29.

I was 29 when i looked back at my life in the last couple years and everything started to make sense

I was 29 when God almost gave me my miracle

And i could fit the pieces of my life like a puzzle 

When i lived through waking dreams and moments so perfect, my heart was full.

I was 29 when i sat in the lawn on a jumah

The sun seemed brighter and the leaves greener

The breeze cooler and a wave of contentment rushing thru me

When i realised

This is what a believer waits for

For the days of sabr to change into days of shukr. This is what strengthens our imaan. 

For us to believe that there is a beautiful ending.

I was 29 when the magic disappeared as quickly as it came

And i stared in disbelief because miracles were meant to last

When i told everyone to wait, that it would come back

Because God doesnt play tricks with His believers

I was 29 when their questions got louder than my answers

And i couldnt reassure them because i needed it more than them

As i held in my hands, every little thing, for the day of my dreams, 

How could i regret it when they were the proof of my good opinion of my Lord

How could i regret getting ready for the acceptance of my dua?

I was 29 when I learnt to cry in my mothers arms

Snuggled up to her like a baby

Placing my broken heart in her aging arms

I thought it would be my head bowed down in gratitude for a long time

Before i needed to ask again

But I was 29 when in desperate hope, i raised my hands again 

When the journey is greater than the destination

 

They say its not about the destination, its about the journey. It’s the journey- the experiences, the memories, the struggle, that we look back at.  But lets be honest, if we didn’t want to get somewhere, we wouldn’t be on that road in the first place.

Sometimes, the road to a place is so long, so winding and so exhausting that it takes away the joy of having reached.  So long that you sometimes lose sight of where you’re heading. So winding that you sometimes doubt yourself. So exhausting that when you reach you have no spirit left to feel the happiness, the exhilaration, the success. Instead, the only thing you feel is relief. Not for having reached, but because its over. Wherever it may have brought you, the fact that you are now done walking is the biggest comfort. There are no more miles to go.

Some people would say those journeys aren’t worth it. But its not about being worth the struggle. Its about your dreams , your plans, your expectations of the end not weighing over the sweat and tears of the struggle. When it takes too long, and it becomes too hard, it seems like nothing can be worth the wait. Because you’ve lost more than you can ever get back. You’ve sacrificed more than you can ever be appreciated. You’ve been broken more than you can build yourself. you’ve hurt more than you can be healed.

Does that mean we stop walking? Or does that mean that we change our destination? It means neither. It means that even though the end may never be beautiful enough to wipe away the scars of the road or that even though the comfort of a waking dream may never be warm enough to wipe away the cold of the nightmares you fought, you walk on. It means that even if your eyes may be too dry to shed tears of happiness as they’ve cried too many tears of pain, you walk on.

Is it always worth it? Who is to say if it is. Maybe, i will tell you once im there.

Falak

From the archives – 17 April 2016

Waiting for.

I was thinking today about patience. Theres two things to it.

The real test of patience is when nothing is in your control. Waiting. Waiting for your body to heal.Waiting for things to get better. Waiting for the situation to change. Waiting for a heart to change. Waiting for someone to come around. Waiting for an opportunity. Waiting for a door to open up.Waiting to find your own peace. Or happiness. Or courage. … how do you wait when u cant do anything? how do you sleep when all that runs thru ur mind is “who? how? what? when? where?” you simply have to watch and wait. as your hands itch and your chest heaves in frustration, your mind tries to think of things u can “do” to make something happen and your heart hopes with every last bit of strength, you realise how truly powerless and helpless we are.Saying Alhumdulillah on days we muster some strength, and whispering inshAllah on days we find none… When you have to step back from your own life and let go. Watch the days, turn into weeks, turn into months.That is patience. After patience, comes tawakkul.

 

but wait for what if theres no guarantee? no reassurance? no promise? what if you dont know what lies ahead? if things will get better? so, the waiting is hard enough but when you dont know what you are waiting for, what is that? i dont know. its terrifying. Wait for what when all you can see is darkness ahead and you dont know if there is light ahead? Wait for what when you dont know where the way is going, if anywhere at all? Where is the comfort in these times? Why bother moving ahead?

Because our hearts and lives thrive on hope. Because the human heart is shameless like that. To be honest, for all my fancy talk, i know very little of the Quran or tafsir. But theres a bit from surah kahf, that i love. I heard it while thinking about all this today, and that, i think, is my guarantee. my promise. and my reassurance. Its out of context, but i know its my answer.

“……ever is the promise of my Lord true.” 18:98.

What promise, you ask? whichever promise you are looking for. For me, it is “For indeed, with hardship [will be] ease. Indeed, with hardship [will be] ease.” 94:5-6. Not only are you assured, but you are reassured, in those words that are repeated.

