Skip to main content

Its 2 a.m. She can not sleep. Sleep is a term for peace, probably... Far from peace, how can there be sleep... Someone is sick, someone is far, someone is veryyy far... She misses the 4 yr old, who said, "Dont be sad, be happy" the apple of her eye... If only it was so easy, he taught her, being thankful is the key... She thanks Allah for whatever is in store, but she can't sleep. Listening to the chugging sounds of the fan, the tick tock tick of the clock, scampering of a cockroach, the sound of some car coming in late, the squealing cats, the birds(afterall the early birds catch the worm) and finally the cockadoodle doos.. Such a short night, yet so long. Sometimes all she wants is to close her eyes, and dream... Of nothing... Just nothing, no thoughts, nothing... :( Lord, grant me peace!!! Shower your mercy on the sick, give them good health, ameen!!!!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It’s a Dog’s Life!!

By Anjum Niaz There’s a dog in our neighbourhood that nobody wants. Actually it’s a bitch. Her litter is on the way, I suspect. The big patch of green bordering my home and the busy road in front is no man’s land (read the CDA) but the lucky homeowners have been gifted the land and told to develop it as best as their aesthetic sense permits. Gardens are abloom all around my garden (says who Islamabad will run dry?) which stands out for its pedestrian look, only because my landlord cares not a whit for the patch. But the dog does. She has dug a cradle under the tangled bushes and lies there unobserved by passersby on the street. I worry. What if the puppies — God knows how many — invade my space and arrive uninvited in my garden. Their mother may not live to feed them. She’s doing poorly. When she’s not sleeping, she’s scratching herself all over to get rid of the ticks and fleas that infest her body. The vicious summer heat has parched her. The sun is relentless. Down the road, I watch...
11 comments
Read more

Memoirs of a Lost Soul!!

It was 9 p.m. I was making rotiyaan in the kitchen.. the same way you had taught me back when I was in grade 6th. How could I ever forget that. Kneaded the dough in that very way, and started making the rotiyaan.But Karachi's hot weather and taway ki aag doesn't make the kitchen exactly cool, and hence a drop of sweat trickled down my forhead, moving to my eyelashes, and standing there at the edge, like dew on the edges of a leaf. I unknowingly looked to my left with a smile just to find the grey tiled kitchen staring blankly and coldly at me. I had expected you to be there watching me do the stuff, but how could you be there when you were so far far way, in a place where I hadn't even set foot in. You'd say, 'oh, garmi lag rahi hai na!!' and try to take the rolling pin from me, but I didn't give in so easily. The sweat drop finally dropped mingling with the tear drops. As for me, I was left in the past. You!! who never left me alone. You!! who never even le...
9 comments
Read more

The New Leaf!!

Naveed twisted on the floor, rolled from one side to the other. At times, he folded the pillow in two, and once he just held it in his hand, there were still five freakin' minutes to go before the dial struck 4. Still, quite a lot of time left before the azan for Fajr would echo throughout his town. Naveed, unlike most people in dirty old Karachi, was one of the few who spent the night thinking what happened today. Today wasn't exactly good. Seemed like Abba was really angry. Well, what could he do?? It happened at the breakfast table. Naveed as usual woke up at 12:30 p.m. took a shower, offered Zuhrain , and on to the table, his breakfast table, where as it was Abba's luncheon time. Abba usually took lunch to work, but this afternoon he wasn't feeling good, so came home just in time to see Naveed sit at the table yelling, "Amma, mera anda paratha ???" Abba was furious. "Nido, is this the time for an anda paratha ???" "Aa.. Abbbaaaaa!! Well... ...
6 comments
Read more