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Flickering Lanterns

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Only In My Wildest Dreams.

cozy fancy outdoor

It was a light-hearted conversation that you and I had in the dream that I had today when I slept after having struggled to fall asleep through the night. I don’t understand why you still appear in my dreams even though it has been ages since we even talked, as in talked talked, not something that we were pressured into doing as obedient kids. You and I.. I think we’ve interacted more in my dreams than we have in real life, which is not surprising at all, since only in my wildest dreams would that be a possibility. You’re a mountain, me? A stepping stone. Which you’ve left so far behind that you don’t even remember if it exists at all.
We were at this place where you were marking essays that were submitted to you and I was all like, I could help you know, I have experience and the knowledge. You knew that since you’d already read something that I’d written and you were so dumbfounded that you couldn’t utter a thing about it. But you were like let’s not talk about work. And then the conversation took off and before we knew it we’d spent a whole lot of time talking. It felt great. Normally when we meet in dreams we just take glances or say one liners or you’re always angry and I’m always crying or something sweet is going on, but that happens rarely. Maybe because I am so sure of the consequences of everything that even though nothing’s real, the aftermath of these things in reality would be a shitstorm. So of course that slips through.
At one point I pointed towards me and then towards you and as a matter of fact stated “This can’t happen, you know that right? We’d destroy each other. We’re better apart.” and you agreed without skipping a beat. It hurt but it was enough to satisfy me in a way. You said, “Well that’s.. let’s not worry about that. We’re here right now, focus on that.” and sure, I did. There’s not a thing that you’d ask me to do and I wouldn’t do. I have done things for you when you never asked for them. Remember that time when you came home to your journal closed and your pens stacked back in your stationary holder? Yeah that was me. Yes I left that brown piece of colored paper to mark your place in the journal. Remember that time when you found your room cleaned up in a way you didn’t leave it? The folded blanket and the wrinkle free sheets? That was me as well. Remember that time when you thought that your mum was putting down your cup of tea but it turned out to be me? Yeah, I’d told her that I’d take care of it and I did.
What I’m trying to say is.. I kinda wish that you hadn’t agreed to the thing that I said. But then.. Its entirely fiction so who’s to blame.

I might still not understand why you appear in my dreams. Maybe you’ve been in my mind for so long that you’ve become a part of my subconscious. Maybe I really can’t get over it even though I have. I really have and I wouldn’t be lying if I said that. It’s just. There’s no point for all of this you know. It’s a dead end street. And to refer to Taylor Swift, I don’t have a Maserati. Then who the eff gave you the permission to barge in like that? It’s rude. Just. Don’t.

Or maybe.. it’s the last thread that I have left attached with you.. should I savor it while it lasts? Idk man. Leave me alone if you may. The forgetting will take care of the rest, hopefully. One day. Some day.

“Stay away from the ones you love too much. Those are the ones who will kill you.”
– Boris Pavlikovsky
(The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt.)

– Mahaah.

0

Sad. Beautiful. Tragic.

lonely

No, not the song. Not track 12 of Taylor Swift’s fourth studio album Red. Just three adjectives that hold a deep meaning. Three words that refer to something huge in my mind.

I remember the time when I didn’t have friends because I was the shy kid.
I remember the time when I had friends because I was the talented kid.
I remember the time when I didn’t have friends because I was the socially unavailable kid.

We run in circles all our lives. We go straight 180 degrees and then back to 360. Or do we? Am I stretching it too much? It will break if I stretch it too much.

Here’s to people I’ve shared my life with and don’t anymore. The reason being them leaving, me moving on or just being my own person and not putting effort in keeping up with them. It was a good time with y’all.

But something still pokes my heart. Something does. I don’t know how to word it because it is that elusive. How about trying. Lemme try again.

