Thursday 31 December 2015

Random Thoughts #1



No, I do not have a best friend. I’ve only got a friend who I discuss my love life with. I talk to her about my crushes and the stupid situations that I often think of. She makes me believe that she listens to them intently but no, she doesn’t. She listens only when it’s something that she is related to. I know, this will hurt, but this is the TRUTH. I do not have a best friend; I just have a friend who I text when I have no one else to talk to. When everyone else if offline, I check if you are available. Yes, of course there is nothing to talk about. And the fact that we meet almost every day makes this be. And no, I do not have a best friend.

You say you know me better than anyone else. I say that too. But when I think about it, it feels like you do not know me AT ALL! Do you know what I dream of? Yes, you may say. You have never heard any of my dreams completely. I start to tell about it and somebody else pings you and you turn to them. Because any way, I’m going to stand there, in the same place to continue the story I started. During the break that you let me think about my dream, before blabbing it out, I changed the plot. So, no, you do not know what I dream of.

Do you know who I think of before sleeping? Do you know what I do when I absolutely do nothing productive? Do you know how I feel about my mother and about my family? You don’t. I had tried telling about this to you, coz' I thought you might want to listen. But no, you didn’t. The girl who hates you had to tell you about the reason behind it and it was much more interesting than my sad and complicated background.

It might hurt a lot, but the truth cannot be misled. I was alone before, I am now, and somewhere I know, that I will be till the grave. I say it now, without hesitation, that you my friend know me more than any other person alive, but no, you are not my best friend.

P.S: When the writer inside you wants to come out and there’s not even a single drop of pain inside you, you need to create one: Over thinking helps.  

#StyZie

Thursday 24 December 2015

Does Love Exist?



I came home and was about to take a nap, as I was tired from the daily chores, when my cell phone rang. It was my friend. She wanted to meet me at the basketball court. I said I was tired but then her voice restless and agitated. Something was definitely not right with her. I rushed as soon as I could.
She was banging the ball hard and kicking it, as if the ball had done wrong to her. I ran towards her, holding her hands, I hugged her tightly and she resisted. I still hugged her, “Everything is all right, I am here now. Calm down.”
She sat down, but within no seconds started hitting the ground with her fist. It has been long since I had seen her this angry. I threw some water on her face and asked her to drink some. I held her arm and collected her luggage and kept in the car and drove to a calm place where she could scream out her pain.
Her: Love doesn’t exist right?
Me: Who broke your heart now?
Her: Love doesn’t exist right?
Me: It exists.
Her: Where?
Me: Inside the heart.
Her: Only in myths and books.
I looked at her and as far as I knew she did not have any boyfriend. She preferred being single and was the only girl in my view, who kept herself reserved for her future husband.
Me: Somebody had someone special in their life and I didn’t know!
Her: My mom; how do you find her?
Me: Best of the best mother I would wish to have.
Her: And?
Me: Hmm... A simple lady who is happy with her life.
Her: That's the problem.
Me: What?
Her: She is simple. And men need somebody who can satisfy their thirst.
Me: Mind your words please.
She stood, as anger took over her again, “Bitch!” she shouted. I didn't know what to do, I felt scared. She wasn’t in proper state of mind. Her temper rose and I started to panic thinking what she would do next. “Fuck!” she bolted. “Calm down, please.” “No! You listen to me now. I go home every day, and everyday my so called ‘simple’ mom asks me to get married. The moment I deny and start revolting, she gives me the example of her ‘happily married life’ with her husband and my dad. She acknowledges themselves as the ‘Best couple in the entire world’. Best couple, my foot! *gasps* the simple lady has got no idea about her caring husband who is cheating behind her back, having an affair with another woman. The worst part is that her daughter, even after having known about the crappy shit can’t tell her.”
Everything came so suddenly, I wasn’t able to collect all of it. I remained silent and went on listening to her. “Do you know what the mistake of that simple lady is?” she asked me, looking at the mud beneath her feet. I thought twice to reply her or not and then I said, “No.” “The mistake is that she cannot talk seductively. Her legs aren’t sleigh or skinny which she could show off nor does she wear a short skirt which could attract men. She talks about her household chores, complaints when a glass gets broken or about a dish which isn’t well cooked. She dresses patiently and wishes her husband notices. Her face is covered with acne and dark circles, her hairs have turned grey which she tries to turn into black but unfortunately they turn red due to henna. She wishes to wear sandals with pointed heels but cannot because of her weight. She cooks different kinds of food watching that damn YouTube to keep her husband happy, cleans the house so that when her husband comes home, he can sleep well. That and all of that is her mistake.” She said breathing heavily.

