Home is where we are!

Originally posted on Pinata Magazine

We parted our ways with goodbyes on the last day of school before every summer break, which was almost always the last time we would meet. It followed by packing our homes in boxes; too heavy with memories more than things yet light enough to fit into one container ready be taken to a new city where we would build a home all over again.

We never really called a house our home – well not truly. We called ourselves home, the family of five moving cities every year if not after two-or-three years, all thanks to our father’s service. 

We don’t call ourselves Sindhi, despite having a pure Sindhi heritage, it is very limiting to our true essence. We have fragments of Baluchistan, Punjab, and KPK embedded in our very blood. Our food ascends from the Sindh, our living style from Punjab, our language a mixture from every province and our face truly Pakistan.

We did not grow up by the years, we grew up by the cities we lived in. From being born in the city of lights: Karachi, to the first day of school life in Rawalpindi. From learning bicycling on the streets of Shorkot to bicycling every day in Sargodha and finally abandoning the bi-cycle in Risalpur. Then on we went to discovering new hobbies in Quetta and developing newer habits in every new city we went.

The goodbyes that were once exchanged for the last time, turned into hellos and long-lost conversations many cities later. The friends that played with us in our childhood became more like family closer to us despite being cities even countries apart and we had more family members by fate than by blood. 

Our fate, or to be precise our father’s service, took us on a journey throughout the country teaching us lessons of a lifetime in as short a life as our present age. But it also gave us a life as beautiful as any. We were more blessed than the compromises our life demanded of us. 

In that, we truly lived and not just existed. Made a home out of nothing whereever we went, left some of ourselves behind and took some of it with us to a newer place, a newer city. The walls of the houses that once held our memories, now holds someone else’s. And years later, it will hold the pieces of all the lives that once passed by. 

©

Sumal Jamil

Deep

But did you ever see through her eyes, the chaos that lives inside? Did you sense the struggle in her body despite appearing so still? Or did you believe her to be as shallow as she performs to be?

Whole Human Being

She wished to be more than a hug,

More than some kind words,

More than a firm hand,

More than a helper.

She wanted to be the help,

Be kindness herself,

Be the hug,

Be the warmth that soothes the soul.

She wanted to be more than just a girl,

So she became more than herself,

And she was a complete person on her own

Who did not need another human being.

She was whole.

Comfort Zone

It will amaze you the way you’ll grow when you step out of your comfort zone. It will astound you the way you will leave behind the habits that you once believed would never vacate you.  The way you will start to ignore the things that once made you awfully conscious of your existence. The way you will start to speak like you hadn’t imagined speaking. The way your walk evolves, the way your relationship with yourself evolves, the way your comfort zone expands.

Most of all, it will make you grow even more than you can comprehend, it will make you aware of the endless possibilities that exist beyond your comfort zone.

But Darling always remember, nothing is comfortable that takes up your mental and spiritual peace. There are no compromises at the expense of mental health, and should never be.

Choking

And then there are some that take up all our space and leave us suffocating with claustrophobia of people rather than places.

And we are choking, trying to grasp on the minimal air that is enough for us to live, to merely exist.

Love Struck in a Coffee Shop

 

In the crowded coffee shop, just around the corner of the street where she lives, sat a girl right across from the entrance door with her nose in a book and eyes that only left the lines of it to either have a sip from her coffee or to take a peek at the door. Observing people was one of her many favorite hobbies and what could have been better to enjoy it other than the most visited coffee shop of the town. It had become an everyday routine, more like an escape from the chaos of life and work, to come here read a book or two, enjoy a good cup of coffee and observe life as it passes by in the people of this town.

She now knew almost every single person that lived in this small town, or so she thought she did. Not many people were interested in others as she was nor were they into books or literature like herself. It seemed as though it was only her that truly lived, others were just passersby. They couldn’t even tell apart the days of the week being so delved in their fast and busy life, each trying to reach their own heights of success. Which was the most common thing amongst the residents of this small town, everyone wanted to be successful and for most of them success was defined by the amount of their bank balance. From the start of school, till they achieved what they wanted, they did not stop for even a moment to enjoy the life they had been given. She wasn’t like any of them, she had vowed to herself to not become a machine like her parents when they had died of old age that had arrived too early. She vowed to live life every once in a while, breathe in the moments, discover the earth that we reside in and do more than just make money.