It sucks knowing that you thought that there was something between the two of you but in the rolling credits you find out that there actually wasn’t. It was all in your head. It was all your misinterpretations. Because what you thought was something – was really nothing. Nothing at all. The worst part is that you watched the entire movie thinking something entirely different and it ended on a cliffhanger. No amount of re-watches or revisits can change the fact. It’s gone. It’s done.
Pack your emotional baggage and leave.

It sucks knowing that you’d like to share what goes on in your head or in your life but you can’t because you can’t. Zero shoulders to cry on. Zero ears that listen. So you either end up with your journals or WordPress.
Spill the tea and wash up the mess.

It sucks knowing that your friends were your classmates. There with the wind and gone with the rain. The lit candle was only a spark, nothing more. What you thought would last longer turned out to be an iPhone cable. (Laugh at my dark humor). But isn’t that the thing with people. They are there for a time to serve a purpose, teach you a lesson and then go.
Feel your heart wilt and slowly die.

The beautiful part though. You somehow find your own worth in your own eyes within your own place with your own self. And somehow… that’s a win.

– Mahaah.

0

Am I dumb or am I dumb?

(This is gonna be a fun post since I’ve been a bit upset. Here’s something funny and hilarious from me to me because duh, y’all know its always us in the end who stick with us. Geddit? Let’s not get into pessimistic shit all over again. Oops. I’m ranting carefreely here, my carefree includes those words. So yeah. Lezzgo.)

 

It’s been a month since Baba bought me a new laptop, and its one of the happy things that have happened to me so far this year. Its been ages since I’ve written something apart from stuff for academic purposes, and Lord knows, I have a lot to write but I don’t get enough time or energy to pour it out. So guess what? I get apps downloaded into this new laptop, log into my social media and check out my WordPress. I don’t see no admin bar on my screen, hence I’m unable to post or read anything at all. I am legit worried, and I ask my friends if they have the problem of a non-existent admin bar or if WordPress is down. I Google how to fix this problem. They tell me all this coding shit that I needed to do like a hacker. I aint no hacker, y’all know. So… after a gap of two weeks, I turned on my laptop again for some university assignment. Lost in my thoughts, I typed wordpress.com in the url box and guess what? They take me to the frickin home page.

AND THEN IT HIT ME.

The eff?

All. This. Time.

I HADN’T LOGGED INTO WORDPRESS IN THE FIRST PLACE.

So stoopid of me. So stupid.

Am I dumb or am I dumb?

*Laughs at her miserable life*

(Might as well delete this later. I’m excited to post for the first time from my very own first pc.)

6

Rain.

“Rain came pouring down when I was drowning that’s when I could finally breathe, 
  And by morning gone was any trace of you and I think I am finally clean.” 
                                                                                                                         – Taylor Swift. 

Rain – what is it? A step in the water cycle that we kept drawing for the first four years of school? Or is it something more than mere leakage of clouds and volumetric spray of processed sea water?

As I reminisce, I remember my first rain was ruined by my screams and incessant crying. That year, Karachi had its last hailstorm. Everyone was out except my mother and my approximately four year old self, at 3 pm. All of a sudden it got really dark and electricity went out. I was scared, very badly. We couldn’t contact the rest four members of the family since mobile phones weren’t trendy in Pakistan. I kept asking my mother when my brother would arrive, I’ve always been possessive and careful about him. I kept crying and worrying my mom. She told me to go inside, that nothing would go wrong, that I should not see the sight of “ice stones” falling if I was that scared. It seemed like a good idea. I grabbed a cover sheet and lied down on one of the sofas. I stayed silent, and probably fell asleep. An hour later, everyone else arrived but I couldn’t get up. There wasn’t enough energy left. My parents came to see what was wrong. Mumsy touched my forehead and said, “She has fever.” Dad got worried and sat beside me. “She was afraid. I guess that’s why.”, my mother commented. All in all, I didn’t enjoy my first rain and ruined it for everyone else.

Next year when it rained, it was the month of July. I jumped in a puddle for the first time and monsoons weren’t a scary thing anymore.

