For Phuppa Jan & his swing.

Years have stained those creaky chains

That hold one little, square plank of wood

I sit down, one last time; a gale of wind pushes back my hair,

And I, in turn, am pushed back in time.

My eyes take in the panorama of dingy little buildings

that I can see here from the rooftop,

Creak; sounds the swing again,

The creak of all the looming memories, corroded by death.

An image of a little girl, dressed in a puffy frock,

Racing to catch the first taste of the wind whipping her face, before anyone else,

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, she takes her flight,

And a crowd of weary voices - high-pitched, protesting voices - envying her flying feet, that they wanted to be theirs'.

"Turns! Everybody take turns!" Uncle's glowing face appears in the doorway,

Streaks of white already sneaking into his disheveled hair,

All it took was a pair of chains and a piece of wood to hang,

But these chubby, little legs clamor to get on board this lovely little treasure.

The scene dissolves, and here we all are, dupattas serenely resting on our heads,

The boys shying away- gentlemen couldn't, wouldn't make their way into this particular crowd of girls, no matter how much they want to.

And still I was the fastest to get hold of the chains before anyone else

My dupatta gliding behind be, roused by air, and I, roused by the impatient looks of onlookers, still waiting for their turn.

And again, an image visits my mind; an image of lots of little legs again,

Squealing, cackling at their evident win of the swing from the grown ups,

Who've grown far too old, apparently, to wait for their turn.

And their mothers and father smile coyly, perhaps old images and scents and feelings, flooding their mind.

"Uncle, Uncle!" Shrieks of delight.

He laughs whole heartedly (his hair is now pearly white); wonders how this dismantling swing could

ever have brought about this joy.

It was made with love, after all, maybe that was it.

I look up expectantly, waiting for the same, glowing face,

To appear in the door way, only to be embarrassed by my own foolishness.

It's gone. No one ever dared laugh in this house again.

It is far too much polluted by old tears shed & forgotten.

One last time, I hold on to the chains, and take my flight.

Back and forth, back and forth, just stopping short of the flickering tubelight.

Higher, and higher - push me into that fleeting embrace of bliss, won't you?

And higher - take me somewhere I won't feel gagged at the sight of this emptiness.

I'm alone, and on my own. The talks of sale, purchase, demolishment taking up my mind.

I see the chains are on the verge of breaking and the wooden plank is cracked.

What I cannot bear is that no heart will ever again feel the euphoria of being air borne on this rooftop -

Eyes lit up, feet in sync, nostrils flared, wind in the face and you against the world, holding onto a swing, made entirely out of love.

Rupture.

Fragments in a whirlwind, carried by the breeze,

Blown into far off, distant lands that I can't seem to reach.

I'm lost in all the clutter, but still rooted to my spot,

Should I try to seize these parts of me, when they weren't what I sought?

A rupture of all that I am - or what I used to be,

Disintegrated chunks take place in sync with every far flung piece.

A flood of thoughts I couldn't think before, now meddling with my brain,

This unfamiliarity of myself is driving me insane.

And all that leaves is still incomplete, it's broken in it's way,

Then what is left when all brokenness drifts so far away?

I'll sit and stitch these unacquainted parts, I'll let them settle down,

But I can't find the same innocence in every scene & sound.

Dear You,

Back when I was in grade 3, we used to be best friends. I remember feeling so embarrassed that you had patches on your clothes and lived in a small, forlorn house beside my own that had only four walls. But I wasn't embarrassed on account of feeling shame in being with you, I was just embarrassed because I felt shame in showing off what I had that you did not. But you didn't seem to notice, and lingered in the garage outside the main door, waiting for me to come out.

In the evenings, I'd come out and play with you all kinds of nonsense. I'd show you my story books and we'd pour over them seriously until I had to leave. You were so small, even smaller than me, but you were the elder sister to all your little siblings, and you carried them about with a laugh playing on your face. Your chocolate brown skin that seemed to always radiate with mischievousness was so endearing to me. So we sat at the doorstep and we talked about things I do not remember, but when we parted we made our way to two different worlds. Me to my bed, food, blankets & books and you to your barely roofed, overcrowded house.

Then one day, your mother brought you inside the house and watched over to see if you washed the tiles like she wanted you to. And then the dusting, the sweeping, the cleaning. At first I thought of it as nothing, because we'd always find time to be in each other's company in the evening, but one day it stopped. Your mother had you work in a house nearby, just like she did, and then you were busy with cleaning all the time.

