Written this two days before Ramdan, editted and posted here 🙂 critic is always welcome.

having slept early last night vowing to wake up at the crack of dawn, the eye opening ceremony revealed 5 47, a very serene morning light made its way to my room as i became gradually aware of the fact that the fajar time was passing fleetingly and that also made me realize my vow i made the night before. nothing however, encouraged me enough to jump out of bed, recite the dua, march to the bathroom and offer salat. I guess this ordeal is about to deliberately fall in the abyss of absurd immoralness, lose the track of iman/faith/dogma/believe and for once swagger between the rationality and irrationality of ibadah.
I am doomed.
and most sad is the fact that this facet is conscious, just to fall as low as possible harboring the desire that Ramdan will somehow revive in me the zeal i savored for long, that i boisterously possessed, cherished and thought will always remain, which however passed as quickly as i never thought it would.

i re slept, to dream about the nonexistent beings, non-existent feelings, non-existent non-existence. I drown deep into the fake fakism and nihilistic nihilism. nothing exist. eulogy to my narcissism.

re-woke at around 9 15, the time i should be at office, ideally. Jumped out of bed, and would later lean to the stupidly puffed face and eyes that appeared in the mirror. did not iron my abaya, the practice i had been accustomed to for a week or so, put thick layer of kohl to conceal swollen eyes, i’m wearing kohl more now, more than i ever ever did. i dont know why is this for.

I took time in doing everything, plaited my hair instead of the customary bun i do, took out the most worn out abaya, the only difference was my new chappals.

I made it a point to be late. too late to be late, guilt was overpowering me again, and still when i reached office none of the seniors had arrived, i was partially relieved, partially frustrated.

The song i randomly heard at in the morning kept on reverberating in my mind, which i shamelessly acknowledged, having my eyes fixed at the thick purple clouds overcasting the skies and the brilliant green that is littered at the hills, silence obstructed me. I kept on reading stupid random blogs at gprs.

very reluctantly completed the tests i was supposed to do, kept on blaming everyone for everything that went wrong and that didnt go wrong, drank awfully too sweet tea and wondered the wondering.

i was empty, the kind of empty that echo everything, and my idiosyncratic everything means sadness. i paid a tad too much attention of every one passing by and desperately tried to make your face in their faces, i am not used to looking at people’s faces specially when i am driving and when i am thinking.

i find it irritating, the ordeal of looking at others. but today i elusively made it a point too. I sought for you in everyone. I think it is partly because of you too, my slipping is because of lacking the mentor that you so much used to be for me.

so then, i didnt want to work, the wave of nostalgia that drowned me a week back was still dragging me to deep waters and i found myself scratching old memories I’d dumped to mourn later. Lay-ter. my later was not never. My Never was later. So, I threw them, consciously aware, in the dank gloomy corner to rot, so that i would take them out later, when the realization that living without you was so much possible, would atleast become less painful if not painful at all. and the I, presumably valiant enough to bear all the broken jagged pieces of self, moved on to the course of perfunctory life.

Maybe the reluctance came at other thoughts and facts like that i saw my-would-be-could-be-prospective better half’s picture last night. i told mom i was not interested in being into such relationships. the relation with pictures and email ids and phone numbers.

I hadnt been online for a long time and pretended that i didnt want to in the first place. i reckon i have stopped persuading myself with my own stupid vindications.

I struggled with tears, with the nightmarish reality and almost real dreams, surreal, i could almost touch it, taste it, feel it and own it. Almost.

Then he gave me another stupid test to make and even upon my telling him that it is useless, he insisted. So I made faces and did it. Living has become lying blatantly for me. The irony of my breathing is that my truths metamorph in sheer vicious lies. the jukebok of paradoxes i possess makes me the joke that i am to myself in my head and beyond. The jovial self is thin peel over the crude-skin monster taht I am. an avid dreamer is escapist, who try to run from reality and hide in the invisibility she’s created for herself. the silent. the empty. the i.

Feelings do surface in the perfectly calm seas like sea-serpents, but then they’re too ephemeral to understand, consider or even feel it. SO, I the very garrulous, with absolutely no desire to speak words, switched to this pixel nebula to satiate the desire of doing the talking.

My plan for Ramdan is done, and I with all my heart, want that this time i do accordingly, that this time i learn to improve and improve as well. and i no longer get caught in the trite rituals without soul, without purpose, without the divine intoxication, amen.

I got an early off. so, I came down, sat in the car again wrongly parked, heeded to the market which was full of people, freakishly i reversed to get back home instead, past the adnan sidiqqui’s angry poster, past the bubbly’s child’s picture, past the lemoun pani wala, past the crowded marketplaces, past the man who’s new car i was about to hit, past the happy and seemingly happy people shopping for ramdan, past the birds, past my loneliness, my stupidness, my madness, my in-capabilities, my my-ness, my life.

i drove into the sun.

Just to keep the track of things,

My head is literally pounding and eyes burning, arid, dry. I have just done the cucumber therapy and if it won’t work I will get some rose-water treatment to it, owing to the weather the head says… but my heart’s telling a different tale. 

I’ve met her yesterday, someone I have never heard of, never seen, never thought of too, but she would turn out to be someone I have dreamt of becoming one day, too amazing for words, MashAllah. 

She’s roughly 58, very young-like old, fresh, with a halo of noor about her, and tenderness. She’s called Iffat, I dared not ask her surname, but she was someone I wanted to cry in the lap of! She told us that she’s selling the ‘extra’ furniture of her home, even though it was very dear to her but Allah SWT forbids to hold love for material objects, she wants to drag it all to bare basics, and also lowering the level of what exactly she thinks of bare basic! Inspirational!

Her’s was a simple home, way simpler that I have seen, and considering the fact that she’s quite rich, it was all marvelous, somewhat unbelievable too. She would tell us about the Quran classes that she had been giving, wow SubhanAllah, I knew she’s special ! 

She would tell us about her childhood about her family’s association with Maulana Moududi about how she got married when she was 15, about the migration and about her business that she would start to help the poor widows working in her home. And then she would tell us about him, her eldest son, who was born in 1971, and who is a martyr now, died in Allah’s way in Afghanistan. MashAllah, she would show us the picture too.. the very very quick glance that I had of him wasn’t good enough though, I don’t remember much of him now except a peshawari topi and light beard and the most amazing face I would be seeing, he is afterall the chosen someone, I wanted to ask her about his name but couldn’t thinking that it might be blasphemy! And the way she was telling about her eldest son, a young son…. Allah o akbar!!  with pride, you know, proudly! instead of grief that I would have expected! 

I wanted to hug her, tell her to pray for me, meeting her was heart wrenching, verily the people Allah SWT loves are different in their everything! This is something which isn’t leaving me.. its been a day and a half that I met her, yet it all seem so fresh, so real.. so un explainable! 

I dono why I wrote it here, but I pray, I pray that the track I was once a traveler of, and the track that I so boisterously left, may call me back. I wish if I return to what I had been, that now appears as once upon a time! 

Allahuma Aghfir va ar ham va an ta khair ur Rahemeen!! Amen suma amen!

spiritually and Iman-wise, very very low, and hoping and praying for a resurrection!

asbah.