And so, it Began

Prelude to Part I

December 2005

The sky was a dull shade of light inky blue. The earth flurry as it lay covered in sheets of silvery white ice, after the first snow of the season. The trees were bare with none but tiny droplets of cool melted snow. He was sitting in a tiny room inspiration-ally self-named the “Chamber of Secrets” hidden behind rows and rows of wooden cupboards that housed an array of untouched books in the library of the Victorian Primrose Hall now known as Primrose Local Academy. The room like its occupant and nature lay bare; a table with four chairs and the sparse ivy on some windows the only adornment to the faded yellow stone.

There was nothing striking about him at first glance, he was an ordinary guy of seventeen with nerdy looks and a silent smile. Yet he was someone who enjoyed the soft camaraderie within his circle of friends. Being a rather quiet day with nothing much to do, he immersed himself in the world of John Keats in a world of romanticism and introspection; letting the piled up stress from weeks drain away.

She was trying to be inconspicuous as she made her way to the small alcove but the slight tapping of her feet on the wooden floor gave her away. No sooner did she invade the serene room a sheepish smile tugged the corner of her lips, having stumbled upon him. Not really embarrassed but surprised to find him there of all places.

“Fancy seeing someone here!” she exclaimed abruptly.

“Not really surprising assuming you are a placid soul like me, who loves to escape from the cacophony of the classroom every once in a while”, replied he.

“True, though I guess retrospective would be the more apt word to describe me”, she responded before continuing “I don’t always come here seems like I always have to search for excuses to get away from my gang of girls, fifteen year olds’ can be utterly nosy when they wish to be.”

They were strangers in a sea of familiar faces, from her age he guessed her to be his junior although he was stunned to know he didn’t know her. Being based outside the outskirts of the city beyond the small town of Shimla, their academy was relatively small where everyone knew everyone making privacy an alien concept. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to fill the gaps and converse, to get to know someone from the scratch. He continued,

“Life is a riot of emotions where I ended up drifting from one shore to another gliding with a gamut of ideas only to realize, life is blue. I love the colour blue; to me it means abundance, loyalty and prosperity. However, I learnt it carries within itself a sense of trust," saying this he paused for a while, not knowing how to put to words his feelings. Feelings that were buried in deep. It was strange that she didn't try to fill the silence with words, but continued to wait. Wait patiently until he began speaking again, " Trust that once gained should not be dwindled but multiplied like prosperity. It is hard for me to open up to people, let alone trust and yet here I am on lazy winter afternoon being open to a stranger.”  

She settled herself in the chair opposite to his and ruminated his words for a long time. Brooding over what he said, trying to organize her incoherent thoughts. Unlike him she was an extrovert or so she thought, until she shifted locations and settled in this tranquil place as opposed to the fast paced city life she was used to. Contrary to him it was appreciation and admiration that she craved.

“All throughout my life blue was a source of serenity but with the passage of time gloom has started taking its place. People drift away, leaving memories. It's not their fault it's just the way it all works nonetheless certain reliance fades. Trust and trustworthy, do you suppose they are mutually exclusive events despite originating from the same source?”

“Nostalgia can be a gnawing ache hard to let go”, he returned his gaze to the now dark skies pondering.

He resumed a few minutes later, “How can one be trustworthy if one doesn’t believe in the concept of trust? Trust is like a secure blanket that surrounds us in a place that we consider our safe haven whereas trustworthy is assuming someone to not break our trust, our cocoon and guiding us.”

 A non committal shrug was her only acknowledgment to his response.

She was feeling stupid as if a layer of her had peeled off with just one random conversation. She stood up abruptly brushing the non-existent lint on her jacket; she spoke in a hopeful yet guarded voice “I’ve always desired a friend with whom I could revel in quiet companionship, until now I didn’t think my wish would be granted. I liked this time we spent together in soft solitude Yasin”, said she his name gleaming from the head boy batch pinned on his chest proudly.

He gave her a genuine smile, as she introduced herself as Ayah and they walked their separate ways.

-Fatima

Part I

Is Honesty Overrated?

