The Silence of My Voice

"Everything about you separates you from the people in my life" You said it'll be gnarly, you said it'll be chaotic, But it'll be a ride, You said there'll be longings, you said there'll be greed, But that we'll make it a party, You said I need to give, you said I need to deplete, But it'll be all in good taste, You said you need to lament, you said you need to bruise, But only because monsters need the most spooning, You said you're warped, you said I was abundant, But it all was not unreal, You said it's not all games, you said I'll do the hurting, But no one really had a conspicuous plan, "Only because I've chosen you to hurt me" You said "I'm His Girl", you said you'll serenade me, But there wasn't even an orthodox departure, You said there'll be gestures, you said there'd be plants, But all I felt was belittling, You said there'll be time, you sai...

Hello. Why do we need to begin anew, Why do we clean our slates? Why do we not desist? Why do we feel all the magic? Why can't we fondle that magic? Why are we aching, And when does the soreness ease? Why do we always meet at point zero? Why do we always fetch for those letters? Why can't we unlearn? Why is there an ending, And why don't we just know? Who's going to be beat my dragons? Where's my fairytale? When is it over? When does it become a memory? Do you have minor, unnoticeable feelings? Do you feel in ways where you shatter worlds? What are all these questions, And who's giving the answers? When does the grieving stop? When does the healing start? Do you tell a fib to yourself? When are you ingenuous? Are you diffident? Do you take care of your vulnerabilities? What time is it, And, why are you sleepless? Why are you weary? Why do you tuck away your scars? Why are you combative? Ho...

Dear A, I'm confused as to how to address you anymore.  Have you cached up on more names now? What's the latest sobriquet? More so, are you able to identify now with any of them? And, don't try to distort the truth to yourself, Ask for help, you're going to be in need of it. And, don't go at it alone,  It will be crushingly vexing, And, don't say no incessantly, It'll make you sound uninspiring, Nobody is going to know you whole immediately, So don't be worried if they judge you, You're about to rattle them. And, labouring isn't always going to affirm fulfilment, So let some ambiguity exist. And, you're irreplaceable, as is everyone, So don't care so much. And, you'll make friends, So keep empowering them, They will liberate you....one day. Don't fight shy of feeling, You're going to be jolted for a six. And, you will be marooned, you will be heartbroken, So don't clo...

Hello. It's Day Seventeen! And barely a week to Christmas. It's a heady thought. To be someone's knight. To have someone believe in you so recklessly, you feel invincible. Isn't that what all of us are unknowingly looking out for? For someone to make us seem unassailable? Or is it something they just merely want us to believe? Power, fame, money, love, hatred, friendship, kindness - all in their own capacity yield the unyielded in us. And yet, we are at our rockiest when another human does the same. And it's such a twisted little thing, you know. We are amongst the most evolved. And when something as concrete as a human mind affects another, to make it feel invincible, it's a drug like no other. Perhaps, its the kind of chapter in all of our lives we never recite vociferously. It's that one secret summer from all our lives. Perhaps. And this is not a thought that's too important, but I can't help give it one anyway. Are we made to feel unbreakabl...

The cigarettes let out a bulky quilt against the air that inflated his chest, and he dextrously created stories between them, as he slapped the air for a ghost-less vision. And each time he sauntered through the heavy walnut opening, his past seemed to catch up with its bells high on. The stink of rye, and the stains of scotch. The burn of Cuban spices with the heaviness of the citrus cleanser. The pale, alabaster skin of her derrière, and the impulsive flare of his parchment. The moss of the lamps reminded him of the unripeness of the bedroom doors he squirrelled behind, each night, when the clock struck ten, and his old man in turn struck any visible hide he could find on her body. He'd kill her and bring her back from the white light, time and again. Time and again, he'd push her, praise her, need her. He'd destruct her piece by piece, and make her whole again, until both were gasping for breaths. He'd seen the old man's welts across her back, his...

The hard muscled shoulders were broad in keeping with his height, but it was more the overall virility of the man was so disturbing. And attractive. And definitely scary.  She tried to concentrate, she really did, but she was acutely aware of a hard male thigh against hers, the 5 o'clock stubble on his chin, which accentuated his brand of aggressive masculinity tenfold, and, not least, the bigness of him.  And she was startled back to reality as the conductor shouted out the next stop. Luck, it seemed, had never befriended her. *** It wasn't love that brought his entire brood rushing to his bedside. When his estranged wife, three sons - two legitimate, one bastard - and, yes, even his former daughter-in-law dropped everything at his beck and call, it was not out of devotion but rather sheer disbelief that the man who had launched a financial empire and sculpted their own lives might turn out to be a mere mortal like the rest of them. Time, was no more a friend of his....

Have you ever known, what coming home is like? How would you,  When all you've done, is wander, Through every lane, searching, For truths, fighting them with lies, Pulling your own strings apart, Heartbeat by heartbeat, You will never know, What coming home is like. Have you ever known, The warmth of another soul, The comfort of the company, Of another's silence? When all you've done, Is run away, Thinking of everyone as crowd, Selling your heart out, On cheap street take-outs, While only gathering the lonesomeness, Others had on offer, You will never know, The warmth of another soul. Have you ever known, The disgrace of two parted lovers? How would you, When you believed you two, Could survive apart, But what for, really? Because all you did, Was be terrified, but awed, You will never know, The disgrace, the ache, the abomination, Of two parted lovers. I miss this space a hell more often now....

The previous parts are  here . "You do know who and where he is, don't you?" "Yes." **** She drove recklessly through dense rain cascading the windshield. The cooled interiors of the car crashed against wet screen and fogged her vision. Smirking, she changed the setting to relieve of the fog. She felt like the glass which was clouded to see clearly at what was because of a dishonest family history and her own stupid judgement. For a moment she wished she hadn't touched Walda's diary. For a moment she wished she hadn't gotten herself into this mess. But she would have been unfair to herself and her father had she chosen to flout the affair. And she was right on the track to know he truth. For her father's sake, and more than that, her sake. **** "Maya, ya ullah, you have to throw this stupid idea at once out of your mind, child. If it has shaken you so much, imagine what would happen the the old chap with his grandda...

The previous part is  here. It is one's conviction that permits them to do everything in life. And it was the same conviction that had coerced Wazir to grab Farida's hand and pull her out of the blues. Wazir had taken to Farida the first time itself when he'd seen her. Her brazen honesty had shocked him like no other. He'd expected her to inquire him about his life and work till now. But her confession about being pregnant was the first thing that blurted out of her mouth, and he was completely taken aback. And he knew he had to, wanted to do something for her, marry her. He knew he had been in love with her, and her child, from the first moment on. Their first meeting. It all came flickering like a wispy life before death. The sound of Maya had never been so grave.  The hour hand moved half an inch as the clock struck 5:30. Maya should have been there. Wazir was starting to worry now thinking she might not have been caught over-speeding again. And he heard the s...

With the wind blowing through the feeble quip in the glass, she continued to flip through the primal sides of her grandmother's   diary. Every time she crossed it, it's whiff sent her about for a toss. Although manners had taught her to impart people their share of privacy considering she was a private person herself, she couldn't refrain from opening it. There was always a stillness that surrounded her each time she fondled it. Leathery, tattered, tanned, it's yellowed pages compelled her to consume each word into her soul like they meant something to her. Slowly unleashing each page of the diary, like unlocking a chest full of jewels filled Maya with excitement. Encountering each day of her grandmother's, she laughed because for Maya her grandmother was an enigma, who had all the time for adventures in her life. Until one page caught her attention. Emptying the contents of the page into her mind, Maya tried emptying them into her little sphere of belief too, but...