On a Sunday, I was walking to the park a few feet away and you met up with me, same as ever. But then the most dreadful thing happened. While we were making up nonsense like usual, the group of children nearby advanced on you and pounced, beating the life out of you. One of them shouted a horrible word and then you ran for life. They called you scum. They thought of you as scum.

Your family moved away from your little hut, and I can never really recall the last memory I have of you. It is all just a jumble. Today when I was reading A Thousand Splendid Suns, I thought of you. I thought of the horrible life you have to lead, even though you have grown far too used to it to think of it as horrible. You must be my age now, younger than me, but already you have had to making a living, struggle for the basic necessities of life, you're overshadowed by your brothers and before you know it, you'd be forced to marry against your will. Do you not have the right to love and live? Do you not have the right to happiness, in any kind? You were beautiful as I knew you, but you, you turned victim to a society & a culture that considers you absolutely nothing.

You take beatings even when you're trying your best, your way of life is forced onto you and still you live. And from the stories I get to know, some of the things you go through are done upon the name of religion. The kind of thing that the Western media emphasizes. . Obviously their distorted views of our culture and religion come from this sort of lowly behavior of the uneducated men & women of our age. What kind of faith would a person have if he were to make you act against your will and block every opportunity of some kind of peace, of content? But you know what? Allah ta'la watches over you, I know He does. What can you claim of this life when it is like the wing of a mosquito when compared to the life of the Hereafter. Don't fret, if Allah wills, you will get far better things in a life that will last forever.

I promise to never look down upon anyone that is like you. You are so much more stronger than me, and have so much strength to go through things I'd fail to make through. And I am pretty sure - with your chocolate brown skin and dark, black eyes and a dangling black necklace made of cloth that danced as you ran - you are still beautiful. I hope you think of me as a friend.

Love, Always & Forever,

Aaisha.

I am the change in me.

I believe in this dimming light, this paper thin facade,

And all that's crumbling to the ground, never to be found.

I believe, through blinding fear, we will find a shade.

I believe in the aching want of hope in every sound.

And as this terror roars and rages through our very minds,

Engulfing any remnants of peace that it may find,

I still believe, by grace of God, I'll make it through this time,

My place is where I am right now, I know I will be fine.

Because I, I am a warrior, in all the righteous ways,

I, I am a fighter and though you deem me doomed,

I, I will survive and find my better days,

And I will find my way through all the dark that looms.

I am the change the world will see,

I am the change in me

I am the lover in lunacy,

I am the dream you dream.

I am in every corner, I am everywhere,

I, I am a soldier, a soldier for myself.

I am the only one who can conquer this despair,

I am the person, who I will always help.

I am in You, I'm in your core,

I am in every soul that lives,

I'm your courage that will soar,

I am the something that will give.

I will unwind the right from wrong,

I will reach my goals,

Because I believe in all these songs,

That echo from our souls.

*Scratches head* So....this is actually better than most of the things on here. I wrote this when I was 12. Well, this is awkward.

Clear as it was, the morning light,

Swayed away the gloom of the night,

The voice of birds chirped out at the dusk,

The fragrance of flowers, just like musk.

A deer crept by, treading on the leaves,

Rustling the grass below its feet.

The season of spring, and that familiar breeze

Soothed and comforted, much to its ease.

A rabbit peeked out from its little hole,

Happiness pressing onto his gentle soul,

What else could replace this lasting wind,

And the hazy chill of the season's wind..

A squirrel peered out to the morning sun,

Spring was back, oh what fun!

The skip in its step, and that happy smile,

And that delightful little glint in his beady eyes.

Cherishing the joy, cherishing the sun,

The spring revelation comes back again,

Nature's gift and the year's surprise,

Turmoil perishes, and the smiles survive

Where do I run?

My refuge is broken down,

Wounded by a lie.

It's crumbling down,

And here I am

Shattering by it's side.

My eyes, in every moment,

Search for a

helping hand.

But since this shelter

self destructs, I am on

Unknown lands.

Momentary illusions

build my hope

again.

The distortions, they all

fade away, and then what's left

is pain.

I could erupt from

intensity

of all the things in me,

In control of

distant visions, fluctuating

memories.

By instinct, I look up,

and raise my hands

to God.

He could cure a deeper wound,

and take me with

my flaws.

And how strange it is

to find Him through

a growing pain

Maybe He led me to you

So I'd find my

way, again.

I am made of
little dreams
stitched together
seam by seam

Of heart and brain
that collide
of intense feelings
glorified

Of eyes that see
the grace of God
& speech that makes me
very odd

And some syllables
strung by thoughts
Is what
I'm made of.