This became a ritual in upcoming years, that I’d ask Mumsy if I could take a shower in rain and she’d say yes whilst getting another pair of my clothes out of my wardrobe. It was never a worry, I knew that she was the one responsible to get me cleaned up and all. Me and my brother would run to the roof top, almost jumping on every stair, crossing the thick flow of water and finally taste those divine drops.

Then came the years when every time monsoon struck Karachi or resumed its series, it always happened to be my birthday. I felt blessed to have that one gift even when nobody could wish me a happy birthday because of vacations. I felt blessed being remembered by Almighty. All was well until when some nine years ago I wasn’t home when it rained for the second time in that same week. All the kids of the host family ran out in the terrace and got wet, having fun in heavy rain. I couldn’t decide if I should go out or not, since I didn’t have a spare pair of clothes. The kids came back in after a while for pakoras. Seeing an empty terrace, I couldn’t resist that urge. I stepped out when no one was looking. I enjoyed that rain, I tasted a lot of rain water and I actually felt free. The homemaker lady of that family stepped out and saw me and furiously scolded me saying that I shouldn’t have stepped out in the rain if I didn’t have a spare pair of clothes. She grabbed my arm and took me inside, threw a towel on my face and told me to dry myself. As a twelve year old, it felt offensive – but I couldn’t cry cause I wasn’t home. That was one hard time when I missed home badly. Now when I look back on it in retrospect, I feel pity for her. She could have offered me her clothes or her daughter’s clothes or any damn thing and she could have kept quiet and she could have done anything else than what she did – but she didn’t. I got home and changed my clothes later and decided two things : I wasn’t going to wear those clothes again, and I wasn’t going to step out in any rain – ever again.

I lived by the promise for eight years. Rains made me feel nostalgic and angry. Until last year when I decided to break that weird self promise and to move on. With a sudden roar, last August, the sky started crying really heavily. Everyone was home. My mother asked me to clean the marbled porch. I went out and held the wiper in my hand. I looked up and it was the same heavenly sky as it was eight years back. I stood there, letting rain drops wet my hair. They made little five petaled flowers on my skin as if they were finally home. As I was done with the chore that my mom asked me to do, I sat in the doorway, looking out at the sky, thinking why I wasted eight years for people who didn’t matter. Some mud came down the drain and the porch was a mess again. Mumsy called out to my brother to bring a bucket full of water so that we could wash the whole thing, once and for all. It had stopped raining. I heard my mother saying to my brother, “What are you doing???!!” in a surprised tone. I didn’t bother to turn around and he emptied the whole bucket of water on me. “What the hell did you just do?”, I took off my spectacles and glared at him in fury. “Nothing, just had fun.”, he exploded in a bash of laughter. I cracked into a smile and luckily my sister photographed me in that pose. I still have that photo cause it speaks tons about the intensity of that emotion. Eight years was a long time, but I still had time – that, I knew.

This year, I don’t know why I was certain that it won’t rain in Karachi. But it did. I was overwhelmed with joy and took some photos; connected Wi-Fi and instantly uploaded a photo on Instagram. To my surprise, I got my first feature since that photo got featured on the country’s best paper’s Facebook page. This time it wasn’t my birthday, but it felt like one. Have a look at the feature :

View this post on Instagram

– This happened. I'm dead.

A post shared by Mahaah (@mahaahazeem) on

This year was weird and amazing with all this rain scenario. I experienced my first (kinda)rain in University, because I had experienced a downpour in school and college both, so I needed a firm record. (stupid shizz). I was out, a lot, when it was raining real hard. This year, Karachi faced a lot of rain – which is extremely unbelievable but then – Almighty can do wonders. This year, I took a hell lot of photos of rain. This year, I became a somebody. This year – is so far the best year ever. Alhamdulilah.

I have no idea why I have written 1163 words – just because http://www.rainymood.com is playing in my ears? I should conclude this post right here. Sigh.