Ever noticed you were all independent and didn't wish to be dependent on others? The reason, you knew some people don't really care or they will leave you all alone when you need them. And then a certain someone comes along and everything in your life rejuvenates. They make you feel loved, cherished and cared for. You start thinking of them as your one true friend and then you realise. It was all just a lie.

Good morning Toastmaster of the day and fellow seekers. Memories, they are like time machines, taking us to places once known. I have always been an extrovert. Someone who doesn't have trouble striking up a conversation with strangers. I could meet you today smile at you and be myself with no ulterior motive. So let me rewind and take you a few years back in time. I was a good friend..fun to be with, loyal honest and partner in crime. I still am. But I was too innocent and trusting then. 

This is a conversation between Apurva someone who is my best friend from class 6th and me. We are currently in our first year of graduation nearing May.

Apurva: Hi Fatima. How are you?

Me: Hii apurva,  I'm good. How are you? 

Apurva: I'm good too. Hey listen the reason I called you is me and Neha are meeting up for lunch so thought of asking you too. 

Fatima: Err actually I have exams in a weeks time but I could join you guys for one hour max. 

Apurva: Excuses! God knows why we were expecting something from you. And hung up the phone. 

And I kept on wondering I didn't reject did I?  So what happened?

Needless to say we did meet that day and that was the last time. It left me thinking what wrong did I do? Was it a crime to be honest and that too with your bestie. What was the point in me taking out time and going to meet when it was supposed to be the end of our more than 7 years of friendship.

The answer came to me. It was the honesty that made me drift away from my friends or maybe as I now look at it, so called friends. It was this blunt nature of mine that actually left me alone and with a void. Too much of mind flipping drama i tell you ! And so I started weaving lies to hide my pain. 

Creating a web of illusory events where I was the reason my friends left me, eventually making a brilliant fiction that could win an Oscar or at least an IIFA Award. And all because I started believing honesty was overrated.

But deep down I knew relationships cannot survive on lies. That it was time to stop lying to myself that the people I hung out with truly cared. It was time to accept the moment I am honest with them, they walk away. And not because I was honest but because they were never.

It was almost like I did not have the right to be myself. You know friends there is a saying, 

'There comes a time when you have to stop crossing oceans for people who wouldn't even jump puddles for you.' And the moment I accepted that life gifted me people who are worth it. Who were genuine, who didn't shy away from the truth, both listening and telling.

People say being too honest can break relationships, but I say it doesn't rather it makes them. It was then I realised honesty is not overrated. What matters is can you handle the truth. So friends what will you do next? The next time you face a situation where you want to be honest but your mind and heart say hey if you be honest here, your friends might not understand and it will backfire. What will you do? 

Many a times you might compromise and not tell the truth. But be true to yourself, don't hesitate please be honest. If you have a true friend, a true lover they will understand and the relation will become strong but not break.

-Fatima

The Void Within

There was a faint chill in the warm May air and a calm that bought a feeling of change; a change as ancient and intangible as time. 

I was lying on my bed in a pale yellow nightdress staring into the dark space. Million thoughts, one after another kept floating in my mind. Dead silence and a deep settling void were my only companion besides the empty black sky. And all I wanted to do was break free.

Good morning madame Toastmaster of the day and fellow dreamers. The year was 2010 and I was still an engineer in making. A profession I so hated that I was ready to do anything to escape it. However, there were 3 things I realised then

1. I wasn't a risk taker

2. I didn't want to disappoint my parents 

And 3. Drinking mountain Dew doesn't really help. And so the struggle continued, internally. Being in a college where everyone was happy to pursue their dream I felt like an outsider. With no one to befriend I started recoiling in my shell. Have you ever felt that? An hankering need to have a companion? A friend with whom you could be yourself, and yet they won't walk away from you. I needed that friend as I was slowly falling in the whirlpool called void. Days turned into months and December arrived, the month when I was supposed to go to my college Industrial Visit up north. I was afraid, how would I enjoy? During my two years of blogging I ended up making a lot friends. It was then for the first time ever that I talked to one on phone. 

Mishti: What's up Fatima. How are things going on? 

Me: Hi mishti Travelling! Out on a trip from college currently in Corbett heading to Nainital. 