My tears couldn't resist dropping and a pool was created. “But men will be men; they want somebody who talks cheesy; somebody who flaunts her thin waist and her fucking cleavage. Bloody prostitute!” “Please stop talking all of that.” I couldn’t listen to all that and see her going through such pain. She pulled me up, held me by my shoulders and shook me, “Do you know? that bitch knows that he is married! Yes, that bitch knows he is somebody’s father. And still… I curse her to fall in love with a person who would betray her in a way worse than this.” She sighed. “No! I take that back.” Tears flowed like a river, “I just want my mom to be happy.”
She sat for a while. Her anger took over again, “What if tomorrow, my mom goes out to those networking or dating sites and talks to some guy. Even if it was just a hello to some random guy, would my dad let their marriage survive? Wouldn’t he ask for a divorce? Because a man can get a girl and a woman has to preserve her chaste.”
She raged with anger and started throwing all the stones she found on the ground. All I could so was stand there, watching her get out of control. “I guess a wife is just for the night's pleasure and may be when the pleasure loses its charm, she can be replaced.” I did not speak a word but just cried over again. “My mom wants me to get married but who would wish to get married, when they have seen their parents’ loose love. The guy I would marry might be the same, right? He will love me till my body responds and later, watch out other girls, for more satisfaction.”
I started puking as her words crossed the limit of mine. I couldn't stand on my feet, as I felt that everything was revolving. She held me up and took me to the car. I sat on the seat closing my eyes. “I am sorry.” She said with her head lowered. I placed my hand over her head. She gave me some water, “I know you are very sensitive, but you’re the only one whom I can lay my trust upon and share stuff.” “Just pray to God. Everything will be fine.” “I hope so.”
She stopped her sentence conquering her anger and closed her eyes. I could feel her pain but I was helpless. She was calm now but the pain wasn't gone. She drove the car this time, as I was unwell. “When I will enter home, my mom will open the door and ask if I am fine? Or do I need anything to drink?” She wept; this time, softly. So did I; watching her.
As we reached her home, I sat on the driving seat pulling the seat belts. She came to the window after she got down, “Listen.” I rolled down the glass, “Yeah.” “You are a writer, right?” “I do not know exactly.” She smiled slightly continuing her talk, “Can you write my story? All that I told you today.” I didn't know why she wanted the world to know, “But why? It's your family problem and shouldn’t it be hidden?” She smiled, “I know. I just want to make some people realize that it is not always bright during the day. They need to take care of those who take care of them.” I didn’t know if I could do it, “I will try.” “Thank you.” She smiled and I smiled back at her. “Take care.”I said. I drove to my house, not knowing what to do. I took out a paper and wrote her words before they get blurred.



Writer: -me$hal-
Editor: StyZie


Photograph By: Mohammed Khusro Parvez. (https://www.instagram.com/khusroparvez/ )


Friday 18 December 2015

Hidden Love




This is the debut write up by one of the best writers I’ve met. I hope you guys like it, like I did. Happy reading:)


He walks with heavy steps as he gets closer to his home. Not because he is dejected or destroyed or has a lot of baggage or because he doesn’t love his life. In fact he is irretrievably in love with his life and would give anything to live it all again, forever! He is an established and entrenched writer, has more money than he can spend and a house worth millions. He has everything any guy of his age could dream of and then he has something he loves more than his life, his six year old daughter. She is beautiful beyond limits, probably because her mother was beautiful too. She smiles and his world stops. He would do anything to see her laugh and her tiny little hands grab her belly while she does so. The tiniest bit of freckle on her radiant skin freaks him out.

