine for what it could get a glimpse of, but before the eyes and heart could have a fill of it - it was jarred back tight into its mysterious but age accustomed grooves of familiarity ensuring that the latch was back in place rendering all passage through - surely impossible!

All is as it should be? Perhaps only time can tell. But how impossible could a walk through a door be? How solid or impenetrable could a lock be? Why was this step beyond the a-fore crossed, seeming to become more and more of a tedium? On counting, realisation weighed heavy and divulged thus; the number of diligent attempts to walk past the threshold were on a statistically recorded high, but the breaths which enabled them forward, were definitely not just low in power but also noticeably limited.

One day, to see the other side of the door remained a yearning which silently hoped to be fulfilled in its one blessed lifetime...

InshaAllah, Ameen.

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