Mishti: Wow did you see tigers? So must be excited? 

Me: Haha no tigers. Excited yes content no, I'm travelling with a group yet I'm all lost and alone there seems to be a void. 

Mishti: Try to at peace even when your emotions are bubbling on the surface. You're travelling forget mean classmates, explore the place. At the end only these moments matter, they are the ones that bridge the gap between you and I and what fills the void within.

And just like the winding roads that connected places, a connection was born.

She, I felt understood me. Instead of abandoning me, chose to stay. It's not about someone making us happy. Friends it's about who fills the void within, the emptiness that surrounds.

Times changed, I graduated, did my post graduation yes in engineering. And started working two jobs six days a week to dedicating half the Sunday to Toastmasters yet something was missing.

In spite of the fact having decided to not follow the rat race and turn into a money making monkey, I turned into one. It felt like a cat and mouse game where I was happy yet not truly content. At that moment when I was again drifting apart Toastmasters came to my rescue in form of Confluence 2016.  I  realised connections are not always supposed to be the ones that give you a high. Sometimes a connection is that soothing feeling that brings in peace and makes you feel at home. Just like the ocean was breathtakingly beautiful with the wind, stars and moon as its companions.

I found the connection within myself and in turn with everyone from MTM, I got a chance to connect to the real you Namrata, Pankaj, Prashant, Harsimran, Ravi and others outside MTM. I had gone to Goa to escape but what I found there is something which can't be expressed but only felt.

Friends remember this, "Life is a series of hits and misses and sometimes there are only dark days at a stretch. Don't lose hope or let the void overpower you, hold on. Just like the sun, that shines after a long dark night!"

-Fatima

P.S: Won Best Speaker Ribbon for this speech.

Make a Difference

Local trains are the lifeline of Mumbai, where we come across different types of people. My experience though is confined to the ladies compartment both first and second class. It was during one of my journey's some years ago that I saw a group of ladies forcing a young kid selling notebooks to get off the compartment as it was the first class. It made me question what was the child's fault?  why the second hand citizen treatment?

Good evening Toastmaster of the day and fellow Toastmasters.

Has it ever happened to you like it did to me that a particular incident shook you to the core? Blurring the lines between black and white, making you question people. How do they help in the progress of their society? That giving charity to the underprivileged is not the only thing they need, that there is more.

Let me share with you all a story that is very close to my heart. I graduated in the summer of 2013, though I felt elated and free there was a void in me. A void no matter what I did, didn't disappear. It left me pondering; I had everything for comfort a roof over my head, meals three times a day, education and my family but what about those others who struggled day in and out. I was bursting with energy I wanted to give back to society, to the people who help in making our lives comfortable on the expense of theirs. I had heard donating money is the best help you can give to people.

However, I wanted to do something that was more than momentary, something they  could use. And the opportunity presented itself. I was recruited in an NGO called MAD, Make a Difference as a teaching volunteer. Every Sunday from 3 to 6 p.m. starting from the month of August I began visiting my assigned shelter home St. Francis Orphanage in Borivali. It was no cake walk, it should be shouldn't it after all, all I taught those kids was English for two hours at the most. It wasn't the teaching nor the commitment that was tough it was the connection, the social gap that was there. Each Sunday was a revelation.

I was assigned four 8th std kids and one of the biggest hurdles I had was connecting with those teenage boys. At first it was difficult they were too mischievous and troublesome for my handling especially those initial days when I had no buddy. Half the time it was like police and robbers game where I was the one chasing them to sit in one place and eventually at the end I was the one left tired and they laughing at me. I used to get irked easily those days but later on I realised this was the only time they could laugh and enjoy. With the passing of time we grew closer though not as much as I would have liked as they were with my buddy Omkar. He was the cool teacher and I was the one they turned to when they were down or too energetic.

There were moments of intense joy and downright sadness with all those emotions that were directly linked to what happened with them over the week. And eventually the year came to end.

