Learning to Fly

Monday, May 30, 2011 by B.H.

I might not go to heaven because the worldly concerns have tinged my life but when the Earth will disband, I’d just hope to get a chance to say hi to you and, I won’t feel good if I didn’t get a chance because, I would absolutely hate it. No explanations. Gandhi said, whatever you do in life – will be insignificant but it’s very important that you do it, ‘cause, no body else will. Just forget the second part. If you could imagine the deeds hidden behind the misty glass of amnesia and people would not have the time to wipe and peek through it. It’d be impossible, like looking for a red dirt grain in a desert. Lost Turkish boxwood filled with memories? So why not stop fixing this jigsaw puzzle and wake up every morning like it’s the first morning of your life and look closely at the world around you and find your place in it? And when the self-deceit becomes difficult and you feel like saying hurtful things, when you’re fed up with practicing nice and fine things; and you neither want to hold on to rites nor try to create something new to follow. It’s all part of transforming into something better, because we’re never finished, we always change, from good to better, from young to old. Every day, you experience new things that affect your thinking process or maybe it’s just me. Setting new digits in my brain as my age, turning from eighteen to nineteen, thinking that I’d be respected, planning to do new things, like…to never spare a kid calling me “Uncle” and not caring about those poor lads I’d called that years ago and especially the ones who still dislike being called one? Life should be more beautiful now that I have turned nineteen, but it’s a shame that I’m still a teenager. Well, life isn’t a cup of hot chocolate. Turning nineteen for the first time and they did not have any lucrative or scholarly birthday gifts to offer me except for one person. But then again, everything is fair like Karma. But I can squeeze the joy out of it. With all the thoughts of love and appreciation that I might never get, I can still make something nice out of it. I will always do what I have always done. Create distance and stick my tongue out to attachments because attachments are the root of all the misery in your life and it’s a liability. Instead I will just smile while watching Ben Ten on TV and playing video games with my siblings, take pleasure in trying to count the spirals of the ceiling fan, in reading newspapers in the hot summers’ noondays while listening to the heavenly melodies of my father’s choice and laughing like hyaenas at the wittiest jokes and crying like babies over smallest of things – with their blown up pinkish chubby cheeks. And remember the old days when we used to watch the shooting stars in twilight with awe. And the dusty yellow pale moon and its shimmering in the pool. And dewdrops on lilies. The musk. And the pleasure while trying to make a goat laugh on Eid-ul-Azha’s day. And the frown of a rose-ringed parakeet. Teenage infatuations and the bittersweet feelings of crimson pain. I will count my blessings and write them down for the time when I will need them. But for now, I need sleep. Lots of it.


Tuesday, May 17, 2011 by B.H.

The crow upon the block on an ardent day

There swiftly perches

And shaft of the light of a higher temperature

Kisses womanly grimace

There lives a soul in frigid hour of mind

Too dull to notice

The nap of an infant – the crowing of a babbler

Remembering a wraith

A shade lingers upon that honeyed soul

As when on noonday

And then drifts away – the another cloud too

As we love to estimate

The consistency of the variable shades

In false mathematics

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Rose petals on grave

Monday, May 16, 2011 by B.H.

Look at you! You look like a happiness-deprived person, insanely coveting the energizing source like you would hope for a frosty bottle of your favorite drink while wandering in a scorching desert. I guess everything would be pretty funny without attachments, I mean that – in both ways. I feel like, I’m caught in a twister; flying around countless spirals. Circles, with no end to them. It’s not pleasant. My fingers scrabble at my throat to loosen the tension of this invisible cord that is choking me and I don’t find it.

I’ve spent my all day hoping that I’d feel better because I have a worldly end to attain. This fever of resentment has affected me worse today but tomorrow you’ll see me at bay. I have so many strangest words to write off – tonight – but I’m not going to do that – like always. Enough poetic bullshit! Why do I always have to sound like a moron? Every cloud has a silver lining and this cloud has one too –– because I have so many things on my list that I won’t even have the time to think about things that don’t matter anymore. And that’s it.

I think I’m okay now.


Thursday, May 12, 2011 by B.H.

