Bewitching Monsoon Rains

The rain makes me go crazy. Makes me lose my mind. The thunder, the lightening, the wet wind hits me deep inside. It’s a wonder of wonders how water could be so enchanting. How could the world turn into such an overwhelming source of pleasure in just a matter of seconds. The world has transformed into a cacophony of musical sounds, beats, clash, thunder and the sweet symphony of falling drops on the earth. The trees have shed the dust and the earth its sorrows, it’s a time to rejoice now.

I’m awed and inspired, I’m in a trace. My nerve endings are experiencing a sensation that lifts my soul far beyond my body, into the realm of the unknown. The deep embers of my heart have been fueled and my soul searches with a longing so intense, it could turn me to fire if not quenched. I want to dance in the rain, paint the world with my passion, ride on the wind and never look back.

The bewitching monsoon rains are here. It’s time to find me and you now.

Look for me in the monsoon rains and you won’t find me. They have touched something deep inside and I have lost sense of my existence. Find me in the thunder that rumbles and quakes, the lightening that brightens up the sky, the wet breeze that is the breath of life itself. Look for me in the rain drops that are attracted to the mother earth and fall slowly, finding their path, vibrate ever so gently before kissing the hungry ground and turning to dust themselves. If you can’t find me there, look for me in the colors of the rainbow, I will appear for a small glimpse to the waiting world.

Let it snow!

Burberry Winter Accessories

I have never seen snow but I do like the fact that it’s snowing on my blog. Even though it’s virtual snowfall but I am loving this feature by WordPress.

Winters have arrived, and yes it did seem like they’ve taken longer to get here than last time but that doesn’t make their arrival any less charming. I would have used the word fascinating here, if it actually snowed in my part of the country. Yes, the whole country is not bereft of snow. However, almost all year round it’s summer here and a scorching one at that.  Winters are very short and though they are much much colder than in lower parts of the country, sadly they are not cold enough to snow here. We do have occasional hail storms though, one or two in a span of several years. When winters do arrive, they bring with them the promise of long walks, gorgeous winter accessories, misty surroundings and foggy breaths. Drinking delicious Kashmiri tea, munching on nuts, and eating ‘garam garam andays’ (boiled eggs) have their own appeal too. But the real reason that I love winters is that the summer months here are so dry, hot and unbearable.

Well, let’s not talk about the summer anymore. That’s not what either this post or the snowfall on the screen is about. So I’ll just have a cup of coffee with freshly baked cake while enjoying all that the winters have to offer.

Let’s write poetry…

Following is a note posted by me on my Facebook profile. It was at the start of this year. I was feeling very nostalgic and was in a mood for reading and writing inspirational original poetry. Thus I posted the following post and kept it updating as the responses came. It started out slow with me and my friend Erum taking the lead and slowly others pitched in too! I am very proud of all those who contributed and surprised not only me but themselves too at how good a poet they were!

National Youth Convention

Me @ Sindh Youth Convention

It was in 2005 when me and my very very close friend Sana were selected to represent our university Textile Institute of Pakistan – TIP, in the Sindh Youth Convention. It was a 4 day event with impromptu debates by the candidates ending with a cultural show including humorous poetry and classical musical evening. The venue was Karachi University where we also met another very dear friend of mine, Wardah, and in between the sessions me and Sana would explore KU, its different departments, libraries and long deserted lanes. Now KU and deserted is a little hard to believe but a campus where people travel by buses from one department to the next, there are several areas that are actually deserted hidden treasures. We even found some ‘dhabbas’ (kiosks and adobe houses) inside the campus and all in all it was a great time for me and Sana loitering about lazily in the summer afternoon heat. I stayed at Sana’s house for these days and the funny thing was I was suffering from a severely bad throat. Sana’s mom gave me ‘haldi’ (turmeric) in milk to clear my throat and improve my voice but to no avail and all that came out was a croaking rasping ruse of a sound! Anyways my voice did me in but Sana went on to qualify for the National Youth Convention and won accolades for TIP by being selected amongst the top 10 students from Pakistan. Later on we also went to Governor House, Karachi where every participant got a certificate and cheque. I remember the cheque amounted to Rs.5000 which to the government’s credit bounced back!!! Still have the cheque saved 😉