I had gone there to teach to make these kids a part of the global nation but it was I who ended up learning. I taught them English they taught me the language of emotions, of understanding, of true joy, contentment and hope. They do not crave charity a hundred or so odd others give them that, what makes them smile is love,  time and effort freely given. In an age where we run behind materialistic things looking far ahead at the bigger picture we often times forget the small pixels, the ones when joined together make a spectacular picture. On an end note all I would say is "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give." 

-Fatima

Women Stereotypical.. Really??

A wallflower,  a doormat.  One who doesn't have a voice, no freedom no life! If, this is  our first impression about 'her'; it is not she but us who need an education.

Good morning Toastmaster of the day, fellow Toastmasters and guests. I a modest woman of the 21st century pose to you a grave question.  Are all women stereotypical? Some of you may agree, some disagree. Further down the line maybe you'll debate on their ethnicity. Asians may say middle-eastern are oppressed. The middle-eastern might pity the western women who are free and yet bound by clutches. While the west may have a similar opinion on the Asian counterpart. All lost! Every change in the vicious cycle of categorising women, sometimes by women themselves . But hey, have you ever bothered knowing what's beneath. Beneath the skin irrespective of colour, caste, religion and creed. There's a heart just like yours that beats.

Indian woman. What comes to your mind when you think of an Indian woman. A god fearing, head bowed down to respect men obedient and homebound, waiting to be freed of the age old philosophy. Or an uneducated village girl or a modern girl from city who idolises the western society. To each his own. Unless you are totally ignorant or a foreigner,  your impression of Indian women solely relies on the media. What the media shows is not always the complete picture. True,  villages are the heart of India but not every village woman is uneducated or backward. If that were the case there would have been no woman teachers or sarpanch. What the media shows is a twisted image of the condition of women sometimes for some political agenda other times simply for the sake of gaining sympathy and viewership.

On a more global and personal level, there are two imageries that are the most common ones; picture a muslim woman and the accompanying image comes with a burqa or an hijab that's the headscarf. And if the lady in question doesn't wear none then lightly put, she's more than likely to hear wow! You're a different liberal woman. Hello my dears!!! Is the outer covering or the lack of the only thing that describes me as a woman? She is covering herself she must be a religious conservative, shy and a victim of male domination.  Poor soul doesn't even get a chance to voice her opinion. Oh my God isn't that harsh? Isn't that again stereotyping? How do we know she's all those things? Did we find it out first hand or like everyone else our first impression was made with the media image? Not everything is as it seems, true 10 % may fall under this convention but what about the rest? Take time to think before you reach a conclusion.

Another recent example of this can be the condition of certain women in the European countries. Let's take France for example, I'm sure everyone hears the news. The latest burkini ban! Duh what is that? It's just a term coined using burqa and a bikini, a beach wear designed for hijab and burqa clad ladies. India approves it, after all burkini beats bikini here any day. Alas! Peace is always short lived, there is always some or the other ban taking place somewhere in the world. Ban the hijab, ban the burkini, ban woman from voting yes yes it's the Vatican City, ban woman leaving home at night and ban the bikini too. Oh no no,  the last one is okay, it's nothing to worry about. But in the 50s even woman donning bikini's were stereotyped as loose morals and banned by the church. Are they truly?

Why 50s even now when women wear short dresses or something that is not 'society' approved there is an uproar. So miss X was raped,  it's her fault why was she flaunting herself to him and travelling alone at night, women are supposed to be in bed by 9. Or she had completely hidden herself in her veil,  I'm a hot blooded man obviously I was curious,  it is all her mistake. So much for woman liberation and equality where people judge us on the way we dress!

Stop double speaking,  stop judging woman by what you see what you hear. Next time you see another woman, whatever her colour or attire be. Stop that brain of yours from wondering about how she is, you might be wrong. There's a saying 'Don't judge a book by its cover',  so 'Stop judging and start embracing.'

Note: Speech is made out of facts and figures researched from the Internet. (Topic required a little research)

-Fatima

Phantasm

Icy winds sailing through

Seeping into
my very bones,

Cut open,
my soul

Howling now they pass
From me towards you.

....

Afloat you lay,
Drenching in the frosty rain

Tearing like the red sea,
Feeling the raw pain

Spurting water
Gasping for air,

Bleak eyes gazing with solace.

...

