Come, be my friend

Come,be my friend
And I will write you a pretty story

I will tell you of all the stars I know
And the love that is there to find

Come, believe my words
And I will tell you a pretty lie

I will tell you of the heart
And the secrets it will take to grave

Come,be my confidant
And I will tell you all there is to

I will tell you of my wrecked soul
And the cracks in it, that you can't see

Come, be my guide
And I will give you the treasure map

I will let you lead me away
Away, astray, anywhere; I don't care

Come, be my light
And I will put you on the highest pedestal  

I will let your love wash over everything
For the days are darker for some

Come, stand by my side
And I will do the same for you

The shadows, the lights, the rain, the sun
The world revolves for our sakes

Come,be my friend
And I will write you a pretty letter

I'll tell you all the words again, that I lost
Drenched in the dew from the mountains

Mango Shake

Lately I have been thinking about you and I
And what a mess it all is

You have dragged me from my core
My centre of stability
and left me on an end that has no one

You and I, we are poles apart
You with your cold, unyielding heart stand on the North end
While I am left to hang out in the sun of the South
That mocks me like there has been none like me before

Am I the only fool there has ever been?

And no matter how much circles I run in, we can never be one
Because poles must stand till the end of the world

Unless the earth is a flat circle on a paper
That you could fold
Then I would fold it by the equator
So you and I, we can be together

With half of the world falling off from behind the circle
The other half folded in between
It's the sacrifice that our meeting demands

Is it worth it for you?
Can you afford it?

Yours is the importance of a mango in summers delight
Mine is that of a banana, forever present

You come with all the pomp and show of the world
With a fragrance too strong
And colors too bright

I am nothing but an option
Sometimes

For the first time
Yesterday, I went to drink a mango shake
In it there was strong flavour of banana

It's only recent that I have realized
Mangoes and bananas don't mix well together

Save Your Smiles

When I was a little girl, my mother used to teach me the value of saving money with an example.


The example was of the working class in our village who, whenever there was a harvest, used to have money that would suffice them a year.

But instead of doing that, they would loitre it around
Party every day
Until the money was no more
And they are back to being destitutes


Maybe they were just chasing after the feeling of being rich for a few days
Or maybe they just do not think at all

I learned this lesson
But only in its exact same words
With no extension of thoughts towards any other matter, whatsoever

I stand on the side of the road
Its mid day
Sun is a bit too bright
There is a car reversing just near me
For some reason, I am not there

I wish and I wish
I wish I had learnt to save a few smiles
And a few skips of heart
For days like these

Why are we careless when we are happy?
Why do we get drunk on joy and lose it all on our way back home?

Happiness makes you feel immortal
and you, foolishly, believe it

so when the cities of your heart are dying
And houses are burning in front of you

All you can think is, how do I go back?

There is always this one point in time that triggers chaos
And sometimes, all I can think is how to go back and stop it from happening

Regrets and what ifs

(Now go back up and read the example again)

Life's Sense Of Humour

I promised myself, if ever I am to fall in love, then I shall fall in love with a funny man.
Someone who undertood my sense of humour.
Life has a quirky sense of humour.
I should like to crack my own jokes, thankyou very much.

The only chance for me to fall in love is if and when I got married
But what if that didnt happen?
What if I spent my entire life waiting and trying for that to happen?
Would that be it?
How do people deal with living half a life?

I am 22, going on 23. And the reaction I have to the whatever magnanimity of life there is; "Is this it?"

There is a constant search for something that isnt there
I dont know what is missing
But the small talk depresses me
The conversations that are dragged on for no reason depress me
People who have no deeper understanding of what I am and where I come from depress me

And the thing is, no matter how long or short a while you may know each other, spiritualism and a deeper  connection is a gift granted and not earned.

Its a gift
essential for survival
Well, at least for me

As a dear friend once said to me, whenever I find such jewels, I collect and keep them safely by me.

