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Her wet eyelashes rested on her beautiful face in the rain of tears. The shiny mirror of her life lay in pieces that would never be put together again. She had lived to kill her soul, her own. If only she could name him. Her ears would long for the voice of her own. She would shriek and scream, cry and weep for a nameless part of her. They never showed him what was her own. For months she kept him in her bosom, fed him her own blood and painted a million dreams for him. Today she had him no more. Her hands were free, her legs untied yet she lay helpless only with her tears to dry.

The pain had suddenly reminded of her ordeal for nothing. It had made her soft skin pale and her gentle pink face red with sorrow. A few feathers lay around her as her nails had dug the sheet and the mattress she lay on. Going into an ecstasy of blinding pain, she yearned to hear a beautiful cry on the other side. There was only deafening silence.

A world had come down on her and she would fight back with an ocean of tears; until she sank into them.

June 8 1997

Nazeeha Chaudry gave birth to a sub developed fetus. It was never shown to her and was declared property of the teaching hospital.

June 11 1997

Nazeeha Chaudry was declared deceased due to post child birth complications.

PS. This is a work of pure fiction with any collision with reality purely unintentional

Körperfotogramm. (©Floris Neusüss - Courtesy of the Atlas Gallery)

a night's dream

She held the pen with the pink teddy on the back and begun to write those words. She knew what exactly to say to him but was too shy to do so. Yet she wanted him to know so bad. It had been four years and he was someone who she could totally depend on. He had given her all the reasons to smile, every reason to laugh and been there with those huge hugs when her eyes would go wet. Tonight she begun to write to him. The pen rolled over the paper gently so it seemed as a dancer it would measure every move and each word that came down on to the paper was crafted right deep in her heart. The words flowed in their totality and the reason for her secret smiles was now shared by the green lined paper. She thought she was done writing and stared silently at those words for sometime. Yet she smiled again seemingly unsure of her sureties. She looked at the clock and grinned for no apparent reason. It was four in the morning but she wasn't sleepy and yet very chirpy slowly singing songs to herself. It seemed like a beautiful dream and she didn't want to wake up if it was one. Shutting all the worries she chose to walk this way only because what she felt was the most beautiful feeling she had ever had in her entire life. Those eerie goosebumps and that hesitation to say what she wanted were moments she had memorized to live again and again. She folded that paper neatly and put it beside her green school book carefully. Morning seemed too far away as she counted those five hours on the clock against the back wall. Taking a deep breath she climbed into the bed and hugged the sheets in complete joy! She lay down on those silk sheets thinking of tomorrow to be her immaculate dream. All her dreams were all but figures of her own imagination but this time she wanted them to come to life. Slowly she closed her eyes anticipating for a tomorrow that already was.

The note

you could have said a word before,
or given a small tear to roll,
even a short look of grieve,
when handing out that deadly brief;

it said all but by who,
i tried to find you i knew,
read over and over till no more,
voices are lost and eyes are sore;

and when the wall started to break apart,
they walked over a broken heart,
crumbling under a shattered man,
without his soul now he may stand;

an art that could be taught,
passion that saw the worst drought,
my south road became your north,
beauty of thy love is all the gutters' worth;

there is no truth that life is unfair,
you wont make it all that bad,
give you smiles to make me sad,
all is said but not all is read;

on the shores, mending my boat,
giving all to get a little note,
they know it and so do you,
in there there was no you.

Wasted

As she walked on those weeds, I sit here and watch those beautiful feet touch the grainy sands. Her fair skin glowed in the evening sun and my eyes comforted at the sight of her smiling to herself. That smile is the beautiful spell that is cast over me all so many times again. This is my pain- I chose it for myself. Half soaked in water I wonder if this self infliction will ever end and if this night ever see a morning. The day may break in every time but who can make the darkness to escape? I question God's work, respect His decisions and ask for what i must get. Its like that bottle of wine you cant help getting drunk on, knowing no matter how bad it will be. Linguistically its referred to as addiction, the heart calls it love.