Shivering
Teeth clenched

I wake up from the daze,
Chilling the rolling fears

Wrapped in a soothing caress
The fog slowly drifts away

Awaiting warmth
I lie with you in December days.

-Fatima

One Step At a Time

Dear Student,

"To be a part of a child's life and celebrate his every little success forms the greatest moments of any teacher's life."

There are days, more like moments when you are downright confused, messy and in a haze of a crazy spiral mess. The more you share the more varied views or advice you receive. And if, you are not completely sane and in one of those moods it affects you the most, dampening your mood and spoiling your day. It's not just you whose affected but the people you hang out with; your colleagues and if you're a teacher the worst hit party are your students. They bear the brunt of your mood swings. But is it right or is it mental? It would be unwise to say, you're correct and blame your students for everything, "Hey I was stressed out and you added to it" or "It's all your fault, kids these days I tell you no respect for elders or teachers." et al. I mean it's easy to jot down excuses and blame others, why do we not look at our faults? It could have been us and not them.

From the past one week or so, I've been listening to this; "You're too friendly or you care too much. It's okay to care for your friends and family. But there is a line between a student and a teacher. You shouldn't be friendly with them, at least not outside the class and blah blah." End of story what all that yielded was;
1. Not to be friendly to students.
2. Only be strict.
3. Do Not Care, there's a line that divides you.

I freaked up, big time. On one hand I've had some exceptionally awesome teachers, who went on caring for us like we were their own kids. And the best part was, they loved us; loved me, were friendly & caring, heard us out even if they couldn't help us and always, always gave us advice; not the bookish one but of their own experiences. And I realize we respected them, still do and even remember them, are in touch with them, if not all some. They taught well, maybe they weren't perfectionist, no one is or maybe they were. But they respected us, us students. And looking back now, I don't remember how they taught me or if, they ever made a goof-up in class, what I do clearly remember is, how they made me feel. Heck, they didn't even lose hope in me when I and my so-called friends thought I was a lost cause. After all, all we need is a bit of love, hope & lots of faith.

And today I finally took the courage to ask my mum, "Hey what kind of a teacher were you?" And you know what she told me? "I was friendly, caring; I was new obviously so it was not a cake walk everyone is at one point but I maintained good relations both in and out of class. Experience and perfection in teaching comes with time, when delivering a lecture. But friendliness it should be there from the start. And what you need to have is patience, lots of patience."

This reminds me I read somewhere, "It doesn't matter if your student is 5 years younger to you or 15, he or she is your student & if you treat them well, they will treat you well, and respect you." After all to gain respect & friends one should be the same. You get what you give.

There will be hundred's of people who will advice you, but only ten will truly do and mean it. So today, my confusion has resolved and I'm sorry for being mean and selfish and for being angry when there was no need, anger is never the solution. I love you guys and that's it. I've loved every single student of mine that I've taught till date and In shaa Allah will do in future too.

And an ending quote, "The best thing about being a teacher is that as they grow, we grow with them."

-love, Fatima

P.S: The opening and closing quotes of this letter are from, Make A Difference page couldn't help but share.

Solitary Solitude

Walking through the woods
I sometimes feel so alone
A void engulfs and the air stills
With none but just the sound of my boots.

Trodding the barren road
I cross a shallow stream
Submerging grief and kindling dreams
Listening to the sloshing sound of my bare feet.

Strolling a bit further down
I reach the end of the narrow trailing route
Pondering, the silence slowly flows
Hearkening to the whooshing hush of my sitting knees.

Reaching the cold rock lastly
Towards the untouched horizon, I see
Watching the sky mesh in shades and hues
As I lay down to rest awaiting a day anew.

-Fatima

Betwixt

Dark night with cool air

And there she lies with void bare..

Lonely and muddled as midnight moon

She shies away in the starry gloom..

What is it that numbs the pain

She searches the antidote now blase.. 

Spring summer autumn and snow

She welcomes them all, all the same..

Longing hoping for moments unknown 

She wishes for warmth in the passing rains..