And such jewels shine when there is no light around me
When the hollow inside my soul is haunting me
These jewels sparkle and reassure
That I am not alone

What if there is no jewel like that for me after all this is over?
What if there is just the hollowness of my soul
And the haunting calls of depression

There are people who have hope
And passion
And at least a little zeal
For the future

I am not one of them.

There are little lessons
Little but important lessons
That I have learnt

To never trust a person who talks about other people to you
Who backbites
Who takes you into his confidence
Because you are no different to him than any other person

So conversations must be gauged before they are released to be suspended in air
Forever

I have learnt never to trust a person who spends too much time adorning his 'zaahir'
If the 'baatin' is beautiful
There is no need to adorne the zaahir

If the insides are hollow
And ugly
And you keep on telling others what a bad person you are
Then you dont really believe that , do you?
You just need a pat on the back

"No honey, you are not a monster." Is what I must tell you
And lull you back to sleep

But life has a quirky sense of humour, doesn't it?
Those who are beautiful must live in the darkness of disbelief
And the bejewelled must be praised till there is nothing left of this world

So when I crack my own jokes, I am the only one laughing.

That One Person

Influence over a human mind is an art equivalent to black magic.
To me, its blasphemous. Downright punishable.

Then again, how can you control who has control over you?
How can you foresee the consequences of acquaintance, projected well over five six year?

When you meet a person who is later to become the master of your thoughts, you never think that you are going to let them handle you.
You never think that their words could make you happier than you imagined.
And you most definitely never think that you are going to become an emotional slave to them.

But what you do think at that moment
is how nice they are
and then as yet a free person, your thoughts drift back to the rut that is your life

I believe that there is always this one person who has more influence over your feeble mind than all the rest combined.
There is this one person who is meant to turn you around and change your life altogether; be it beneficial or suicidal.
And that one person doesn't need time to do all of that.
Because in matters that deal with psyche, we are helpless.

You can know someone your whole life, and you can love them more than life itself; but they may never have that kind of power on you.

Influence is a gift you give the next stranger down the street.

Packed with fresh strawberries, and not to forget your life for safe keeping.

Influence blinds you to the extent that stranger could be a thief found in the company of nobles, you would make his work easier by giving him the key. Sparing him the trouble of breaking the lock.

Easy, peasy, Lemon squeezy


Life is struggle
Between what I want
And what I should want
Its a struggle between my urge to be happy and influences forcing me not to be

The stranger is in my mind
The stranger is the ruler
Of winds and waters
Of tears and laughters
Of sleep and death
And the stranger has a will of his own
So utterly independant of mine
That I have bruises
All over my mind

I hate the person I have become
Its too late anyway

Marvi

Marvi has been toying with my mind for three years now

Marvi is always there
Sitting, laughing, dancing, crying, sleeping even
Marvi is always there

It is the hold of a character on a writer
I don't tell her what to do
She tells me

She is a girl not bound by anything
Age
Time
Glee
Sorrow

She is a girl that every girl wants to be

So when she wispers in my ears, I let her run barefoot, in a crimson shalwaar, on muddy roads of Lahore in rain

I let her profess her undying devotion to the man she only just met even though it is a suicide

I let her smoke a pack of cigarettes in public when it is a tabboo

I let her choose the song for her story
I let her play it, 24/7
Because she wants to

I let her run away from all she has
I let run towards what she wants

Because she wouldn't have it any other way
She wouldn't be restrained
Not by logic
Not by reason
Not by propriety

It is the most wonderful thing ever
To love someone when they don't even exist except in your mind
To be with someone and be content with it
To want to be like someone yet you know it is impossible

Marvi has boarded a ship that will steer me to an island
To help me find my story
Or if she pleases, the ship will sail forever and the story will never be complete
It is Marvi's game
I am a humble servant

~ a writers musings

EVALUATING THE DAMAGE WORDS HAVE DONE

Too much soul-searching
Too little finding

There is a corner in my head where all the words are stored
The good and the bad
The nice and the hurtful

And I am in full possession of all my faculties as I utter them
I know the implications of all of those tiny little words that I speak