In these times, you realise what a blessing is the hand of a loved one to hold. Or shoulder to cry on. To hear words of comfort from a familiar voice or a smile that warms your heart. And those who cant find either in these moments, we have another blessing. A loved one to kneel in front of and ask.(Al waduud)

Of course, all this sounds poetic for me to write and you to read, but to live thru it, is neither poetic nor easy. May Allah ease every single one of your pain and problems, because only He knows the struggles we all live thru. May we all be given the blessing of holding loved ones, crying in their arms, comforting voices and warming smiles ❤

My unfinished letter to Ghalib

Aapke baad Ab humein koi khat nahi likhta, Ghalib… Garma ka mausam aata hai aur chilchilati dopharein bina koi aam ki farmaish laaye guzar jaati hain. Ab aam bhi us tarah ke kahan, waqt ke saath har cheez badalti gayi aur har cheez mein aam bhi shumar hogaya. Is saal toh, february ke mahine mein hi nazar aaney lagay the loug sadakoun par aam liye, lekin kya faida? Woh aam toh carbide se pakaye gaye the aur unmein toh woh meetha zaiqa hi nahi, aap khaatey toh bahot udaas hotey, main bhi hui thi. Bahot rona aur ghussa aaya insaan ki jaldbaazi par,yeh haal hai ab yahan ke ache aam mayasar hona bahot mushkil hai. Insaan ki jaldbaazi aur scientific advancements ne toh zindagi se lutf cheenliya hai, choti choti cheezein ab kisi ko khush nahi karti. Khair, insaan ki is fitrat par tafseeli tabserah aapse agle khat mein karoungi.

Sochiye, aap bazaar se meethi meethi khusboo walay aam ghar lekar aaye aur jab kaatkar khaanay lagey toh woh safaid aur pheekey se nikley? Aapko ghussa nahi aayega? Mujhe bhi aaya, shadeed ghussa aaya.

Aapki tarah, mujhe bhi aam bahot pasand hain, aur kaash mere bhi aise dost o ahbaab hotey jo meri farmaishein poori kartey. Ab toh farmaishein bhi mehengi lagti hain. Zaiqedaar Baganpalli ya Baada​​mi aam ab kam az kam dedh sau rupaye kilo se miltey hain. 

Garmi toh hadd se zyada badhgayi hai, aur aise mausam mein bus aam ki deed hi kaafi hai dil (aur dimagh) ko thanda karne ke liye. 
Ab toh, aam se kayi meethey aur mithaiyaan banai jaati hain, par jab main aam ko kisi aur cheez mein milaya dekhti hoon bahot takleef hoti, jab triffle,pudding ya cakes mein log aam ka istemal kartey hain toh uska zaiqa bahot minimal hota hai. Mujhe aisa mehsoos hota hai jaise main aam se bewafai karrahi hoon, isiliye main ghar pe aisa kuch banane hi nahi deti. Aam ko toh bus aam ki tarah hi khaana chahiye. Kuch log toh aise bhi hotey hain, jo aamras mein doodh milatey hain, bhala iski kya zaroorat hai. Kesari, sanderi jaise raseeley aam ka sirf ras hi kaafi hai, ismein doodh milaney ki kya tukk banti hai! Samjh nahi aati inlogou ki mantakh. 
Mantakh se yaad aaya un makhlooq ka jo aam khaatey hi nahi, aur aam ke naam par hi ajeeeb si shakal banaletey hain. Aise logoun ke liye main aksar aapka, “Gadhey hi aam nahi khaatey” wala khissa dhorati hoon.

Night of the Scorpion*

Once, I found a pretty piece of glass, and to say that I was fond of it will be quite an understatement. It had smooth edges, so smooth that I wouldn’t tire running my hands along them. It was always tucked carefully in my bag, but one day it fell and shattered to pieces. 

Pieces, like those of a jigsaw puzzle; I glued them together. But the edges weren’t familiar, they weren’t soft and smooth like I loved them. I tested them against my palm, that didn’t help but it surely left cuts on my right palm. They were ragged. I tried rubbing them against the wall, it chipped the paint off. Then, I wondered if my table could ease them out, but it left numerous nicks on the polished surface of the tabletop. 

Then, I realized, with our little minds and big hearts, we try hard to mend things and we go out of our way to cushion the broken pieces, to rectify our and their mistakes, to restore and undo the damage, but what we don’t see is; in the process of amendment, we hurt ourselves again and again. We bruise our hearts, some things are better left un-mended and broken. If we didn’t have broken pieces, we wouldn’t learn; sometimes, it is better to leave the shards of a glass to be just that. Tuck them away in a safe corner. And just let everything be. Let go and let be. 

*I know this has nothing to do with Nissim Ezekiel poem, I used the title coz I wanted to name this Night of Realization but Night Of the Scorpion was all I could hear in my head. Realization bit me like Scorpion bit Nissim’s mother.