Here is the rest of rain photography. Enjoy every freakin rain no matter what. Cheers!

View this post on Instagram

IT'S RAINING SO FREAKIN HARD FINALLY!!!! ALHAMDULILAH!!

A post shared by Mahaah (@mahaahazeem) on

– Mahaah.

13

One-and-Twenty.

Another year gone and I have accomplished… A lot. Alhamdulilah. I am proud of this self that I now have. I will work on making it even better Insha Allah, in the future. This birthday that passed was incredibly amazing, I still can’t believe that it happened.
So.. here’s an account of it all because.. I want the memories to stay.

I waited for the clock to strike twelve and posted a photo on instagram, something that I had painted for myself, my first painting with my own paints and without a reference image. A gift for me, from mahaahazeem.

I woke up when the third consecutive alarm rang since I had little time to sleep, but that doesn’t matter because university nights are somewhat like that. I got ready and left home, my brother was supposed to drop me at the university gate. My sister-in-law handed me a box and both of them said ” Happy Birthday” simultaneously. I thanked them and put the box beside me on the car seat. My brother said, “Open it, why did you put it away?”. I replied, “It seems like a mug, so I don’t need to open it.” A little offended by that answer and having a look at my mood he said, “Well you might want to see what’s printed on that mug.” I realized that I’ve been a dumb bunny for a while and quickly unwrapped the present. “Oh. My. God.”, I exclaimed. Have a look :

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIUkhF1jbYk/?taken-by=mahaahazeem

He designed that whole thing on his own. My brother is a freakin genius.

I went to university, got a cute welcome-birthday chorus from squad and after we were done taking a series of classes, we hanged out. For the first time, all of us together. It was a treat, from me to my babes. We had amazing food and an even amazing time together. I’ll never forget those giggles and that high level of humor and sarcasm. I know you guiz will read this someday, I LOVE YOU PEOPLE. ❤

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIVCwGkjiUA/?taken-by=mahaahazeem

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIVXA0gjMQi/?taken-by=mahaahazeem

Homie got me a present that she had been hiding from me all day in her bag. When she put it forth, I asked her if I was supposed to keep it. Partly because I hadn’t expected that, partly because I am a dumb bunny. I took out a booklet kind of thingy and had a look into it, and it happened to be the middle of that thing. I said, “Why did you write in the middle of it?” – and that’s when Mars jumped in, showed me the contents-page and said, “Its a whole freakin book. She wrote this for you in one day you know?”. Bedazzled, I looked at Moe if she was right. She didn’t say anything and let me get trolled for a while. But then I remembered something. Some photos that she had sent me some months ago. I asked, “Is it what I am thinking it is?” and she said, “Yes.” Thats when I was like – okay she didn’t write this in one day how is that even possible. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming”, I requested to which I got a real hard pinch on my wrist by Moe. I should not have asked that. It hurt. After ages something hurt for a while and I OUCHed real loud. Some moments later I put the things back in place to make room for our plates. “I’ll read this later.”, said I and the conversation diffused into another one.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIUq3d8jYTW/?taken-by=mahaahazeem

I got home tired, but happy. The day ended as an ordinary day, but as an extra ordinary entry in the diary of my mind. This year was a year of realizations, a year of soaring high, a year of knowing my colors and a year of coming out of the cocoon that I never tried to escape. Idk why I am quoting the terms that Homie used in the journal. Maybe because I am still starstruck that it happened, that she spent more than a year on it, that I actually got the original copy, and everything else about it. It is going to be on top of the most prized possessions that I have since its so freakin amazing.

That’s enough for this post I guess, gotta go and be a good something, not a perfect everything.

P.s. The last part of the last sentence belongs to Homie.

– Mahaah.

