The last time I heard this song, I ended up crying really bad, which is strange for a song that is nowhere near sad and which doesn't have a depressing tone. It's actually a beautiful melody, coupled with pretty guitar strings and the soft voice of Arko complementing it well but still I cried.
Coz The first time I heard this song, it wasn't Arko singing it nor was it the finely produced studio version that can be easily found on any of the online music streaming platforms. It was a simple voice recording, without any beat or music, just a young lady singing her way through Urdu words she had no idea about. And somehow I prefer her version over his.
And this girl has no clue how many times I've sat in a corner and weeped my innocent heart out listening to it. And she isn't here anymore to see me failing to gather myself up through every listen, but maybe if the sky has a peephole and my ceiling isn't there anymore, she can catch a glimpse of me.
Normally it takes a little time before I start my weeping session. During the first few seconds, I have this constant smile or rather a memory of the smile I used to wear listening to it in the early days but as the song progresses, my smile starts to crumble and my face collapses into my knees. My cotton shorts are right there to help in absorbing the pool of tears I end up breaking loose.
"Mere dil ke lifafe mein Tera khat hai janiya Nacheez ne kaise paa li Jannat yeh janiya ve"
This line is where I give in, this particular line, is where I'm at my lowest and it's where I take off my earphones to bury my head deeper into my lap. And while a silent sugary voice crawls out of the earphones, it doesn't make it past my ear which is largely populated by my own loud sobs at this point. And as the line suggests that I was fortunate enough to have witnessed this beautiful heaven before my eyes, it fails to mention how I didn't have the luck to keep it with me forever.
What is poetry if not a controlled outburst of suppressed emotions?
What are words if not a swarm of roars before a trudging silence?
we've lived our entire lives, hiding behind closed doors, which are knocked on often but seldom do they get heard. and our voices are likely to be shut down before our words could reach out for help through the medium of air. so we resort to poetry, where we get to print them out safely while staying submerged
some words are thrown around aimlessly while some fit right into the theme. some words are positioned with utmost certainty while some are later replaced by their pretty counterparts. and some poor novices of redundancy are reduced to spaces before our thoughts could take the final form.
And once done, we stand irritably on empty streets with these fierce placards held upright in our palms and dejection taped all around our mouths. our eyes search for another set of eyes to lend us their ears to what our mouths couldn't utter but our fates are sealed tighter than our lips, so what comes our way is nothing but a nonpolite rejection.
the absence clocked up in the empty cradle echoes deeply. the soft lining of the bedsheet awaits for your weight to push against it. i dust it off twice a week, i offer my best efforts to keep it new, to match them with the unboxed toys we've bought for you. they are missing you more than these empty arms of mine, or maybe not. i didn't get the chance to warm you in my embrace, feed you in my arms, kiss your little nose and your smile. ive wailed a river thinking i'll never get to hush you when you cry your own naive heart out.
the curtains covering your window are grey, and mine are tainted with black. yours are dancing on the thin line between light and dark but mine have stopped moving and have broken down. they've hid themselves in the shadows, away from all the shine. just how i hover in the places where there is no light.
love, i miss you badly when i place my hands over my empty belly, it hurts a little. a little or a lot, i can't differentiate it at all. my reality is a big blur with grey patches stitched at every corner. and it's tearing me apart every second im able to breathe holding this empty graveyard in my palms.
//when grief took the place of my young one inside my womb, i was deprived of a chance at having a kin and my kin was deprived of a change at having a life.//
anxiety's a silent drop of water penetrating the stillness of my calm mind, severing the surface with wildness and diving into it, to add up to the volume of chaos that rests dormant inside it. it charges at me like a fanatic, sending across a range of tiny ripples that die even before reaching the shore but it's enough to rattle my mental state.
and pain is like a hot spice that has lost all of its hotness, so it sits steady on the edges of my tongue waiting patiently for the crisis to arrive but it ends up not stinging me as much as it was meant to. It simply dissolves in with my inability to stir an emotion in the hot pot of the feelings i overcooked for myself.
numbness is its byproduct, a strange feeling or rather the absence of it, and it has stuck to my skin for way too long now. it all began with the collapse of a stack of intangible thoughts, starting from the least of dangerous ones to the ones that are unfavourably violent. but eventually it shaped my thought train, sushing the frightened child in me that has recently been orphaned. and as any other orphanage, it took care of me when no one bothered to.