A little blue

Is it a sin to let your hear take a leap
the vulnerability
The cold
The dust of the world
Has tarnished the mere face of
the sad,sad heart you had

In a dream, dark and shiny
In a time not so different
You have seen what you want
with different faces and different names
with different roles to play thereafter
People have made you yearn
For joy so pure
For dreams that serene

The swishing wind has
Turned your insides blue
Your arms are shaky
And your hands too
Heart held out in these
Falls through the hills
Down in the valley
Never to be found

Words are your armour
Your weapon and your escape
words have lied too many times
Before, Again and then Again
So your endearments seem hollow
Even before your let the out
In the world to be rejected

Who would have known that
big gestures
And public displays
could win a heart for you?
Alas, this pomp and show
will end before the crowd scatters
And you will be stranded
more than before

Words and words are all I have

Words can move mountains
Words can flood the oceans
Words are empty
And so shallow
But words never mean anything

ASSALATU KHAIRUM MINAN NAUM

I had promised myself I will not post until the end of my exams

This is not the first time I have broken a promise to myself

It's quite routine to be honest.


Do I feel guilty about it?


Then again, how often do we really feel guilty about something?

NOSTALGIA

Have you ever grieved the loss of your older self?
Have you cried for a part of a person you were a while ago?
Have you?

Its cliche
Its been-there-done-that.
It is very very annoying
how we all wish to turn the clocks
reverse the tides
turn the direction of winds
just to glance back

But it is a life governed by what if's
Could have's
Should have's
Ought have's

Its a terrible way to live.
But in nostalgia breeds self-pity, self-reassurance
It is a poor attempt to give your self esteem a boost
to make yourself believe that it wasn't always so terrible
that I wasn't always this sad

What is life if lived in past?
That you keep reliving the memories in moments that you should be just living?

I dare ask, "Why?"

How easy is it to just divide your vision evenly into two halves?

No thought towards any possible third option.
And honestly, why bother?

Isn't there just the Good and the Bad?
Just Black and White?
Yes and No?
Happy and Sad?
Alive and Dead?

At 13, fresh and alive, happy and satisfied, I invited my friends over all the time.
I entertained them even when they came uninvited.
I fancied myself quite liked and likeable to be honest.

SANDS OF TIME

Sand on the beach
Sand in the desert

Sand dunes made and unmade by the wind
Footprints made and unmade by the sea

And I sit at the shore, look at all this with my eyes wide open and mind completely blank.
Why didnt I see this before?
Why dont I know the truth when I have seen it a million times?

DO YOU EVER?

It is unfair.

Very unfair.
To those who sit quietly by and wait for you to remember them.
But do you ever?

When you are happy
When you sit and look at the stars
When your heart skips a beat
Do you remember the old one's, so near and dear?

A fool's play!

Listen to the wise, they tell you not to get attached to material things, to temporary abodes and even this sojourn on Earth.
Listen to the wise and live a protected life
Listen to the wise and be contended
but happy, though? Would you be?

Happiness comes at great costs sometimes.
Be a little stupid, a bit more wreck less that you can afford, and feel that rush of joy sweeping through your soul.
Be happy.
But just for a little while.

Temptations

What does it mean to be 'human'?
In the truest sense of its word, with all its slights and shortcomings, its prizes and consolations, displayed (correction:splashed more like it) across the canvas of your life?
What is it?
Think about it
Or don't
Its up to you.

I don't think I can handle a sad answer to this question.
But you can very justly ask me why would I ask such a question if I know this isn't going to end all rainbows and butterflies?

Maybe when you are too 'okay', you need some reality check. Something to ground you back to your roots.

There is never a perfectly justifiable excuse to why we do things.

What is it to be 'human'?

HOW LITTLE DO WE GROW UP WHEN WE GROW UP AT HOME

I had thought I would write a poem.
I re-thought it.
Words come easier to me now.
So I wrote something. But not a poem.

Words are one way of giving yourself out. The most exposing way there could be. With proof and all.
And to take refuge in a box made of glass had been my mistake. One of many.