snow laden mountains
whizzing wisp of wailing wind
barren land remains
-Fatima
Monday, September 29, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Love Letter Writing Contest: Love, Lost And Found
Note: This story was written in October 2013, for a short story contest. Although I didn't win it, I decided to share it out here. I know it's a bit late but those days my blog was closed and better late than never :)
......
It was half past six and the last rays of sun were slowly setting welcoming the pinkish hues with fading blue, when a knock on the door startled her. Though it was early dusk it was a little uncommon for a visitor at this time. Keeping aside the partly folded clothes, she got up slowly and opened the door.
“Sorry for the late hour madam, these are some letters we accidentally came across. It seems they were sent years ago but somehow couldn't reach the intended person. They are addressed to a certain Miss Aaliya, can you call her please.” Said the postman.
“It is me. And letters for me? Who would write to me? Anyways thank you.” Aaliya took the letters and stood at the door for a whole minute. Closing the door she headed for her bed and began inspecting the coverings, there were a million questions swarming her mind. The envelope looked rugged, the color too was fading and the ink on the cover was discolored when she caught sight of a faded name. A sudden sense of nostalgia gripped her, flickering with past memories she took the letters with trembling hands and began reading.
July 25th, 1940
Dear Aaliya,
Tough and tumultuous times lie ahead. And so here I am, sitting down to pen down a letter in the hope that all my love reaches you. I am not quite assured that I will have the chance to send this to you anytime soon. Yet I write to keep the faith alive in both you and I.
The sun is going down and we are surrounded with nothing but infinite stretch of gleaming water. I don’t really know where we are at the moment, maybe in the Pacific Ocean. But I don’t wish to discuss the state of affairs here nor the perils of being at war. I wish to feel loved and remain positive.
It’s been such a long time that I last saw you, the twinkle in your eyes and the innocence in your smile. Sometimes I feel I don’t belong here, I feel like coming running back to you. I liked it there, the rainy days and the messy fields. Those carefree days when we sat arm in arm under the banyan tree gazing at the serene blue sky, envisioning an independent future. There was a kind of magical silence still the calmness didn’t haunt me.
Here too, I gaze at the sky seeing it change colors from time to time. However, my dear I don’t feel the tranquility I felt then. Hours pass by in the silent night as I keep on pondering of the catastrophe awaiting. It is uncertain, even more uncertain than the rains. And then an unknown fear grips me, what will happen tomorrow? Will a bright sunshine greet me or the night cloak me forever. It is in those moments I question my decision and realization dawns, I chose this mission to protect people, to protect you.
I doubt my sweetheart I can continue anymore, I must at once leave for we’re being called upon. I will write at every chance I get, do not be uneasy for when you don’t receive my letters. I promise to post them the moment my feet touch the land.
Give my love to my father, tell him I’m safe.
Your Beloved,
Imraan
......
It was half past six and the last rays of sun were slowly setting welcoming the pinkish hues with fading blue, when a knock on the door startled her. Though it was early dusk it was a little uncommon for a visitor at this time. Keeping aside the partly folded clothes, she got up slowly and opened the door.
“Sorry for the late hour madam, these are some letters we accidentally came across. It seems they were sent years ago but somehow couldn't reach the intended person. They are addressed to a certain Miss Aaliya, can you call her please.” Said the postman.
“It is me. And letters for me? Who would write to me? Anyways thank you.” Aaliya took the letters and stood at the door for a whole minute. Closing the door she headed for her bed and began inspecting the coverings, there were a million questions swarming her mind. The envelope looked rugged, the color too was fading and the ink on the cover was discolored when she caught sight of a faded name. A sudden sense of nostalgia gripped her, flickering with past memories she took the letters with trembling hands and began reading.
 |
Dear Aaliya,
Tough and tumultuous times lie ahead. And so here I am, sitting down to pen down a letter in the hope that all my love reaches you. I am not quite assured that I will have the chance to send this to you anytime soon. Yet I write to keep the faith alive in both you and I.