-Fatima

A Winter Embrace

Prelude to This

She sat on the old wooden stool, her back in a rigid posture with her fingers nimbly playing a melody on the pianoforte. It was Schubert, one of her favourites. She had always loved the rough silky texture of the black and white keys, that when felt by her delicate fingers gave birth to a world of its own.

Her fingers came to a halt as she let out a tired sigh, the piece had ended. He was too mesmerized to even applaud. It was then when she curtsied to him, that he broke out of his trance and clapped. Realizing it was nearing sundown and that they were the only ones in the small chapel, he interrupted the quiet.  

“I fear the weather has taken a turn for the ghastly. Would you like a ride home mademoiselle?” he spoke in a very aristocratic manner.

“Ah! Just the offer I was waiting for my kind sir,” she replied in earnest taking his proffered arm.
Not able to hold it any longer, she let out a giggle at their playful disposition and he joined her. Finally letting themselves out in hopes of searching some abode, safe and sound.

--*--

The weather was exceptionally colder than the last time they had met; this time they were trapped in a small inn due to the sudden snowstorm that had invaded the city. Thankful to have found this inn at some walking distance from the chapel. The wood burning in the fireplace cast a glowing amber about the room, warming it. They sat huddled together on the hard wood polished floor nestling a cup of hot chocolate to warm their insides. They were covered from head to toe, but the shivering was yet to recede as they were wet from the rains earlier and the fresh falling snow.

“I feel like trash. I thought I had one good thing in my life, so that I could start over. I didn’t know that sole being could mess me up more than anything I predicted. Each day I come across things that were mere lies. It’s sickening to know, so bad that unlike last time when I thought I was guilty I now realize I've just been a, prey.” Ayah mumbled eyeing the fireplace.

Yasin let out a frigid breath before taking a sip from his cup. He was startled by the new revelations from Ayah, when she gave him a call a month ago. Patience and time were the only keys to heal her all over again, he realized.

“You just don’t understand how to react. And it’s absolutely understandable that you’re hurting.  Your life in real was never screwed, you gave him the power to rumple it. I daresay it was messed up and confusing but never really screwed.” He responded.

“The more you care the more you suffer. Nada zilch there is nothing that gives people the right to play with someone’s feelings and heart or as a matter of fact taking for granted. I’m sorry for all the troubles I've always caused you, even when you were nursing your own broken heart you were constantly there for me. However, would I repay your kindness?” she cried in earnest.

“Is it something we shouldn’t do then? Care?” replied Yasin, in a tone of surprise and emotion, “Do not embarrass me, for rather I am glad to have been there for you, as you have been for me,” he added after a short pause.

Ayah, still being a bit distracted forged on, “I don’t know, it’s an abstract thing. Care is more important than love. You always love people who you care for but the other way round is not always true. Love can be abusive and obsessive, care cannot.” She paused letting go of the anxiety that gripped her, and forced herself to speak; “I’ve realized not to store my happiness nor sadness in people. They leave us when someone new comes along. And maybe even we leave some. It’s a fast forward world Yasin, you can’t find people waiting for you.” 

The conversation had like always reached a point of vulnerability. There was too much said, felt and left unsaid too.

“It taught me to have faith,” said he, “don’t be too sentimental nor wear your heart on your sleeve. People find it easier to exploit you then. But then again don’t become a cold stoic person, who I was on the verge of becoming. Had it not been your frank temperament and playful optimistic outlook, I would have been lost.” 

Ayah colored at that and let out a laugh as she replied, “Ah! Yes, you’ve seen me at my best and my worst too. I should not have brushed off your affections all those years ago, would have saved me the heartache.”

“I was certainly wary and devoid of wisdom. I am sure if I was more open and persistent, things would have been different. And we would have never had the misfortune to cross people who left us scarred. Then again, in retrospection I believe it was for the best. The past teaches us awfully lot, doesn’t it?” he asked in an expecting manner.

“It does, it surely does,” replied she.

Uncovering his hands from the woolen mittens and doing the same with hers, he swiftly stood up proffering his hand to her, “May I have the honor to secure the next dance? I believe it’s a waltz,” Yasin asked her politely with mischief filled eyes.