On the road back I see those car headlights coming closer and closer only to speed away. My neck feels too heavy to hold up this head. I want to bow down to Who knows all. How many times I breakdown is so okay to me that I care not move my lips to murmur a prayer even. My smile denies its self and the path seems never ending. I may leave thy footsteps on this road but I never wanted to be a traveler on it. Deep down in the depths of my self I wanted to be here forever. For once I wanted to be what I am. To find out who I am- for someone that is. Do prayers work and if the wishes come true? I let fate decide. Whatever the result, I loose both ways; one with a wrenching heart and other with everything I could possibly have. If only the rivers from these eyes ever fall into her deep oceans.

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She could see nothing but darkness now. Opening those eyes wide so that the thin cold air cools his buring eyes. Not that one tear has fell but she has cried enough. This journey would be a long one but it wants to be cut short- by her, unable to stop from going on that road she tries and tells herself not to walk on it aimlessless or rather with an aim that is unwanted. The daylight has to creep in, the morning breeze wants to blow on the face and the warm sun shines on her skin; but i walk towards the darkness.
Perhaps one day, she would see the path more clear. Standing in the sandy waters of the beach today, the sun bakes over as she feels the cold water kiss her feet. The sea is so huge it always encompassed everybody, every wish, every joy and every sorrow. This misery wants to end but is there a way out? There has to be one, she tells herself and if there isnt, she wants him to feel it. Time is the vessel which you never see when full, its only when it emptys, you realise what you have lost. The only fear she has is if she may drift away way too much that it is impossible for her to come back for anyone; even herself. The fear overpowers her to step ahead or move behind. She just realised, she was officially in a limbo- that was no where.

So tommorrow!

Tonight is a sad night. There may not be tears falling nor the women wailing but even the spirits fall silent in the gloominess around. She wasn't alone tonight but had so many people around that she would never think of being alone. Classical music wasn't her forte but tonight she felt strangely close to it. So on a borrowed laptop she plugs in these huge white headphone lying unwanted on that desk far away and slowly closed her eyes as those sitar strings sent vibrations into her head and the emotions simmered. She smiled secretly. All of people she always made sure felt wanted, cared and special were no where to be found. Their leftovers in life lay all across- a stark reminder of tomorrow that would be yesterday. Getting hurt wasn't a new thing for her but left alone was. Getting up with the look of disbelief on her face she moved towards the empty building and saw a dark corner with a carpeted floor. Good Lord the darkness wasn't as bad, at least no one could see you in there but you. A voice called from somewhere but it wasn't what she hoped it would be but someone wanted an errand. She got up slid out and did so in her face half hid in the subtle lighting. Falling back into her secret darkness and closeing her eyes secretly smiling to herself- not that she was happy but of helplessness and an artificial sense of content. Who was she fooling? One thing that she knew very well was that the night was anything but over. It said 3 43 AM in the digital watch she was wearing on her right wrist. The time never stopped but tonight it would lazy around as a pretty soul cried with a smile on its face, almost if all the breaths she took would be as heavy as her last one. She lied in gloom with the music blaring loud into her ears. A smile rolled up as her thin lips moved to complete the fooling smile. Tonight she questioned a lot to herself and got the answers to; they made so much more sense with the heart all submissive. Hidden under the veil of a false grin, which she would be wearing in the morning when she was with her 'friends', the people who promised to be there all the time but tonight when she really wanted them. Little did they knew that she had felt the breeze of betrayal hard on her soft skin of the inner most part of her soul as the pale softness turned red and rough.

Roses From Him

Roses from him
perhaps the best short story i have ever written.

With every passing moment I gazed down at the wristwatch and uttered prayers to see him here and soon. We had been married last year and were so very happy. Only last year, the news of our child arriving made us as happy as horses in a hayfield or maybe more. He was supposed to come back three hours earlier but there was no sign of him yet. I knew he was a man of his words and knew what he said and so very punctual, this increased my worries. I gasped in the cold air of early January and gripped my fingers so tightly that the wedding ring on my finger begin to hurt my hand. That made me even more desperate, now my eyes were searching for him in every direction. I was out on the doorsteps for a while now and the frost had made my face quiet numb. I touched my face and spotted tears rolling down my cheeks. The winter had made them so cold. And so was he, a mile away lying on the cold streets of Karachi, people surrounding the body of my beloved, my honey. Someone had knocked him down as he was buying flowers from a hawker. They were roses and I was allergic to them. Only if I could ever know whom these roses were meant for.