With all the money being spent on her parents’ health and her education, she was not left with enough to travel the world but just enough to read about it. So she bought book, loads of it and read every day in the same coffee shop whenever she took breaks from her library, for she found more life in books than in the people living in that town.

Her life was the same every day with a different book, until one fine morning in the same coffee shop from the very same spot she found herself staring at a guy who had just entered the shop. From the looks of him, she could tell he was not from here as he held a book in his hand which was rare. The tall man in blue shirt and brown curls sat right across from her table after placing his order. They exchanged glances for a slight moment and returned to their fictitious worlds held in their hands. Moments passed and they exchanged glances again and again and yet, but this time stopped and stared. Why are you staring at me? She asked him in her thought. Why are you so beautiful? He replied in his thought. The staring went on and began a series of silent conversations with expressionless faces communicated only with eyes amongst the crowded coffee shop.

You’re the one. He said to her in his mind. You’re the one. She said to him in her mind. Both of them left their seats and took steps to reach the other. What if this isn’t the one? Their subconscious questioned as they progressed their steps. This is. Their heart concluded, shutting the subconscious away. Both reached each other and stood three steps apart, staring. Each trying to contain themselves from being exploded with the emotions that were running through their bodies at that exact moment.

“Their eyes met…” He quoted from the book he was reading few minutes previously finally breaking the prolonged silence, “and they stared together…” She joined and both completed in unison “at each other, alone in space.”

They smiled and stared together at each other for seconds that stretched into minutes. The crowd had now noticed the chemical reaction that had ignited between the two strange souls standing in the middle of the shop. They had realized the presence of all eyes on them and decided to ease the air.

“Hi” they said in unison, followed by silence and surprise at the lack of words being avid readers themselves.

“So Great Gatsby, huh?” She asked.

“Yes, it’s always a pleasure to read Gatsby when there is nothing else to read”, he replied trying to conceal what seemed to be more than just nervousness.

“There is never nothing to read”, she said gaining some strength to form proper sentences.

“Indeed, but I was in quite a rush this morning to start something new. It requires …” he said trying to recall his thoughts that had just slipped his mind as he noticed her glowing eyes, “uh”.

“It requires a peaceful mind to start something new” She added, “I understand. It’s hard to find time to read in the business of life.”

“And yet we do”

“Indeed we do”

And silence followed which was truly the earsplitting sounds of the reactions taking place in their bodies which were now unstable.

“You are something”, he said.

“You are something” she replied.

Love had struck and set their souls on fire, which now rose from their bodies and submerged into one another, becoming one as if they were each half of a complete soul, and started dancing together as champions on an ice rink performing their best dance ever, and the crowd watched as if the best showman in the world was performing right in front of their eyes when really there were two bodies staring into each other’s eyes as if it was their last sight ever.

 

Underestimating Art

We work so hard

Day and night,

Mixing the right colors,

Putting the right words,

Hoping to produce a MASTERPIECE.

Yet

Underestimate our finest pieces.

Placing the value of our Art,

On the approval of those,

Who do not understand

What Art is.

Renuite

Slowly,

she shuts her eyes,

every night.

Wandering off to a place

that she calls home.

Where they both,

REUNITE.

Faded Memories

The walls that held our lives in photographs,

Now hold someone else’s.

I am a Warrior – Zebu from Udaari

‘Stop’, Some Say.

‘Not today’, I reply.

With a lump in my throat,

A pounding heart,

And trembling hands,

I begin to speak.

Unraveling all the knots

I never dared to touch.

Lifting up the veil,

From the remains of that day.

On my arms and my legs,

On my face and my brain,

I leave nothing behind.

Opening the doors of flashbacks and memories,

The painful and horrifying ones,

I let my tongue go on.

The pain grows,

As if never left.

I bid farewell to the nightmares,

As I fade away from the stand

To the day it all began.

To the day I lost, Everything.

For one last time,

I open the chapter that was forbidden to be touched.

I free the truth,

Expose the scars,

Endure the pain all over again,

And let the tears flow down my cheeks.

For one last time,

I don’t hold back.

Closing this chapter, forever

With the note that,

I am not a victim.

I am a survivor.

 

I don’t know how to write poetry, but I try. And this is my support to Udaari, the one drama that has a purpose and a cause. The one breaking stereotypes. I hope that this drama fulfills its purpose and revives the traditions of silencing the victims of violence.