Being friends with those guys is worse than picking baby poop and I don’t know why I even compared picking baby poop with something like that, seriously! The other day, I had the sheer misfortune of watching this horrible movie “Yes man” and while I was having that nightmare, they called, “dude, we are going to The Hills to watch the whole city from there. We got everything. You down?” and before I could think of something to say, “Cool. We’ll pick you up.” *hangs up*. And there, I smoothly managed to ruin my day because I thought saying no to things brings bad things in life. Oh how I regret watching that movie. I disdain such “hang outs”, I even hate the word and especially with those emo looking morons! It’s just. Totally ridiculously absurd. And now, I unwaveringly believe the mystical idea of following your heart and staying away from the stuff you know you will regret in the long run. There was an unusual difference in “his” style of telling stories and of ridiculing the others that night. And then they all started saying things I loathe to hear. They were attempting so pathetically to come at each other as if their whole lives were at stake. Oh forget the eating-up-everything-with-bare-hands-and-then-cleaning-the-hands-with-my-awesome-black-shirt because you have become a bare faced jackass, my old chum, what was that all talking of funny clips posted on social networking website part about? Lame. And there were oh-so-pathetic attempts on lamest jokes ever heard. What the heck was that mimicking Mr. Bean part about, while everyone watched you in pity? Why were you smoking tobacco, my old chum? What are you like 17, right? My old chum, you were the worst character and very uncool when you were calling me ‘your boyfriend’ because you had nothing else to bitch about. Now please tell me, which lunatic person proclaimed that old is always gold and old pals are mystically united with a holy thread and nothing can part them when I can see that you’ve become moth-eaten in your hostel in just two years. Sometimes, cute chicks grow into wild and ugly biddies and you’re that wild and ugly biddy and when you’re like that, you should understand that people can get scared to death when you open your mouth. Silence is your only option, it’s golden! And then there were my pals Qz and Saim, who were quiet but they had this huge grin on their faces unlike me, I don’t know what were they thinking but I didn’t find my perfect cushion to fall on – in anyone. Nope.

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Mr. Friendly

Tuesday, May 10, 2011 by B.H.

Maybe, it’s insomnia that’s making me write on my blog when everyone’s catching some Z's. Even though, Daddy told me not to use computer for a month, I’m here. Sigh. Look at me, how ill-disobedient kid I have become. But what do you expect me to do when you know that I haven’t gotten even a pinch of sweet slumber in two 24-hour intervals? 48 hours straight! Not that, I’ve started to look like a zombie or weird looking unicorn or something, I just like to complain, I guess.

Like you know I’m not Mr. Friendly and all. Something happened yesterday, it was one of those days when I feel like hiding myself in some corner away from people or going to my favorite place, that is my room – right away.

It seemed all he knew was that he was having “some fun” so he humiliated me in front of 25 strangers who could easily guess that I just wanted to go home and I didn’t feel safe. Were I not a gentleman, I would have done something terrible. And maybe, that’s why I don’t get attached to people. And from now on, I don’t give a damn. I don’t want to “hang out” with them anymore. Oh well, Lydia says there’s a difference between being funny and being a-hole just for fun. You rock my friends but I’m going to create a little difference and I’m sorry for that. Rejoice! You guys are too great to be my friends. Goodbye. I have so much to write here, good things and bad things but I’m afraid I’m running out of time. Oh well.

In other news, I think I’ve lost my sense of humor. Well, I know, this news is too timeworn and all, like I care. So, we shall be attending 4 weddings this summer. It’s going to be so much fun because, they are all my relatives - my ‘that cousin’ and his sister who also happens to be my cousin LOL! And Brown Suger who happens to be my maamoon and his sister who is my Khala. These are 4 separate marriages with different people. *laughs* Well, that’s enough for now, news when I’m hurt, not when I’m not. Ha.

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Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

Monday, May 9, 2011 by B.H.

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

I’m ready to go; I had fastened the Belt

Too long ago!

So letting it go –– and crossing the brink ––

Bonnets may blow –– in the wind!

For I dwell not anymore –– upon Graven Ink

Old –– we grow with Desires that float to sink ––

Eventually though.

But – dare I steal the quill feather ––

of your white-hot hat, ma’am?

So the ink could flow –– to heal the kink.

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

How odd it sounds!

Like those violet rifts ––

Within the grey clouds in cerulean sky


Goodbye to the life I used to live

Kiss the Flowers and the Hills for me ––

Bid the Rainbows goodbye!

And look upon the times just once

When I tended the daisies for you ––

‘Twas the smallest hour of all

That felt longer than a century ––

Stepped onto the falls together

And brushed the summers by.

I will send You – this Gem from my ring ––

How dim it sounds –– like the murmur of the Bee –– on a rainy day –

Rustle of the fencing –– in the longest night

I’m ready to go to the town –

Strewn with the Down

Where autumn leaves glow as ruby across the walkways

And there! The poetess of my dreams!

Such a small room she keeps.

Almost contented people. Bliss, Oh Lord!

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

How fair it sounds!

When I lie down and hear the murmur of Nature ––

And sleep ––

On the heavenly grounds.

- B. Etch.