It was indeed the music for waltz that could be heard playing down in the inn ballroom. A blush rose on her cheeks as she daintily placed her hands in his, “It will be my pleasure Sir,” replied she with elation as he led her to the makeshift dance floor.

She could not help smiling at his ease with her, their delightful companionship and most of all his invaluable support and guidance in her time of need. Time passed tardily as snow covered the whole town white, welcoming bliss in the peak of winter.

-Fatima

Small Towns

Click clack

The monotonous metro life goes on..

Ignorant secluded

With no one to truly call your own..

Peace serenity

Oh no! You've landed on an alien land..

Truth trust

Please dial the correct code..

Ecstasy contentment

It's to be seen every night and day..

There's so much the quaint little towns can offer

Only if we could abandon the city's galore..

-Fatima

Photo Credits: http://shuttermonks.com/dinesh-maneer-journey-through-indian-villages/

Mon Amie

We are so foolish, so utterly naive that when someone is good to us, we feel they are the sunshine after rain. Red, orange, green, blue like the colours of the rainbow. And no; no talking about lovers and crushes or someone you're simply attracted to. This is someone you think of as a friend. It is important to be a friend before anything else.

Leap of faith, liking someone and expecting them to reciprocate; that's love. But what about friendship? Do we expect there or cease expectations the moment we befriend. What about wanting to be surprised by an unselfish gesture is it too much to ask, from a very close friend? It's all a twisted labyrinth of strewn hopes and dwindling emotions.  All you wished for was a moment of companionship, sometimes it's too much to ask and other-times it's all you need.

-Fatima

Image Source: http://favim.com/image/419029/

A Pair of Shoes

rough worn and battered 

travelling from town to town

now lost in archive 

Photo Credits: Oil Painting - A Pair of Shoes by Vincent Van Gogh, 1886.

-Fatima

Distance

I haven't heard from you
In five months
And twenty-eight days

The soft sigh
After a tiring day

The secret smile
That graced your face

Sometimes mirth
Other times rue

The ones I could listen
Even from miles away

I haven't heard from you
For so long
But your voice still resonates.

-Fatima

Regret

remember the strings?

walk one step coming back two..

sigh, to time gone by

-Fatima

Those Sunlit Nights

Prelude to This

The sun was slowly growing dim. They were sitting on an isolated bench eyeing the frozen expanse of the sweet unsalted lake. Days like these were his favourite; snow laden mountains, chilly winds and memories. He often heard people say, winters harden your heart yet to him they bought warmth. A box of nostalgic memories leaving him barren like his favourite oak tree but wrapped in hope.

Letting out a puff of foggy breath he spoke, "Weird isn't it people could never love you, even though you gave them your everything. And still these are the very same people who eventually fall in love with another, hating you and damaging you to the core. So much damage that the world around you thinks you want love in your life; like a love affair or even marriage out of love. When in reality you are questioning love and the idea behind it, whether you will be loved or will love someone. You're scared.."  he hastily ended heaving a sigh.

She held his mitten covered palms in hers tightly not knowing what to respond. How does a grieving heart mend another? She didn't want to lie or maybe she couldn't. It was a short while later that she began speaking her voice soft,

"Sometimes you're hurt to such an extent that even though tears fall from your eyes, there is no pain in your heart. You are numb and all you feel like is to drown yourself in despair, or to hug someone tightly or if you're like me consume caffeine. But sadly none help, not a single one. Moreover the reason due to whom you're in this state, doesn't bother or maybe never did," although her voice verged the near of tears she continued, "I wish to get wet in the rains and pour out all my tears, maybe, maybe then there will be pain and the numbness subside.."

Time passed languidly as she let the tears finally fall, crying for all those moments that made her nostalgic. She cried, cried for them both and truly letting go of the past. Hugging her deeply, he embraced his present as she did hers too. The mellifluous melancholy orchestrated a symphony in cacophony as the sun lastly set.

-Fatima   

Sequel to This

Absence of Joy

breathing shallow breaths

bare soulless standing all alone

withering away in cold

-Fatima

Winter

snow laden mountains

whizzing wisp of wailing wind

barren land remains

-Fatima

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

To read the full story please click here.

-Fatima

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.    

-Fatima

Part II