A letter to no one.

Dear You,

I feel so bad when I realize afterwards that I've been whining, even if it's to myself. I am so lucky to have a body, to have a mind, a functioning heart, functioning organs, and I still find the room to complaint. I mean, I make so many mistakes each day and still Allah does not take away from me anything. What could I do, if He took away my eyesight when He was angered? It is like, I do not even realize that what I am living right now is a blessing.

Somewhere today, I read that seven funerals had been carried out from a single street in Lyari, Karachi. If I am not grateful for everything at this point, what have I become to be? And what is the life of this world that I sought after, if it is just a drop of water in a whole ocean? I need to keep reminding myself again and again that it would be horrible to complain about just about anything.

In the Quran class some days ago, someone mentioned that this test we are taking in the form of Life itself, Allah has provided everyone with the course, the Quran, and a pen and a paper: his or her thoughts & deeds. Then does it matter if there's something minor missing? Like an Air conditioned hall, or comfortable seats in my examination room? Does it really matter when all I'm supposed to focus on is the Test I'm taking?

I feel horrible when I realize that I've been thinking about myself too much. I somehow end up being ungrateful inside my mind even if it's as minor as a scolding. I should appreciate everything so much more than I do. I live in a world where people have no food, no clothes, no water, no electricity, no knowledge, no guidance. Then who am I to be an ungrateful little twat? It is so extremely stupid of me to set my heart on the little things, the things that do not even matter in front of God.

And again, thanks for listening.

Love,
Me.

A letter to no one.

Dear You,

I don't know who you are or where you are, but I know that you will listen to me. So I will write to you.

See, it's been exactly a year today, 18th August, 2011 that my Ammanji passed away. Calling my grandmother Ammanji was most comfortable to me even though Baba had tried me to get to call her Dado or something like that. But the former always had a nice ring to it.

Anyway, where was I? So, today, I don't know why, I miss her more than ever. I didn't even realize it's been a whole year since that happened. It is one of those days that is etched in your memory forever, whether you like it or not. But I miss her. I miss her smile, I miss her presence, I miss her everything.

I know she had to go back to Allah at her alloted time, and that no one could change her fate even if they tried because Allah willed it to happen last year. Nevertheless, it is so strange to have become used to a life where you don't feel her being there. Her frail, old hands grasping mine with love. And even though she couldn't speak towards the end, whenever I sat beside her, she always looked at me with that glint in her eye that made my heart ache.

The thing is, while she was leaving, she taught me the most important lesson in my life. While her soul left her body and I was just left standing there, aghast, watching it all happen, I realized that life is what death takes away in mere seconds. It made me realize how temporary my body really is, how temporary we all are. It made me realize that the next breath I breathe could decide my fate for the Day of Judgement.

I just hoped she knew always how much I loved and cherished her. I dearly miss her. And living in a house without her is just so strange even though sometimes, I'm too busy with my life to notice it. And that makes me sad in the strangest of ways.

But life? Life has gone on.

Thanks for listening.

Love,

Me.

Endeavoured Speech.

In thoughts I've found all my peace, in thoughts I've found my pain,

I bide my time wandering about the world inside my brain.

I climb aboard all trains of thoughts, they take me far away,

Somewhere that's not reality, somewhere I cannot stay.

I can craft them into words and rhymes, but all inside my mind,

For when it comes the time to Say, I am the shyest of my kind.

I cannot say to you, that I'd love to flee from here,

I cannot say to you, the things I've always feared.

I cannot say to you, I am at war within myself,

I cannot say to you, that I'd love for you to help.

I cannot speak coherently, the wonder I find in you,

I cannot speak entirely, that you do not have a clue.

I spare my speech, it's endeavoured by whatever I may think,

I shrink against the tides of talk, I shrink & shrink & shrink.

I am alive, within my heart, within my overflowing mind,

Now if words could flow at such rate, wouldn't that be fine.

I was re reading the posts on this blog from a few months ago and it made me realize that everything is changing so quickly that it is almost scary. It is like I live a completely different life, and I didn't even realize everything was evolving into...something else. How have I become used to this life? I have no idea. I have no idea where everything has gone. I have nostalgia of things I didn't even realize were going away. I have so much more to treasure and so much more to miss. SubhanAllah, Allah ta'la works is strange ways. But what ever happens is by Allah's decree. So Alhumdulilah.

It's all just starting to hit me. Especially when I talked with Sarah yesterday. And I always forget, but I have to remember: Allah wills everything.