He is standing inches away from the room his daughter is playing in. But he can’t go. If he does, he will have to answer her and he knows he can’t. He can buy her anything she wants, take her places unknown to mankind, but she wants something without a price. Something even the gods can’t get her and he is mere human. He hopes that she has forgotten what she asked for, what she’s been asking for since the day she started talking.
He hopes that for one day, he won’t be a reason for her heartbreak. He walks in and doesn’t even have to call her name. She jumps from the bed, climbs onto his shoulder, kisses him on the cheek and asks for a kiss back. She then asks in her honey drop voice, “Daddy, Did you get me a mommy?” He kisses her back and hugs her tightly, for he is dismal down in dumps. He sheds off her wish, pretends not listening to the question and hopes that she won’t be disappointed, deluded, again. She climbs off her shoulder and walks back to her bed. She hugs her teddy and says, “I hate you, daddy. You never get me a mommy. Everybody has one, but me.” He stands powerless, destitute and weak and hates himself as if the gods had spelled their worst curse on him. He wishes if he could get her a mother, if he would’ve married someone or if he could, just for one day see her laugh and giggle all day long with her mom.
He walks up to her and picks her in his arms. He kisses her tiny hands, one after the other. “I can’t get you a mommy sweetheart but daddy will always love you, even if you hate him.” She looks into his eyes. He can see her blank, vacant, beautiful eyes looking for an answer as to why she can get everything but that. He looks at her with immense, unprejudiced and immeasurable love; for he knows that as long as he lives, he will have to go through the same every day, and someday his soul will burn itself down. He faces this every day until she comprehends that she will have to live without a mommy.

Time passes and the love between them seems to never end. He writes for her and she loves what he writes. Actually, everybody loves what he writes but none matter to him, except her. Time runs its due course, unaffected. She is married now and she’s about to become a mother. Her daughter will be beautiful, because she is too, and so was her mother as well. He kisses on her forehead and believes with endless hope that she’ll be a good mother. She kisses him back like they did ages ago and says, “Daddy! I will be a good mother. I missed my mommy when I was a kid and I won’t let my child go through it.” It kills him, for he did all he could to make her life full, to make her smile at every turn and to erase the crime he once did.

He forces his smile; because in his mind, he couldn’t be a good father. She takes his hand and says, “There can never be a father like the one I had. There can never be a guy who’d dress up like a clown and dance, to make me smile like he did. And that is why I will be a good mother because no matter what, my child will never have the father I had.” She continued, “I never needed a mommy because my father loves me more than his life and I love him too. And I want to tell him that until the day I die, there will be no other guy I’ll love more than I love him! I would love living the life; I lived with him again, forever.” He looks into her eyes, vacant and beautiful like ever. She just said something he once wanted to write in his book but was afraid she might know. His life had meaning now; it was perfect after that sentence of hers. He kisses her again on her cheek and walks away. He has tears in his eyes but he won’t show, like he never did when she was a kid.

 He never taught her to cry but to feel what was around her and she felt her father’s love. His life was never so promising, not even when he was a young man and was in love with a woman. All the pain he had gone through, when the woman abandoned him and their kid because he was a failure, and all the pain he lived through, when his daughter told him that she hated him, was gone now!

There was rain and the drops were sweet. There was fire and it was warm. The winds comforted him and the light showed him the path. There was love and it was pure, untainted. He walks back to his house, picks up his phone and dials a number. A female voice comes from the other side, “What is it now? I told you not to call me again. I am not coming back for her, never.” He gathers his crashing voice and wipes off his tears, looks at the picture of her daughter when she was a kid and says, “Congratulations! You’re a grandmother now!” and then walks out in the rain for he has tears, he has had them for years now. And now he can finally cry in the peace he discovered. The peace one woman took away from him and the peace another woman gifted him back. He smiles without a sour heart for his heart has started healing again and his wounds have found a rescue. He looks again at the picture and smiles, because the journey of his love found its destiny.

Writer: Enas Ekkery