10

Change.

desk-white-black-header

Ten minutes before July 9th :  I changed the outlook of my blog in its entirety. I had been thinking about it for a while because of some reasons, some of which were persuasive enough to get my procrastinating self up and to get some shizz done. For instance, my previous blog theme didn’t really allow surfers to go through my stuff until they scrolled the whole thing, because most of them couldn’t really decipher what the three icons on the top meant. Moreover, it looked pretty childish. I really wanted to look at my grown up self through this blog-kid of mine, so yeah. Other silly reasons included my overwhelming thoughts in response to the first ever compliment that I got about the theme of my blog, so I had to change it, because I had to; you see? Also, I had been really liking this theme on two blogs I follow. Its okay to keep the same theme right? Does that count as cheating? Please tell me that its not. I had been thinking to execute this process on my birthday, which is after two weeks but I couldn’t wait. So here it is. The grown-up/growing-up Flickering Lanterns!

– Mahaah.
12:10 am
July 9th, 2016.

18

Eid Mubarak.

This Eid is entirely different from the Eids that I have been celebrating for twenty years. Mostly because a close relative passed away five days back, may God grant him the best of heavens, Ameen. My mother did not cook poori-qeema-siwwayan this time, since she’s a little not well, keep her in your prayers. I made the Eid breakfast for the the first time, in the former years I just used to make pooris round so that mommy could fry them. I hate the henna on my hands a little too much, since most of it was ruined while I tried getting rid of my abaya after getting back home. It was the first time Bhai didn’t force me to get henna done. Good old days. Sigh. I especially took photos of my stuff, that I didn’t really buy on my own. I don’t like shopping and that girly shizz. I stayed up late and got up early, still I felt fresher than I usually am. In addition to all that, my brother wasn’t home and I miss him so much. My father and my brother couldn’t go to Eid prayers together. They did not bring large balloons for me and my sister, which has always been a ritual. I guess I gotta grow up. No more balloons for me.

– Mahaah.

6

Why blog?

– Because I just found her here and I am excited because I am a huge fan of hers.

dupattadiaries

|| dupatta
dʊˈpʌtə/
noun
a length of material worn arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez, by women from South Asia. ||

I write this blog in the warmth of my bedroom,
on my extravagant appliance
while i listen to the sound of rain
pouring.
oh, the english rain.

I write this blog as a stage to honour,
the lights of karachi
the kebabs from kabul
the caves of kashmir

I write this blog to argue sincerity,
in an insincere world.
a world of slaughter for my brothers in syria
a world of mistreatment for my sisters in india
a world where my children would not want to be born

I write this blog to represent the struggle,
of the choice between the languages i speak
of the way my name is pronounced
of my religion
my morality
and…

View original post 13 more words

0

Midnight Rant..

So much happened in just an hour that I had to spill all these scattered emotions in one place, to remember these little moments that gave me joy, Joy that will make me smile outta nowhere when I’ll be stuck in a crowd or hitting my head on my books or travelling in my car.
Coming to the point, I just watched Inside Out, and what an amazing movie it is. I mean. The whole idea of memories, I’m personally a die hard fan of anything related to memories. This movie made me cry for straight ten minutes and I don’t even know if I should cry at this masterpiece or not. If you haven’t watched it, go right now and watch it. What are you waiting for? Armageddon?
I made a sandwich after ages. I ate it whole. I’ve never felt so chef-fy before. It was my sandwich, made by me and eaten by me. Do I sound like a five year old? Hah.
And lastly.. Um. Last week I posted an Instagram comment on some celeb’s post, about some QandA Youtube video, a question that I wanted her to pick, but I was so sure that she is not going to pick it that I didn’t even watch the video in the first place. Curiosity took over and I searched for the long forgotten video. I watched it like “Ah okay they are all kewl peeps” when she said “and finally.. Mahaah Azeem” and tears burst outta my eyes as if Niagara Falls had relocated themselves into my tear ducts. What even.
Go to 7:17 of this video to find out what I asked her. It was an unplanned philosophical-crap question tho. But I’m on a Youtube video now, at least my name is. Go sizzle on the jealousy pan doug. (Nevermind the last sentence.) Here you go.

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