Honeymoon
The euphoria
And the peace
Slowly steadily and intimately
Embracing
We don’t understand the worries of our parents. We judge them so harshly. We complain of the aloofness. Despite their concerns and care, we still feel detached. But there is this group afar. We try to extend our hands in longing. We speak, scream and sometimes call silently as well. Hear us. Hear me. Or may be sing me your song. Our calls are same lame and mundane things. Grass is definitely greener there. No?! We desire. Then we don’t want to admit it as well. Desiring a companionship or a lover or subjecting the self to devour passions or getting acknowledged, being owned, want to claim, even win, all those glorious careers, domesticity, emotional intimacy, guards, masks; we like or dislike or live or want to unlern these all and many more. But why the denail? Who do we have to prove we are better on ourselves if not only the dear self?! We fear bondage. And yet we want to be. Then we deny. Yeah, damn right, we are independent. Bleh. Evading all things and every body is not independence. There is no running away any where. The ‘self’ and the ‘fate’ always got each other, like two inseparable best friend forever types.
Everything in nature is so intimidating that your heart can not contain it.
We pour so much of ourselves on social media sites where there is an illusion of having an earful audience. Where as in reality one has to contain everything within, no matter how saddening it is. Simply because the doors shut right at your nose. “Why do you even call or come to meet, Rafiah?!”
Routine, daily chores, spending of days and nights, fam jam, the noise they make, the angry grumbles one is constantly making, supposed passions and friends, alternating health and sickness, the art within and outside; these are all actually bliss to fight the biggest of the demon in nature, the loneliness. Otherwise how unbearably boring it would be to survive.
Each and every hook and corner of my room, what lies in the side table drawer, the lamp I so much like, the books I have stacked and unable to read any time sooner, the messed up almirah I fail to organize, my hand written notes made to safe keep all the knowledge in the fear that it will evaporate otherwise, conversations saved in my mailboxes, my diaries, the insults and curses, eating back my tears, the inappropriate touches, the kitchen cabinets, all the photos, the souvenirs and the memories, the expectations of my parents towards me, my troubled attempt to live and to be able to love the proper way, the fear for future, my improper attempts to make calls, struggle to live the right way ; I have been dissolved in all that.
In the end,
Happy Wedding Rafiah
May you find the coolness of your eyes while in your husband’s warm embrace.
My dil keeps coming to you, and stopping. That’s what our equation is nurtured into. For ever trying.
R
Legacy
We are
Our parent’s loath
They choose to unsee
Karma
Dear
Your friendship
Has exhausted me
In trying to love
Unconditionally
I
Have learned
To stay alone
Now I must learn
Togetherness
 | katiemiafrederick on Dearest Life |
 | Rafia on Dearest Life |
| katiemiafrederick on Dearest Life |
| katiemiafrederick on On Reaching Out and Not Reachi… |
 | randomlyabstract on Breaking the Hiatus |
