Before She Left…

We Humans are very funny and pitiable beings. The unpredictable nature of death make us so vulnerable to the probable and improbable universe. Planning ahead of time and there comes your end. We live and plan in a very idealistic world where nothing bad can happen. I’ll do this and that and life will be all simple and perfect as I plan, and all the plans seems to disappear into thin air when the ultimate plan start performing it’s acts. You know we should take life as a business venture. Always running a SWOT analysis before taking some bold wild step, risking things and living the return, expecting the worst and best simultaneously. This life is full of unpredictable and unexpected consequences that we would have never thought of. A happy life turns into miserable fate within no lapse. This can both turn someone strong or loss his faith over his acts completely. Difference lies in the account of taking things in the right or wrong manner. So what if this life involves such unexpectedness, we should be courageous enough to face any dire circumstances it throws upon us.

I lost a beautiful person recently. I wasn’t expecting anything like it. No one ever does. I never thought I was close to her, not until the day before she met her Creator.

She was shifted from ICU to general ward just a few hours ago. I was sitting beside her, looking at her fragile body. Thinking about her adventurous journey from a happy women to a struggling women to this unfathomable weakness and never-ending array of sickness. She doesn’t seems fine. My uncle came, two people accompanying him. One of them seems quiet peculiar. Anyways, he was the one giving some spiritual treatment to her. With all the moral uplift, he seems to bring a hope to her. She was smiling, not the kind of smile after a joke. But a serene smile with a hint of irony. He told her she’ll be home soon (and he was right, but not the way he said).

They left after she was given her daily course medicines. And she slept a few minutes later after having tea and watching a bit of cable TV in her room. I was up, was using my phone, checking out different social networks etc. Later, she was breathing loud, and noisily. She was calling ‘ALLAH’ (GOD ALMIGHTY) and ‘amma’ (mom in Urdu) after every while. She was groaning due to pain. I asked her what’s wrong, she told she’s having problem with her breathing. I waited for some time, then asked a nurse to check her condition. She woke, nurse gave her nebulizer and some injections. Which gave her a relief for some time, then she slept. I was up late, a few minutes on tab and then slept without realizing.

Woke up around fajr (morning prayer), went for it. It was cold outside. Came back, she was again surrounded by the nurses. They were giving her the medicines. Then someone brought hospital’s breakfast. She had tea, some bread and egg albumen. She was behaving normal. Watching a drama on HUMTV and commenting on some actress’s acting. I was glad. Sign of recovery, I thought. Then she slept after sometime. May be those medicines brings drowsiness. I was sitting just beside her. After a few hours she began calling ‘amma’ and ‘ALLAH’ again. She started weeping slowly. I felt my eyes diluted. Nurse came, same procedure as last night. But no relief this time. They called the docs. I kept sitting there, holding her hand and calming her. Reciting any dua (prayers) and verses I can remember. I was feeling like a worthless being, as I was unable to do anything about her pain, except to pray. I can never ever forget her voice at that time. She was telling me “faran, I am feeling too much pain to handle What am I supposed to do!?” I just told her “be strong!!” and gathered all my courage not to cry… I kept praying…

Doctor came with kind of a whole platoon, gave his juniors a bit of direction. Gave her some soothing agents I’m not aware of. But it did not calm her pain. She still felt agitated. I called my uncle before and told him, her condition. He arrived after I asked nurse to call the docs again. As she was still in the same condition.

They told us we have to shift her back to ICU. She was shifted before I left. She seems even more ill, when she’s in ICU.  She gestured me to stay and gave me her hand, I sat. But the nurses in charge asked me not to touch her or sit here long. I left a few hours later. I have never and can never speak about that time with her with anyone. It makes me lose control over my eyes…

I felt connected to her, even after coming back home. It was as if something was left with her. Her voice, her face keeps playing inside my mind. The impact of the visit was undeniable. A day after that, she passed away… She’s a brave person, very hardworking, down to earth with a beautiful soul. Ever smiling and ever caring. Making compromises and dealing with such severe pains that only a few could endeavor.


Some souls are always connected. Distance doesn’t matter to them. The purity of a relation comes directly or indirectly from the connection of the souls. But sometimes you never knew you had something like that until it’s too late, and you cannot do anything about it. Her voice always starts ringing inside my mind, whenever I pray for, or think about her.

The system can obviously run after you, as it was working before you. A single person does not create a loop hole. As it would collapse it eventually. But yes things change! It does bring a hollowness inside out. An unfilled void, for the people close to your presence, to your warmth and comfort. Take care of them in your own way. Try not to regret… until it’s too late!!


Internal Management


It’s kind of both weird and exciting to start my own blog. Weird as blogs have existed since I’ve started using internet itself, around 14 years back. Exciting as its going to be something unusual of me to share something on the internet that is close to me and my personal self. I have been always afraid of sharing something with the world. I write diary, poetry and short stories. Not for anyone but myself. Always scared of sharing and not receiving the kind of response I always wished. Writing something is easy. Writing something worthy of being written is a question every creative artist should ask him/herself before picking up a pen or typing in front of a dimly lit screen on a cloudy weather night, by an artist stroking a brush on a canvas, or by a photographer taking snap. The answer is always hidden in the approach that moves our desires, our emotions to such extent that we start procreating it in one form or the other.

I guess it’s a human nature, not to share something personal, not until the perfect time has come. The perfect gracious time that all of us, the creative beings, wait to arrive. In which we could just express the world what’s inside us, believing that it’ll be appreciated and loved. But sometimes it’s not the acknowledgment we are searching for but a catharsis, like stepping out of a deep well, scribbling a paper on a notepad so rigorously that it starts to tear apart, or wrecking a wall until your hands bleed out! It’s kind of a burden until and unless it is been poured on to a canvas, a paper, a symphony or even a photograph. It’s an emotion that cannot be explained in words. It’s something surreal, ethereal in nature.

To begin with, I have never been anyone that can be termed as creative. It might be just a sheer coincidence that I start seeing patterns whenever I close my eyes, and words came down upon me whenever I sat to write something each night on the bed. I still remember those days. Moving to Jeddah from Dammam was not just a matter of change in place, but a whole different perspective, for me at least. Jeddah has its own charms. It made me a different person. A transition, a metamorphosis in development. A cocoon turning into a moth. It gave me wings. The first poem, the first ideas shaping onto paper as something making sense, rather than words of lunacy. Writing in the light of an IKEA lamp resting on a desk drawer beside my bed. I always let my windows open, as well as the door that leads to the gallery. The air gave me some signs and symbols. A boost may be. I have never felt this tinkling, this whispering any time before this. It was something magical. Each day a new exploration. Sometimes I just kept my diary open for like hours, nothing to write. Waiting for some divine revelations… it’s a part of the deal. You have to wait. The later the better. That’s what I learned.

Anyways, coming back to the present day. I’m starting to write again, or more precisely ‘to type’. A new medium, and yet newer approach. Why am I so interested in writing a blog? Again the inner self. It never misguides me. It’s like voice of GOD. The part of yourself that has conscience, again works on the same principle. It never lies. I have no target to achieve. I’m starting a new phase of my life, or it’s better to say starting to explore it. GOD has never failed me, and INSHA’ALLAH (GOD willing), He won’t ever. That said, I’m confident enough now to speak. To counter any critique that’ll ever be thrown upon me, regarding my work, my words, or even my personal self. The story of our lives continues to expand, with each day that passes by, there’s always something or someone to learn from. Never underestimates even the tiniest bits of inspirations. Those small details helps us to understand the perplexity of life in a better way, which eventually makes us a better human, indeed…

(2:30am Jan 14, 2014)