Finish that jigsaw puzzle.

Two children had an early morning today. They decided not to disturb their parents and played a game of jigsaw puzzles between the two of them.They couldn’t even complete the game, it was time for school. Grudgingly, they left the game half completed, on their dining table, and left for school. Their mother smiled at them from the door, reminded them to finish their lunch which she had prepared like everyday, so lovingly.
But then, they had an early night as well. Hours before night was to come. It is 5 pm. They are not back yet. The jigsaw puzzle remains unfinished. The only difference-they’re a little wet, and very salty.

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Today has been tragic. A school of Peshawar, Pakistan was attacked by some ruthless, heartless, vile militants. A hundred children died. For nothing. A hundred stories like the one above. A hundred early nights. Way too early. Let this not be about a school, a city, a province, a country, or a religion. Let this be about those children. Let this also be about their teachers, about the people who died trying to save them. Let this be about bleeding hearts. Let this be about dead little humans, and about alive little humans. Let this be about this tragedy. Cry. Be remorseful. Depress yourself. Let everything be gloomy. Let the sun vanish, let the clouds go grey, let the dark prevail.
And then think of those children. Think of their rosy cheeks, bright smiles, colourful eyes, beautiful lives. Let that colour your life. Breathe it in. Breathe them in. For their souls are now all around you. Let that colour seep in, absorb it. Then make their deaths worthwhile. Finish that jigsaw puzzle.

Demand for Muddled Senses

Listen to her smile
Look at her sighs
Taste her fears
Touch her words
Smell her thoughts
Feel her being
.
Her smile speaks
Her sighs have colour
Her fears are bland
Her words are wax
Her thoughts like smoke
Her entire being….
Is different.

And it demands to be felt differently.

Irony of the wor(l)d

She doesn’t speak. She’s five years old but she doesn’t speak. Born in a poor village, she lives with seven siblings, she has never spoken. She listens, she looks, she points and claps-but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t even try to speak. Sometimes when her family doesn’t respond to her signals, or doesn’t pay attention to her, she produces one word with full stress so that it sounds as if she’s singing it; “Ammmaaa!”. That is the only word she has ever spoken. And the irony is, she doesn’t have a mother.

Make-believe.

Originally posted on Utopia:

Pretend.

Pretend your way through school and society. Appear calm, bright and attentive at all times. Shed light on the ugly lawn fabric prints of the season and the terror of the Daaish in the same breath, and somehow relate the two. Cover your ears with your hands if you have to, but do not give in to the horror of listening to the person sitting next to you. Never allow yourself to drown in a piece of art or music; discredit the artist and belittle his creations since nothing new is possible. Have strong opinions on all things imaginable and do not budge even an inch from your view point, lest your mind creaks open a little to entertain someone else’s perspective.

Carry on bullshitting. Don’t appear fazed or surprised if you hear something new today; there is nothing you do not know or couldn’t have predicted. The beauty…

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Notes to People of the Past

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Respected ____________,
You were right, I did it for attention. But it offended me deeply when you said it, when in fact I should have realized you were giving me an easy way out. Almost six years later I realize this and find closure. I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I am indebted to you.
~Moniba.

Dear ___________,
I think of that day every day. It has been almost nine years I think. I’m burdened with guilt. The fact that I can never apologize sickens me. You were my best friend at that time. I should have known better. I hope you’re happy wherever you are now.
~Moniba.

______________,
I forgive you. I know why you did what you did. I understand, although I obviously don’t approve. I forgive you. I hope you’re doing as well as you seem to be doing. I hope you understand my reaction as well.
~Moniba.

Dear ___________,
I don’t know you anymore. I just remember your name, your face, the time we spent together, and the monkey-bar incident. I hope you think of me too.
~Moniba.

___________, ___________, and ____________,
I was a child. You shouldn’t have done what you did. Every day I think of it and try to justify your actions, and I often succeed although I know it was wrong. I can’t say I forgive you. I don’t know if there’s anything to forgive. I don’t know what that constitutes. Just know, it affected me deeply. I would’ve been an entirely different person had it not been for you.