I hope this gives strength to those who can't stand up for themselves. ❤
First things first, I wasn't spreading any rumours, I just happened to talk to a few of your victims, which btw are so many of them. like literally every other girl has been approached by you in this fake trap of love. and i came to know about this very late xd till then there were already a hundred such stories about you. So yea lol im not ruining your name. woh toh tumne khud kiya hai aisi harkate karke. believe me, im actively trying not to get involved in this xd lucky you :P
but i think its high time you wake the fuck up. you should be working on your own behavior rather than blaming people for calling you out. coz for you it may not seem that serious of an offense, it might be fun or relief from depression or whatever the fuck you have, but for the girls it's life ruining, you are fucking RUINING their lives. do you even get it??????? using LOVE for such a vile purpose. and i feel so bad for every girl you start targeting. i feel bad coz i cant tell them how an asshole of a person you are. i feel so helpless.
and you want a war lmao. bruh you're out there abusing girls who aren't even 18. NOT EVEN 18. and YOU want a war WITH ME? LMAO are you stupid enough to believe that none of the girls took ss? xD like are you that fucking dumb? xd
lucky for you, im just trying to lay low. i already have a lot of my own problems to deal with. so im not gonna get more into this. this is my first and last post about you and your issue. it isn't my war anyways, unless you wanna bring it to me :3
just be happy with the fact that the girls haven't fucked you up yet xd you have no idea how many people DESPISE YOU. you should be worried more about them, rather than me. *sighs*
hope you get your act together. and be a better guy. have a nice 2021.
"Is it an animal? Is it a new car?" I wondered. "Nah, knowing dad, that's never gonna happen. So if it's an animal, will it bite me? Will it tear me apart? Possibly! Will it hurt a lot?" several such questions circled around my mind while I was tracing the path towards outside. could have been a dog or a wolf but I was praying it wasn't the latter.
"Hurry up Memp, fir won't eat you." My dad shouted, as if he read the panic and fear from my face.
And in my mind, I was relieved, coz 1. It wasn't an animal 2. And that significantly reduced the possibility of me being getting mauled. 3. I didn't have to go the shop now. He had just made my job easier.
Or so I thought, coz I was right only until I reached outside.
He, had bought, the biggest tree he could find, making it harder not just to bring it inside in that freezing cold but also the thing that was about to follow shortly; decorating that massive piece of wood and leaves.
Apparently my dad was fond of big things, and no that wasn't a silent nod at my mom, even though her weight was significantly on the healthier side of things. And talking about weight, I lost a few pounds myself, trying to bring that mammoth tree inside all by myself.
I dragged it in somehow, courtesy to all the power the 8AM bacon and eggs had provided me with. After keeping it in a suitable corner, I took a sigh of relief and stretched out my back. I saw Sara standing at the kitchen counter in awe, and before she could part her lips, I said quickly, " I call dibs on the top half".
The top part of the tree being smaller in circumference fetched in lesser amount of work needed to be done. But my wife, pretending to be deaf to the sound of my bark, said quietly, " I'm taking the top half, hon."
I lost the bid, being smaller in authority and that fetched in more amount of work needed to be done.
After cleaning the house for about 2 hours, we finally started setting up the Chistmas tree by 5PM.
Everything was ready; the tree, a box of tinsel and candy canes, ornaments, lights, beads and a bright star that would sit at the top. The deal was of 50/50 labour; the bottom half of the tree was under my assignment while she had the task of decoration the top, along with the privilege of placing the star on the top.
I started draping the naked tree with a golden tinsel and she overlapped it with a silver one. Then after finishing the box of tinsel, we went in with the carton of candy canes. The red and white canes, of the size of a small hotdog you get by the street, were thrown in between the mid and the end section of the tree. Then, we clipped ornaments balls on the ends of each branch. They looked like shiny spherical earrings, something that those models from fashion shows would flaunt on the ramp. We hung a garland of charteuse beads on top of the leaves and stuck three socks in the front. One for me, one for Sara and one for my father.
Sara had to stay on the ladder for the entirety of the task and that made me feel less sad about the choice that was snatched away by my wife with cruelty. Suddenly, the bottom section didn't seem that bad.
" How's everything up there?" I jokingly said to her, sitting near the end of the tree with my legs folded comfortably.
" You look smaller than usual", she replied in a soft voice, struggling to stay steady on the steps.
" How's your back?" I poked at her again.
"NEVER BEEN BETTER" she sighed and rolled over her eyes.
"I'd like an update on that as soon as you get down" I requested.
She looked at me with pure hatred, held the stare for a second and mumbled, "Sure thing, babe."
After troubling her for a good couple of minutes, I got up and unwrapped the box of lights. I tied them all around the tree by myself, and that concluded with 95% of the work. The remaining part was the star placing ceremony, the grand satisfaction that I was robbed off with great malice.
Sara did the honours and extended her small hands towards the top of the fir and carefully placed the star on its head within a few seconds.
" Check for the angle, please?" She requested, still hanging at the top of the ladder, "Is it tilted or correct?" Her soft voice echoed like elixir in my ears. She looked at me with innocence and waited patiently to hear me spell out those three magical words.
" It....is......Perrrrfeccttt!" I affirmed with a smile.
She smiled back and got down from the stairs and went "ughhhh" touching her back.
" Thanks for the quick ". I grinned at her.
Everything was now done. It was finally time to give to the tree as it was looking beautiful but incomplete. The lights weren't ! So I went towards the light switch and turned it on. And with a flick of a switch, the room just lit BRIGHT. It radiated warmth like sunshine and to be there, accompanied by people who exhibited affection and love, it felt as if we were visited by the first morning of Summer.
