Tag: teenbloggers

i’ll sing to you, beloved kashmir.

for it is best not to be seen, my child.
it is best not to be known in the land of the forgotten.

no one remembers, love. 
she tells me. 
no one remembers my heaven on earth.
no one remembers my land of light. 
my land where angels resided,
but now God weeps every night. 
Mother jhelum is crimson now,
but its calming sounds,
seem to mask the screams of the corpses underneath.
and when my people look inside its crystal waters,
their eyes widen, 
and death winks at me. 

for it is best not to see, my child.
it is best not to know in the land of the forgotten.

i want to interrupt but i can’t. 
i’ve been silent for too long, she tells me.

this was 
no, 
is the home of my women. 
women, 
who used to walk through my fields,
singing songs of me.
songs that now only exist as echoes of the foregone,
my women who now only exist as shadows in the dawn.

for it is best not to be seen, my child.
it is best not to be known in the land of the forgotten. 

she pauses and the silence between us lingers. 
so i tell her. 

another harsh winter is coming,
another winter of frozen corpses,
and dreary boat rides in dal.
but you must stay.
you must hear me, my beloved.

where there is life, there is hope.

so let me sing to you,
and you shall overcome. 
let me sing to you like your women did,
for if you leave now, who will know how much you weeped?
let me sing to you dearest kashmir,
come out now, it is your time to be seen. 

look how beautiful you are.

*written during the COVID-19 pandemic, 
in response to the amount of hate and  xenophobia
asians have been facing all over the world*

credits: @susdraws on instagram
look how beautiful you are,
with curiosity blooming in your eyes 
as you walk around a town you’ve never lived in before.
you watch as young boys cycle together,
the blonde one utters a slur when you pass by,
you ignore him
it isn’t the first time you’ve heard it,
and oh well,
he’s just a boy.

look how beautiful you are,
as you gawk at the cute cafes on every turn,
a few heads shift to stare at you 
and a few mouths whisper,
you ignore them
after all,
you’re just another foreigner, right?
it’s natural to stare.

look how beautiful you are,
widening your eyes at the skyscrapers that behold your eye,
they’re taller than you expected
so you admire them in silence,
until a man tells you
that making your eyes look bigger won’t help you fit in,
you ignore him
everyone’s quick to assume once in a while.

look how beautiful you are,
as you rush to help the woman
who dropped her basket of oranges,
but she tells you to stop,
she tells you to go back to where you came from
and take all the people you killed with you,
you ignore her
at least you try to 
you want to say something, you want to shout
but you can’t.
you don’t know how to tell her that you mean no harm
so you stand there all alone,
trying to build a home away from home
in a country so far,
oh darling please just look,
look how beautiful you are.

things i have learnt during quarantine.

credits: weheartit

i. I have begun to appreciate sunrises way more than I did before. There is something about waking up at 5 am to see pinkish glowing clouds that seems to calm my restlessly beating heart. 

ii. I have stopped wearing earrings and my face looks incomplete. As if missing someone it needs to let go of. As if yearning for something that adds nothing to who it is, except a touch of superficial appeal.

iii. I have started taking afternoon naps and I’ve realized that we don’t need to do everything without even breathing in between. That we cannot do everything no matter how hard we try and so our best chance is to enjoy every given moment like it is our last.

iv. I have started making maggi at 3 in the morning. I have begun to tell myself that if I don’t know how to be happy right now, it is because I’m worried about the future, but if I don’t know how to be happy right now then what guarantees I will in the future? 

v. I have started going to the terrace to wash clothes. For there is something melodic about clothes flowing with the cold breeze. Melodic enough to make me sing to the sky. Melodic enough to fill my words with hope. 

vi. I have begun to feel a lingering sense of relief whenever I see someone outside. For my heart seems to sigh knowing that there is one more person who’s still there. One more person who is trying their best to survive. One more person I can still pray for. 

vii. I have realized that Saturdays are my favourite. That sleeping in and not having to worry about staying up till late the next day is perhaps one of the only things that I can still find comfort in. 

viii. But Mondays are the worst. For they signify the start of another long week. They remind us that there’s a lot to do before we can go back to things that comfort us. That despite everything we’ve done in the past, we still have a long way to go.