Our faculty member Mr. Ali Hafeez was there with us every step of the way to lend us support and following is a post I found written by him in the TIP online magazine ‘Quack’ :

http://www.quackonline.net/news/national-youth-convention-2006-tips-success-story-again/

An excerpt from this post :

“It has been a pleasure for me to chaperon these TIP representatives (Sana Kamaludin, Nazish Hafeez, and Bilal Akhtar in 2005 and Nimra Waseem, Farrukh Sham, and M. Raza in 2006), who have had the wonderful opportunity to take part in this prestigious Annual event.”

Scrambled Thoughts

Well well well. This is the poem that I wrote when I was in college. Wrote it for the college magazine, a year before I came to TIP and it ended up being published in the university magazine instead. Its been quite a while and reading it after all this time, it sounds so childish. But then, I was a teenager when I wrote it so the amateurish quality is justified I guess!

SCRAMBLED THOUGHTS

Here I am racking my brains
the blood rushing in a torrent through my veins
loud music blaring from the speakers
coffee in my hand and across the room a TV screen
flickers
now I can discern what an ordeal it is to write for
Talking Textures

The signals in my brain have traveled miles
all this practice doesn’t seem worthwhile
Though there’s a continuous cascade of ideas
ranging from computers and rockets to CDs and cabbages
I want an engaging topic on which I’ll be able to
write passages
Alas! As yet, I haven’t come across anything as
precise

Sometimes I get fed up and want to get it over with
out of sheer desperation my little mind thinks:
‘Hey! Why not copy it from somewhere or give it up’
but my conscience intervenes(damn!)
and I have to accumulate my thoughts from scratch

I have vowed that I won’t be left behind
I hammer, bang, knock and thrash my head
trying in vain to discover
the itsy-bitsy idea shrouded in the abyss of my mind
All this frenzied activity has drained my energy
maybe its time for a breather
maybe lightening will strike my head and save the day.

– written : Summer 2001, published in Talking Textures 2002

Under my Umbrella

Nostalgia…
The word doesn’t do justice
To the feeling that resurfaces

While watching a reunion
Seeing them all grown up
Shehnaz, Kashif, Faraz and Gulsher

My heart did reminisce away
Sunday bazaar my thoughts travelled
To relive the day

When we were lost on seaview
Had garlic dip for iftari
Swiss chocolates rained on my parade

Signaling the buses
In the pouring rain
Under my umbrella

Ooooo
Under my umbrella
yay yay ella A ella aaa!

(dedicated to my frnds Rihanna and Ping Pong)(rihanna=ayesha, pingpong=sana)
(refers to Alpha, Bravo, Charlie reunion few days back in Nadia Khan show)

-written: February 2010

Nostalgia

hostel kay saleti kabootar
oonchi uran urtay thay
ooday ooday badalon ke peeche
asman se milker atay thay
wahan barish hoti thi
to asman khil uthta tha
saray rang mil ker atay thay
qatron ka tana bana sajanay
hum jheel kinaray beth kar
pyar k khwab buntay thay
tel se doobay french fries
batkhon ko khilaya kerte thay
chatri ka namo nishan na tha
hum to barish me bhi
pakran pakrayee khelte thay
aur tasweeren khenchtay
khushi kay pal samettay
kabhi na thaktay thay
un azad panchyon ki tarah
jo abhi bhi wahan mehw-e-parwaz hain

This is my first ever Urdu poem. Its written in fond memory of the university hostel days.

-written: February 2010

Crying’s all the rage

Teardrops do the trick
Where neither can sense nor wit
Crying’s all the rage
Lest I disintegrate

-written: February 2010

 

Wear & Tear

Till the mascara runs out
and the dreams turn sour
water fades into many a ripple
and we keep on blinking away the people
the acquaintances that turn into friends
and old friends into strangers

– written in Summer 2007

Devil’s Workshop

‘An idle mind is a devil’s workshop’
Isn’t that what they all say?
But what they neglect to mention,
is an occupation for this idle mind.

An escape from this mental grind . . .
Can it be achieved in a lifetime?
In several?

– Written in Summer 2005