Category: Waakiye

  • A Cherished Moment: Coffee with My High School Crush

    A Cherished Moment: Coffee with My High School Crush

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe one of your favorite moments.

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    After battling fever,
    the intense body pain,
    that went up to my head,
    and down to my toe,
    like a continuous flow of blood,
    this day has brought peace,
    and with it,
    a sense of relief…

    SO,
    here I am answering,
    yet again a prompt,
    that forces to think,
    think beyond,
    time and the world that we live in…

    One of my favorite moment,
    is reliving the day when I met my first crush after a long time,
    like 5 years long time,
    when I forgot all about it,
    by pushing it in the back of my mind,
    and forcing it with responsibilities and problems of the family,
    until,
    that day…

    The day I saw them,
    traveling all alone,
    with an extreme look of dread and tiredness on their face,
    I was boarding the same train going the same direction as they were,
    I gently said to them,
    “Life has had you by the neck hasn’t it…?”
    I already had an excuse planned as I wore an earphone in the right ear,
    if they thought,
    I was making fun of them,
    but,
    on seeing me,
    those eyes shined up…

    They raised their hand,
    and asked me,
    how I’ve been,
    after telling them I’m well,
    and on asking if they were doing good..?
    they gave me a spin,
    does it look like I’m doing well,
    A wrinkled white shirt,
    which was coming out of their back,
    and a face that can only be described,
    by intense stress, pain and tiredness…

    So,
    I asked them,
    for a coffee,
    because the shop was right next to the platform,
    (Delhi residents know what I’m talking about…)
    So,
    we sat down,
    ordering two,
    and on asking if they needed something to eat with it,
    After I already ordered a brownie slice and two pre-packed cookies,
    and as we began discussing things…

    Family and their well-being,
    the people they’re still connected to,
    the work life or its balance,
    which I felt was nonexistent,
    or something that was new in their life…?

    After a while,
    our coffees came and we began sipping it,
    and then I realized,
    The dream that I had,
    way back,
    like years back,
    came true that day…

    We are sitting together,
    having coffee,
    discussing our present and the near future,
    thinking all of this was a dream,
    I pinched myself on my thigh,
    and guess what,
    it was a reality,
    where we,
    my high school crush and I,
    were happy,
    sitting and having coffee…

    And they brought a brownie,
    steaming it was,
    and with a dollop of French-vanilla ice-cream,
    as they remembered,
    didn’t you make brownies once we had a project together in a group,
    and you brought it with you to a common friend’s place…?

    Oh yes,
    I do remember,
    The taste of it still lingers on my mind,
    even though they were not warm,
    but,
    they were to die for,
    I think,
    Almost all of us remember the taste,
    because it was something that was not popular back then,
    but,
    like really,
    it was something else…

    As we began taking a bite,
    and finishing the coffee,
    telling each other our hardships and good things,
    as we got up,
    she headed towards the counter to pay for it,
    unknown I had already done that,
    (just like I used to in school time…)

    As we headed out,
    Handing her a tissue,
    to clean the corner of the lip which had some chocolate from the brownie,
    as she took it and began cleaning it,
    looking just as beautiful as the day i last saw her in school…

    As the train came and we boarded it,
    Telling her,
    the station I am supposed to get down is just the next one,
    and she stays a few stations down the line,
    thinking I didn’t have anything to do,
    I told her,
    I’ll drop her off to her station and catch a returning one…

    Shyly she agreed,
    as we talked about things we loved,
    before we could begin another conversation,
    her station was here,
    as she pulled me with her hands around my arm,
    as the train was about to close,
    as we walked down the steps and,
    I watched her go,
    turning often,
    and waving me bye…

    After she disappeared from my sight,
    I began my journey back home..

    One of the most favorite moments that I ever had…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    And,
    just like that,
    I saw,
    A familiar face…

    A memory,
    a few years that were spent together,
    were lived within a few seconds,
    in which it was all happenings,
    all were her memories…

    Some were happy some were sad,
    As we relived them once again,
    and another dream of mine,
    a coffee with her,
    without any disturbances…

    There were none,
    none that would disrupt our peace,
    our time,
    as we discussed,
    tiredness of the whole day,
    just whooshing away in thin air,
    as we drank our coffee and shared a brownie…

    The way back home,
    looking into those eyes,
    I saw something that was still there,
    a memory and a spark that we shared,
    unknown to it,
    she shared her details,
    as she tapped her phone to mine,
    and within a moment,
    we were connected yet again…

    “A Day that felt like a dream”

  • Exploring Luxuries: Perspectives and Realities

    Exploring Luxuries: Perspectives and Realities

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?

