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Bhaijan
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Name: Bhaijan
Country: United States
State: Illinois
Gender: Male
Interests: The space between nothing and everything.
Expertise: nothing. nada. nil.
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
4/21/2004
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| There's something special about the things we don't have... Because this is real life and not the movies
we make choices but don't decide,
and find it impossible to overcome
the irreconsilable differences that divide. Because this is hardly the beginning
and because the ending looms so near
we're caught in webs of apparition
hurt needling our tears. Because this is real life and not the movies
all the endings are not neat
but manufactured moments
aren't nearly half as sweet. Because this is hardly the beginning
and because the ending might be close
smile in each and every scene
and keep your heart aglow with hope.
--me
8:01PM, Tuesday, 24 Febraury 2009
For K. God's Peace | | |
| The reality is.
I'd write down all my pomegranate dreams
but pomegranate seeds will drown a man
in decadence.
Simply fresh, lemon scented exuberance.
I make my case for lasting first impressions
and the effervescent last kiss
of temporary bliss.
Swallow your shade whole and un-
-aided by the slippery solution of sunshine
and rain.
Sometimes the darkness does dream
and maybe it's the split-level or the duplex
or simply the sheen of latex paint
that so confidently screens our blemishes
and our mistakes
so completely shades our misguided
misgiving about ourselves and the walls
that will tell our stories after us
Covers them in the completeness of
any great lie and waterproofs them
for God to find.
Then what of the day when you dream of
only shade but find no concoction of sunshine
and rain; only the sun, neither shine nor rain
and the pain of standing in the heat
our bodies each to each like sardines
packed in the saline of our own sweat.
What of the day when my tongue will speak
and my hands will say that I wrote these words
in vanity and greed. And my fingers scream
of the injustices that burdened them and my
mind will ask justice for my thoughts and
punishment for my dreams?
What of the moment when my eyes will
tell all they've seen?
Then I'll be asked about my pomegranate dreams
and my lemon scented exuberance and the
darkness of the concoction of my speech.
So, I'd write down all my pomegranate dreams
but pomegranate seeds will drown a man.
--me
8:40PM, Sunday, 28 Sep 08
After reading "Of Love and the Lack of It"
Last night with Sh Husain.
God's Peace
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| "Three quarks for muster Mark."
I spend most of my time looking down
at the ground.
Not out of humility but rather self importance.
But some nights, when it's late (or quite early) I look up
into the starry sky and wonder what it would be like
in some silent, simple life
as simple as this night and as silent.
Perhaps one day I might lay on some grassy knoll
beneath a romantic moon that speaks volumes
on silence and simpleness and
the company of all the stars and my own heart
would suffice.
Or perhaps, in some simple way I will find silence yet
in the center of the storm that brews in my heart:
the heart of the storm
the heart of my heart.
--me
this feels unfinished, as usual.
4:03AM, Tuesday, 23 September 08
On returning home from a night shift
BBC World Service: Discovery -- Quarks: Gellman from Joyce.
Eyes on the sky.
God's Peace
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| On a clear day...
Hello again.
This is a rectification of a mistake:
Big ups to the one and only NUH for hooking me up with a haircut that makes me look ballerific so terrific. (Now that's saying something.) JAK you big, beautiful, stud of a man.
Been home for a few weeks now. Alhamdulillah* for what we have and what we don't. Like time: I only have a few days left here. Then it's back to the heat and humidity of Karachi and of course those lengthy power outages.
Finals will be coming up towards the end of August, and boy am I in the thick. I feel like I can't remember anything I studied this year. Truthfully, I didn't study much at all, but I went to all my classes and took notes for most of them, I should know something...right? I still wonder if I'm cut out for this. Even well into my third year, I still have doubts. Apparently, this is normal; to have feelings of inadequacy and bouts of self doubt. I read it happens to all medical students, and I'd like to believe it does. That would mean that I'm not genuinely (and singularly) unqualified to become a doctor--a lot of people are. And you do know, things are always better when you're not alone.
Speaking of being alone, there's a walima^ double bill tonight. SaqibSaab with Queen4112 and Saqib-san's brother with his bride (double mashaAllah!**). I'm excited because this party was a long time coming; it's always nice to see people not alone and very much happy. And it's twice as nice when those people are people you love.
In other news, it's a very quiet 8:50AM in my house. Everyone's asleep but me. It feels like the Saturdays of my childhood.
I was reading the Pharma[cology] PreTest (Question bank) this morning and, for a brief moment, was overcome by a feeling of absolute clearness. I was almost happy is a secret way. I can't explain it but it was something like this:
Summer shade
rainy grey
linen jacket
sunny day
white dress
green grass
white smile
pink hat
easy afternoon
easy start
easy breeze
an open heart.
And now this:
To laugh often and
much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of
false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better; whether by a healthy child, a garden
patch, or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to succeed.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
God's Peace
*Alhamdulillah - All praise is for Allah.
**MashaAllah - May Allah keep/preserve/protect it/them.
^Walima - a post-wedding party, a continuation of a beautiful tradition of the Prophet Muhammad.
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| "Like some passing afternoon..."
I keep posting with extended gaps. It's not that I'm lazy, which I am, but there just isn't any poetry anymore. Not even to write of. It's not that the world has changed, but my heart has. I was sifting through some older work and I was just so amazed, that even at the early stages, there was something beautiful to be found in all things. It's said that the heart is a mirror of the world around us, and like any mirror, the clearer the glass is, the fewer smudges and stains there are, the clearer and more colorful the picture. So then the lack of poetry isn't because I've lost my ability to write either, but something else entirely. Something far more intrinsic and important.
You always hear about people "jading" with time, with experience, with age; but I wonder if the jade is a natural outcome of things, and not just a choice we make because it's easier to stop caring. I hope not, it would be awful if this were an non-undoable state. No one likes to hurt, but if that means I can find things beautiful again, it would be worth it. Nothing can be worse than unhappiness. It would definitely be worth it.
In any case, here's something a younger heart found beautiful. I'm not sure of the date it was written, it was typed from a sheet of paper three years ago (I'm guessing) so it's safe to assume it might be from four years back.
Enjoy.
There is a tree outside
this window.
Standing so still
as if a picture painted on the wall
a thousand little yellow leaves
still asleep
the topmost branches bare
balding
The wisps of cloud hang
motionless
in midair against the softness of the blue.
Unwavering sunlight
Unflickering shadow
And I am sanctified, in the
calmness of this 8:15 morning,
as the first little yellow leaf
bathed in sunshine.
—me
8:18AM
Daley Library
3rd floor spot.
God's Peace
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