~Moniba.

Very dear _____________,
All of us miss you. I wish I could’ve thanked you when you were still here. I have fond memories with you. I still haven’t thrown away your gifts. I don’t know if I ever will. You’re missed, but you don’ need to worry. We’re all okay here. I hope you’re in peace.

~Moniba.

 

Thoughts >Identity > Human

Have you ever thought of how some things are everything and nothing at the same time? I find it strange. It is strange, obviously. And have you thought of how almost every statement can be justified in one way or another? And that many opposite things can actually equal each other? If you’ve thought of these things, then have you thought about what purpose this serves? Thinking. What does it do? Especially thinking of such perplexing things.

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And it is He who spread the earth and placed therein firmly set mountains and rivers; and from all of the fruits He made therein two mates; He causes the night to cover the day. Indeed in that are signs for a people who give thought.” {Ar-Ra’ad:3}

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It’s becoming common these days to find people, especially teenagers, thinking about deep matters; coming up with philosophical theories, twisting simple phenomenon into some unfathomable philosophy which might even be very impressive. But what use is it? Does it help us discover the universe? Does it help you get closer to the Creator? Does it help you in this world? Does it do anything but make you a mysterious complex character who others observe in awe? Maybe it does. Maybe. We could even come up with some very profound logics to this. I’m not here to judge that.

I just think there are better things to ponder upon than triangles that could begin from one point or from two. Who created the things we twist into philosophies? Why were they created? What’s the purpose of stars? What’s the wisdom of seasons? Why are humans the way they are? Why isn’t everyone the same? Wouldn’t everything be better if we all had the same capabilities and weaknesses? Wouldn’t the world be fairer if everyone had everything they wanted? Then why not? Why is there any evil at all in this world? Why do infants die? Why does war exist? What is disease for? Why is the universe the way it is? How come everything nature has created is so perfect? Who could’ve thought of such complexities that the world possesses? And then who could’ve created such fine detail? And then who could manage so much in such a balanced way? And then…. Who could destroy every single thing to ever exist in the universe? What are angels? Where did they come from? What is religion? Why do we need it? Why does the world contain proportions of everything? Who could think of all of this? How did it happen? WHY did it happen? The world that we live in, does it actually even really exist? How do you know everything isn’t just a figment of your imagination? What is this time that we so believe in? Why does death come? What comes after? Humans couldn’t just exist once to vanish forever, could they? Nothing that is something can ever really become completely nothing. Or can it?

We’re humans, and there are two things we do subconsciously and constantly. Breathing, thinking. These two things actually affect each other largely. Our breathing rhythms affect our moods. Our emotions influence our breathing rhythms. Point being, we can’t help thinking all sorts of things, but our thoughts do eventually become our words which might become our acts; directly or indirectly, consciously or unconsciously. I remember when we first got a TV in our house, I was afraid of it. I think I was 12 or 13. Then I began watching it, and used to think the shows won’t affect me, after all, I’m only watching them. I’m not doing anything of the sort. But I did watch, those things imbedded in my thoughts, and eventually I was confident enough to just joke about them, and then they seeped into my acts in such an unnoticeable way, I couldn’t even put the blame on the TV.

Hence, thoughts > words > actions
And I might go as far as to say: actions > identity

So then basically your thoughts make up your identity, your personality. You can’t stop thinking, and you mustn’t. But think good then. Think of things that give you something to live for. Think about where you are, and what you’re doing there. Think about why you are where you are. Think about how long you’re there for, and how long you’ll live for. Think about whether you’re ready to die. Think about life, and whether your life is good enough.

Think to find yourself. Think to believe.

~Moniba.

She often holds her head in her hands
Looks down, pulls at the sides of her eyes
Thinks about it for a while
And then lets it go.
She gets up and busies herself
Stays up late, avoids the pillow
But when sleep is inevitable
She rests her head on the pillow
Holds a cushion between her arms
Clasps her hands together
Now they can’t travel to her head
So she doesn’t have to think about it.
Not really.

~Moniba

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