    Hi…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    A luxury I can’t live without,
    Hmm,
    it really got me thinking,
    what are the luxuries that I own and use on a daily basis…

    Then the question comes,
    what are the things that you consider luxuries,
    do you consider a car or a bike to be luxury,
    or do you consider a laptop or a phone to be a luxury,
    do you consider the roof over your head to be a luxury or
    you consider all of the above things that are basic of the basic things…?

    Where I’m from,
    having a roof over your head is a luxury,
    but,
    having a car or a bike isn’t;

    having a laptop or a phone isn’t a luxury,
    but,
    having enough money to eat daily is a luxury…

    What do you think the division of power is?
    when one side is dying to barely afford 3 meals,
    and the other generate many times as waste,

    One side doesn’t get even the basic of necessities,
    like water and a place to bath and relieve themselves,
    but,
    The other has all of these things readily available at their disposal,
    whenever they want to;

    This type of thinking that sees a stark difference and is willing to make an observation,
    and an effort to expose those who oppress and keep them in conditions similar,
    even after working many times compared to others,

    This becomes a luxury in my case,
    As I see and try to make an effort to those who suffer unnecessarily,
    by helping them,
    those who want to be helped,
    and show a genuine need and want to be helped,
    to be pulled out of this cycle that their generations were trapped in…

    A luxury that comes when a silent observant being,
    sees and processes things differently,
    when others,
    they just go and lower their head or avert their eyes to not see,
    all the wrong that goes on…

    MAYBE YOUR LUXURY AND MY LUXURY DIFFERS VASTLY,
    AND THAT’S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN US…!?

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    A wish,
    in hope a child,
    from a family that isn’t well off,
    imagines…;

    A room,
    an entire room full of toys,
    as he stares into a passerby’s home,
    a family that is loving and caring,
    he imagines,
    Is all of this his fault…?

    Is this his fault,
    being born,
    born in a family that works so hard,
    yet,
    earns so little,
    is this his fault…?

    Is this dream of a room,
    a room as big as his house,
    in which four others live,
    is this his fault…?

    As he sees the crib,
    in which the child probably sleeps,
    as big as the broken and unkempt TV stand that we have,
    which doesn’t even cover a third of the room,
    Is all of this my fault…?

    Being born in a family that’s ridden with debt,
    a child,
    another one,
    that they brought into this world,
    to curse,
    to push into something,
    that isn’t even remotely as close as living good,
    where diseases are widespread and making past 10 is a blessing,
    is,
    is being born,
    being born in these conditions,
    in this situation,
    my fault…?

    “A blame no-one will take…”
  • Why I Chose the Name Waakiye: A Personal Reflection

    Why I Chose the Name Waakiye: A Personal Reflection

    Daily writing prompt
    If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    The prompt still going crazy as usual,
    but,
    this one has me look into the old usernames and the alternate sites that I went through,
    being a sort of different name and a different vibe that I brought there…

    One of the sites that I uploaded my content to,
    shut down this year in April,
    and I began writing on it late ’22,
    so almost 3 years of my content was there,
    and there I went by a name that was randomly given to me,
    on adding my details,
    and that name still sticks to me,
    As people who became close to me,
    still call me by that name…

    Whereas,
    this name,
    Waakiye
    is much thought on,
    decided with care and thoughts that go beyond normal,
    A single word that has multiple meaning beyond languages,
    It’s meaning much different as we travel across borders,
    and get a different meaning each and every time,
    Hence the considerations before coming at this..

    The real name that I carry,
    From birth,
    there’s no such thing as pure and serene as that,
    so,
    there’s no changing that,
    and the name that you all recognize me by here,
    Stays on forever…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    A person sitting in a dimly lit room with their back to the camera, looking towards a window light.
    A word,
    a name,
    that lives forever becomes the game…

    For years upon years,
    I tumbled,
    and got humbled,
    within a few years,
    I found myself,
    A name with limited excel…

    A presence of which I became a seeker,
    and traveled far lands,
    caught within these walls,
    called the mind…

    So I sought,
    one day,
    the writing,
    these lines,
    these sentences,
    these (Waakiye)…

    They’ve been,
    and will be,
    from the very beginning,
    till the end of me…

    “A worthy name….”