Intent gaze on this hourglass, the grains of sand, they slip away,

Vivid pictures and distant sounds that were never meant to stay.

And I look behind, I'm standing now, where I'd never meant to be,

I look behind, to my surprise, I see traces of my dreams.

I look behind, it's a world apart, albeit too familiar to not know,

I think that things are changing, that I have come to grow.

The path I'm on, is strange to me, where will it guide me to?

How far is it leading me? From us? From me & you?

Every time I look behind, I lose a little time,

Every time I lose my time, I fall a little behind.

I will walk on, I may look back and wish we weren't apart,

As for me, I will but always miss you - with all my soul & heart.

MYY Pakistan. =D :)

I don't need you. I don't need anything that diverts me from my path. I have a purpose to my life and I know that purpose very well. All it has to it is to please Allah SWT and work for the day of judgement. What else am I here for? Most certainly not to please you. I am me, and no one understands that as well as Allah SWT does. No one can come close to His love. And it's not like you're here for anything different. Do you even know? That you're going to be accountable? For everything? I know I am no one to preach, I make mistakes, I fall down and give in to Shaiytaan's whispers, but it's just that you make me sad. You make me sad inside. About myself. And I know I have been blessed so much, with a mind, with a family, with friends, with everything. Then why do you make me feel different? Wallah, I have no idea about the life you lead. I have no idea about what problems you face. Or what made you this way. My thoughts should leave you alone, but they simply can't. Why can't they? Why can't they leave you alone? Why am I creating this all for myself? So much goes on in my mind and I wish it did not concern you.

:D I had a pretty good day at College, finalllyy. It isn't really all that bad, it's cool. But I miss my friends. And my class. And how they had come to learn to accept me in all my awkwardness. And I find making new friends excruciatingly awkward. :| But Alhumdulilah, I'm learning ebberyday. :D Things aren't the same anymore but I'm starting to accept that they can't ever remain the same. Insha'allah, I'll learn to adjust. But I'm still pretty happy the weekend's here. :D

What do you see in me?

What do you see in me? Someone who'd rather not be here?

Someone who lives in ignorance or someone who lives in fear?

Do you think that I am dull & quiet in my ways?

Do you see a complete lie that's etched upon my face?

Do you see that all my thoughts wander far away?

Do you ever wonder what I would have to say?

I wonder things about you, I think and think and think,

I don't have courage to blurt it out, so I only shrink.

But I really, really wonder, what you think of me,

Or if you just look past this face that you do not really see.

Okay, seriously, why do educational institutions do these things to my brain? :|

It's all a bit of a blur of memories in my mind.

"Free..is all you gotta be. Dream dreams no one else can see. Sometimes, you wanna run away, but you never know what might be coming round your way - yeah, yeah, yeah." A surge of warmth fills me when that echoes through the plane.

**

I wake up sleepily at around 4am for our first Sehri. The familiar uplifting atmosphere comes immediately into effect. The urge to smile more often, to be kind, to forgive, to pray, to worship. I can feel it rising within me. Free from Shaiytaan for a whole month.

**

A drawling voice on the plane announces that it's 47 * C outside. I exchange looks with my Ammi but there is a strange sense of adventure knowing that I will not be able to keep my feet on the boiling ground for more than two seconds at a time.

**

The driver points out Mount Ohd on the way. Just thinking about what took place here sends chills down my back. We reach the hotel and the huge banner at the front door reads, "Ramadan Kareem." I smile. I walk in. Instant relief as the A/C cools us down. My thoughts wander to when the hijrat took place, in this very heat, on these very grounds. They didn't have A/Cs back then, now did they. How strong their faith must had been, only Allah knows.

**

I draw the curtains from the window. I am immediately taken aback. I did not realize I could see the Harum (Masjid un Nabwi) from here. Hundreds, thousands of tiny black & white dots making their way towards the magnificent golden doors. It is all so profusely breathtaking. I can hardly wait to join the multitude and take my place in one of the thousands and thousands of rows in prostration.

**

Comfortably asleep on the sofa. The first Adhan ( the tahajjud Adhan) echoes through the streets of Medina. As Salatu Khair um Min an Noum. Prayer is better than sleep. I wake up with a start and see the food ready for Sehri. Alhumdulilah. Afterwards, we reach the masjid once again. We do not manage to find a place inside the masjid, like usual; it is absolutely jam packed. And then the Iqamat resounds throughout the place, and everybody starts to stand up. It reminds me of children scrambling to get to their feet on the call of a mother. And then my favourite part of prayer; when the whole masjid echoes Ameen and I imagine the ground shaking with such perfect harmony.