The sun is going down and we are surrounded with nothing but infinite stretch of gleaming water. I don’t really know where we are at the moment, maybe in the Pacific Ocean. But I don’t wish to discuss the state of affairs here nor the perils of being at war. I wish to feel loved and remain positive.
It’s been such a long time that I last saw you, the twinkle in your eyes and the innocence in your smile. Sometimes I feel I don’t belong here, I feel like coming running back to you. I liked it there, the rainy days and the messy fields. Those carefree days when we sat arm in arm under the banyan tree gazing at the serene blue sky, envisioning an independent future. There was a kind of magical silence still the calmness didn’t haunt me.
Here too, I gaze at the sky seeing it change colors from time to time. However, my dear I don’t feel the tranquility I felt then. Hours pass by in the silent night as I keep on pondering of the catastrophe awaiting. It is uncertain, even more uncertain than the rains. And then an unknown fear grips me, what will happen tomorrow? Will a bright sunshine greet me or the night cloak me forever. It is in those moments I question my decision and realization dawns, I chose this mission to protect people, to protect you.
I doubt my sweetheart I can continue anymore, I must at once leave for we’re being called upon. I will write at every chance I get, do not be uneasy for when you don’t receive my letters. I promise to post them the moment my feet touch the land.
Give my love to my father, tell him I’m safe.
Your Beloved,
Imraan
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Colloquy in Cold
Prelude to this
It was nearing eventide, the quaint cafe at the end of the cobblestone road was nearly vacated. A band of youngsters were crooning to some soft acoustic music filling the café with mellow notes.
She was sitting across him nestling a cup of warm black coffee in the confines of her mitten covered palms. Winters, coffee, conversations and them, they were the only things that remained unchanged in a sea of time, careers and friendships. The only ones they looked forward to every year. One thing led to another, and laughter breezed through them.
"I suspect highly that sharing our feelings make us raw to being vulnerable. It’s better to not share because sometimes, some things are best locked in the crevices of our hearts and minds. You know it is not good when someone knows us to the point of vulnerability. It’s like they can exploit you and you can’t even put a stop to it," Ayah swift-ed the chat.
Having known each other for the past eight years he was not at all surprised by the sudden change in conversation. Yasin nibbled the last of his biscuit before reciprocating back to her.
"Sometimes you let people know you, and you do that to fight your own loneliness. Some might say, I prefer my solitude but aren't they the same people whose face lights up in the company of others. Aren't they susceptible to vulnerability? The smile that brightens their moment gives away more than words ever can. You know you aren't really vulnerable until you let yourself be."
"I wish I could hug you, but we both know how afraid I am. Afraid to trust someone all over again," she responded softly continuing to gaze outside seeing the rain loudly lashing the window pane.
It was nearing eventide, the quaint cafe at the end of the cobblestone road was nearly vacated. A band of youngsters were crooning to some soft acoustic music filling the café with mellow notes.
She was sitting across him nestling a cup of warm black coffee in the confines of her mitten covered palms. Winters, coffee, conversations and them, they were the only things that remained unchanged in a sea of time, careers and friendships. The only ones they looked forward to every year. One thing led to another, and laughter breezed through them.
"I suspect highly that sharing our feelings make us raw to being vulnerable. It’s better to not share because sometimes, some things are best locked in the crevices of our hearts and minds. You know it is not good when someone knows us to the point of vulnerability. It’s like they can exploit you and you can’t even put a stop to it," Ayah swift-ed the chat.
Having known each other for the past eight years he was not at all surprised by the sudden change in conversation. Yasin nibbled the last of his biscuit before reciprocating back to her.
"Sometimes you let people know you, and you do that to fight your own loneliness. Some might say, I prefer my solitude but aren't they the same people whose face lights up in the company of others. Aren't they susceptible to vulnerability? The smile that brightens their moment gives away more than words ever can. You know you aren't really vulnerable until you let yourself be."
"I wish I could hug you, but we both know how afraid I am. Afraid to trust someone all over again," she responded softly continuing to gaze outside seeing the rain loudly lashing the window pane.
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