  • कफ़न में ना लौटने की अभिलाषा: एक बेटी का संघर्ष

    कफ़न में ना लौटने की अभिलाषा: एक बेटी का संघर्ष


    कफ़न में आना मंजूर है,

    उस बेटी का,

    जिसको पाल पोस कर बड़ा किया;

    लड़ झगड़ कर ना आए वापस वहां,

    बचपन बीता जहां उसका

    हर बार यही कहा;

    जलील हो एक बार,

    बार बार,

    लाखों बार,

    सांस लेना हर एक पल उस घर में,

    जो लगने लगा अब कैद—खाना;

    ताने सुनने पड़े हर बार,

    कभी छोटी जात को ले कर,

    तोह कभी ना आना पैसे वाले खानदान से;

    कफ़न में आना मंजूर है,

    उस बेटी का,

    जिसको पाल पोस कर बड़ा किया;

    वोह एक बार हाथ उठा दिया जो,

    सहम गई वोह,

    रोती—रोती सोचने पर मजबूर,

    ना किया किसी ने ऐसा उस घर,

    जहां से आई वोह;

    देखने पर कोई निशान नहीं,

    हादसा ऐसा,

    जिसकी कोई चोट नहीं,

    पर दुख और पीड़ा अनंत,

    ना जाने कैसे सहार गई;

    वापस जाने को आज कोई घर नहीं,

    जहां से आई वहां के लिए,

    दरवाजे बंद,

    किसी दुख के मुकाम पर,

    वहा के दरवाजे बंद जहां बिताया बचपन मैने;

    खुश होंगे जरूर,

    खुशी दिखेगी,

    चेहरे पर,

    आँखें भी नम होगी,

    जाऊंगी में वापस जब,

    उस दिन खुश होंगे सभ;

    कफ़न में आना मंजूर है,

    उस बेटी का,

    जिसको पाल पोस कर बड़ा किया;

    तब देखेंगे,

    सब गौर से,

    अरे,

    ये तोह,

    बचपन में इसी घर में तोह खेली ये,

    पर,

    उस पल भी सोच में होऊंगी मैं,

    क्या वोह अमीरी जिसकी कमी थी,

    इस घर भी,

    उस घर भी,

    क्या वोह पाई किसी को,

    या ले गई मैं अपने इस किस्मत की अमीरी अपने साथ;

    उस सफेद में,

    आऊंगी वापस,

    पर आऊंगी लेके चेहरे पर एक मुस्कान,

    क्योंकि,

    दुखी होके,

    किसी का दिल दुखा के,

    लड़ झगड़ के

    आना,

    मना जो है मेरा….।

    A young girl with long dark hair, partially covered by a white cloth, gazes intensely at the camera with a serious expression. She has a small red bindi on her forehead and her skin has warm tones, conveying a deep emotional presence.
    A sense of loss,
    profound,
    filled with grief…

    Every breath taken,
    in a sense,
    to last longer,
    than the last…

    The pain,
    like
    a slow working poison,
    hurting as its traveling to parts different,
    and eats from within the being…

    A sense of doom,
    looms over the person,
    a fear that haunts,
    reminding,
    of the change in dynamics,
    of the responsibilities that were shed,
    once she was given from a home,
    to a house,
    unknown…

    Numerous calls,
    a wish to return,
    A wish to see the faces of those remaining,
    BUT,
    A strict no,
    stood in the way,
    As she breathed,
    drank,
    dabbed herself in poison,
    each day,
    until the blue,
    overcame her,
    and there she lay,
    in a cloth pure white,
    a call was made…

    A call was made,
    that carefree father’s laughter,
    turned into nightmare,
    as tears started to fall,
    the drive was painful,
    The words barely leaving,
    As they saw,
    their daughter,
    or what remained of her,
    in a cloth,
    PURE WHITE…

    Wishing a conversation,
    a last one,
    but,
    unaware of the fact,
    they themselves closed that gate shut….!
  • Nostalgia for Childhood: Living Without Screens

    Nostalgia for Childhood: Living Without Screens

    Daily writing prompt
    Do you remember life before the internet?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    You’re not gonna believe that I was curled up in my bed,
    thinking as the clock stuck 00:00 hours,
    I should read something before going to sleep,
    (Trying to induce a habit of reading..)
    As I picked a book from my collection,
    it was either Khalil Gibran’s collection,
    or,
    it was metamorphosis by Kafka which I bought,
    the night before i.e. Sunday night from a roadside book seller…

    Before I could even focus my eyes on the words written on the first page of metamorphosis,
    It felt blurry,
    remembering little,
    the character turned into bug,
    there was a description,
    how he looked at himself,
    who he was,
    looking at the picture he hung that he cut out of the magazine…

    that’s all I could remember,
    the first page that to barely,
    I thought to myself,
    is this the same mind that read pages upon pages during its prime…?