**

We set out for our first iftaar in Medina. We finally get a place inside the masjid and that too because we'd set out two hours earlier. We'd walked in with absolutely nothing. A beautiful, black girl in hijab pulled us away with a smile and made us sit down beside the laid out dastarkhwan , delicately set with bread, yoghurt, juice and dates for iftaar. I feel something so much more than gratitude as I look around and everyone seems to be doing the same thing. Nobody is concerned about themselves, they are only concerned about giving and giving as much as they can. It is overwhelming to say the least, to see this throng of complete strangers treating each other like brothers & sisters like the brothers & sisters we truly are. We walk out with a full stomach.

**

After Isha'a and Taraweeh, we go home tired but grateful and I collapse on the sofa. I roll over and think about how amazing this life is. Scrambling to get up and get going to the masjid five times a day, seeing the Quran being read every hour of the day, seeing people come together on the basis of their faith & what I find most beautiful is I prayed and ate iftaar with Somalis, Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Malaysians, Fillipinos, Japanese, Americans, Britishers, Chinese, Afghani - literally people from all over the world harmonizing over the fact that our God is one.

**

Hassan bhai leads the way to the ground of Ohd, where the battle of Ohd was fought. And you can just feel that looming sense of tension that grips the air, the sense of battle, the air whispering the sounds of war. It is incredible.

**

The drive to Mecca is a long one. We're now in our Ihrams and we have to abide by it's conditions. It is iftaar time soon, but we have no food in the car. All of a sudden, packets of food are flying in from the window and five minutes later we have more than we can eat. Dates, cake, water, juice, rolls, etc etc. Alhumdulilah. The generosity of these people is more than overwhelming.

**

I see the Ka'bah. I see it. I see it. And there are no words powerful enough to describe what I felt in that moment. Rabbana Atina Fid Dunya, wa hasanataon wafil Akhirati wa hasanton waqina azab an nar. O Lord, grant me the good of the world & of the Akhirah and protect me from the torment of the hell fire.

**

The last round of the Tawaf. I am still in awe. I am still enchanted by this place far too much to think straight. And there are thousands of people doing the same thing as me, just worshiping like dutiful slaves that we are of Allah SWT.

**

I can feel my feet starting to ache as we make our way from Safaa to Marwah one last time. Ammi smiles at me from afar, she has already done her Sae'ee in a wheelchair. I find strange comfort in the ache that is taking over my body. Ya Allah, reward me for this.

**

There is absolutely no way we can find our way into the masjid. Baba says there have to be about 10 to 20 lac people here. God knows how they all fit in here. I watch from my window, I can barely see space to walk. From up here, it is like millions of ants trying to make there way out of nowhere. Atlast we reach the basement of the Harum, and we finally find place to sit there. People nod and smile at me from afar and I return the favour.

**

Ammi is tired and she feel suffocated so she wants to go back agter 8 rakats of taraweeh. We are about to stand up to leave when we hear Sudais' voice filling the masjid. Ammi immediately sits back down. Nobody would want to miss this. Oh the enchanment of the prayer that Sudais leads. The enchanment of Mecca altogether.

**

Fajar, Zuhr, Maghrib, Isha'a, Quran, dikhr, iftaar, sehri. And Baskin Robins. That is ALL there is to the day. And what wonderful, wonderful days they are. I wish they'd last for ever.

**

Last day in Mecca. I cannot even take in the fact, so I just let it go. It hits when we are back in Jeddah and I realize I don't have to hurry to get ready for Maghrib anymore. The airport is expensive so Baba gets us dates & water for iftaar. We feel hungry. A few moments later, we're sharing our iftaar with everyone. I wish the spirit of Ramadan never goes away.

**

A familiar, humid breeze whips my face as I head out of the brown doors. Sarah & Marium are already there, waiting for us. I only just realize how much I missed them. We make our way home and there it is. Same as ever. The thing is, I am not the same. I've seen what life is removed of all the distractions and all that misleads me. Life with a purpose. Life as it should be. And the thing is, I hope to hold on to all of it.

Farther than you'd been.

A distant look that fills the eyes, a feeble shake of hand,

Memories scrubbed & washed away, like castles made of sand.

And now we stand few miles away, but you're farther than you'd been,

I'm searching for someone in you, that simply can't be seen.

Life leaves it's mark, it's wounds, it's scars, and scratches through & through,

And in the end, it has left a world apart, between me & you.