Dad rose from the couch and looked at us with content. He smiled and approved of the tree. "MERRY CHRISTMAS, KIDS!" He cheered with great laughter, as he was Santa himself.
I step on the wire, I believe in pain, deposit polaroids of love in Amsterdam where my night visions evolve from zero and reflect upon the smokin' mirrors that cry battles of history engraved upon thunder and friction, for the dragons of my mind imagine demons, ink monsters and create warriors.
Lost I am in this unconvincing time Of conflicting faith and race, Of deliberate caste and tribe Of hopelessly injuring ownself.
These are the guests at my place Tired I am of managing them Their soullessness and deleterious self They are so demanding and obsessed.
They are teaching my child to unlove To dominate and dictate To curse and to abuse To highlight differences and feel great.
Their impacts are malevolent They are notorious and cruel My neighborhood is disturbed My relatives behave reluctant.
They preach the worst in the name of God They mean the sin in the name of sacrifice They determine the richest in the name of best They show the hell in the name of heaven.
Their stay is the test to check for our innerselves To check our temperament and logical sense If the delicate gift of humanity still prevails ? Are they only sojourners at my place? Or are ménage now itself?
the last patches of fresh sunlight routed away, summer anthems whisked off from radios, and the morning coffee began cooling down sooner.
I tore from my cocoon, to face cold winds against my skin; cold breeze, harbinger of tears; sliding the curtains to the sides, I saw outside, and I saw nothing.
it was Viserion's breath, that enveloped all enclosures in sight; and I strode cluelessly, like a ghost with no history left behind and no history to manufacture, I just walked.
and they say the best poetry is found in the simplest things; I saw something glittering betwixt the thick layer of vague compromising my vision, and had a flashback, of a textbook saying, "beware! all that glitters, is not gold." and I wondered, what if the greed for gold didn't drive me, but the curiosity to find out what sparkles, and parallels the sheen of gold, and isn't gold, so I could push and become that thing, because I sometimes glitter too but they say I'm worthless, because the proverb will always have gold, but I'm merely a piece of corroded copper.
cars zoom past, and the drivers they raise eyebrows, and they smirk and ask, "why do you have to see poetry in everything, what's wrong?" and I fall back on silence, because poetry seeks you and you are a mere vessel, who when breached by beauty is supposed to feel it, and not withdraw, it seeps and soaks like candy in your veins, so how can I not be a romantic, even for catastrophes and disasters? "why do you not see poetry in everything, what's wrong?"
Viserion's cold blood, and freezing skin is scorched from Apollo's wrath, and his mighty breaths retreat, I take the bridge that doesn't burn from passion, and passing, and throw my shoes in the river that travels the world, and kisses the sea at last.
from far, I see the doorknob of my dull asylum, but I spot a swallowtail butterfly swooning in the balcony around a sunflower, and pass the door of gloom, with brazen footsteps, because I know, there'll always be a poem, anywhere, for everyone who craves it.
For once Let's not be olympus falling Or sunken tragedies On mosiac seafloors
For once Be the home I used to visit Call me the bliss, you used to cherish Give me stolen daffodils From your landlords gardens Or the letter you've been planning to give Sing me songs In a groggy baritone At odd hours While my neighbours sleep Or a promise would do Of sweet lies, I'll still believe if you say so But promises, I know Are a cue for leaving And if you do I won't be hurting. Ask me if I like Poetries to proses Charlie Kelmeckis to Alaska Young Kafka Tamura to Theodore Finch And I'll tell you What a runaway I've been Volatile love, fascinates me. For maybe I love too harsh, for people to stay Say too little, to make them believe that way.
For once Tell me If distance is what matters at the end 1700 miles when people say 33 songs, I call them that way For distance feels less, When measured in songs Lesser when heartbreaks take it's place
For, You and me Are anxiety beating In poetic hums We love to repeat
You and me Are broken syllables Trying hard To make up a word
You and me Are kids in love Too young To fathom Forever and trust
You and me Are sore lips That hurt When smile Yet we do
You and me Are a dying hope That still believes We'll make it work
You and me And songs and muse Who hurt and love Yet fail to unite
But you and me together are us And I believe It's enough , to conquer the world.
"Together?", you ask "Beautiful" , I say Of the miles of grass And mixtapes Of Kishore Kumar Aye mere humsafar Of love and desire And friendship We are
We are Not fading lovers
We are flaming rebels Trying hard
We are Not broken oaths Of eternity
We are stolen moments Enough for a lifetime
We are Not textbook perfect lovers
We are A whole new saga, In the making A reality, Myths will bow down to
This is my first POD. I'm dizzy with happiness. Thank you so much for the repost @writersnetwork and @mirakee . I'm honoured. Also thanks to everyone, for their feedback and support. A special shout out to @jerry_21 for unknowingly being an amazing inspiration