    As I put the book in its place,
    a wall mounted drawer,
    and tried to fall asleep,
    but,
    I couldn’t,
    I was using 3 devices simultaneously before,
    my phone checking the messages,
    getting updates from a brother who’s fighting an addiction,
    and doing a splendid job keeping at it,
    Another one,
    who just came back from giving a competitive exam,
    and has had a long day,
    requiring a full day’s sleep to be in working condition again,
    another one who opened a new office and is dying from traveling as the commute has added 3 hours which he has to steal from these 24 hours…

    My laptop for penning down my thoughts and ideas,
    in the WordPress app,
    as a few ideas flew by me,
    one of which I explored last night,
    and wrote a prose in a language commonly spoken here,
    about a girl who is held in boundations,
    and isn’t welcomed by her maternal home,
    in a setting that is absolutely heartbreaking….

    My wireless sound bar,
    which played one of the favorite playlists that has songs from Panjabi culture,
    some Hindi songs and Gazals or a collection of old poetry,
    which brought me immense joy,
    and every once in a while,
    a new song would pop in and I’d have to change it,
    and remove it from my playlist…

    Surrounded by these things,
    I thought of a life before all of this,
    these devices,
    these apps,
    these screens and,
    it took me back to a time when we had those buttoned phones and nothing more…

    I remember,
    getting bored of playing snake game and then going out to play with my friends in the colony we grew up in,
    we used to run after each other,
    play hide and seek,
    hopscotch because we had these sandstone blocks outside our home,
    which would make it way easier to prepare and play around,
    but,
    those memories were blemishing,
    maybe I forgot some of it…

    We used to wake up early,
    watch our grandparents light an incense stick in prayer room,
    after then watching them read the newspaper on the rocking chair,
    sipping on their piping hot tea,
    occasionally taking a bite of biscuit or rusk that was kept right next to their cup and saucer…

    I remember rushing to take a bath,
    after that hurriedly chomping down breakfast,
    it was something light like poha,
    or a paratha (Indian flatbread with filling),
    something that we all loved,
    after that going to school where we used to enjoy our friendship,
    meeting those who we liked from the bottom of our hearts,
    some crushes,
    some whom we adored,
    and found cute…

    Our parents went to their work,
    father returning home late around 8 or 9,
    mother returning home early and preparing evening snacks for us kids,
    and preparing dinner for the people in the house,
    and finally getting back to bed,
    late around 11 pm or 23:00 hours…

    Occasionally going out to buy sweets like jalebis,
    or something,
    never missing the night walk,
    staring at the starry sky and the moon,
    as we used to walk back home,
    tiredness kicking in as soon as we reached home,
    and falling asleep under,
    the rotating fan and occasional cooler blowing cold air which turned into hot after it ran out of water,
    and then replacing it with new water after cleaning it to remove the foul smell…

    The respect that we held for our elders and the stories that we heard from their own mouth,
    that too very keenly,
    shaping our beliefs and moral compasses,
    without many distractions,
    we were able to focus better;
    and having a genuine relationship because of face-to-face conversations,
    and learning about our culture and heritage from the word of mouth,
    rather than having to search google or YouTube just like these…

    A time to remember and cherish it was…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    Those were the good days,
    we keep on telling ourselves,
    as the generation that grew up playing outside,
    before the technological advancement that made our lives,
    Easier yet more chaos filled…

    Remembering,
    crying to our parents to play outside,
    our eyes feel watery this day too,
    But,
    seeing the roads empty,
    break our heart shattering them into little pieces,
    a history of fun gone,
    replaced by technology…

    That crying before going to school,
    and the tiredness that surrounded afterwords,
    that sleeping after coming home,
    or those time spent,
    during exam period,
    cramming everything into this little brain of ours…

    Then pouring it all into these exam papers,
    but,
    remembering those times brings nostalgia,
    that keeps us from forgetting those good times…

    Going out with our parents after they returned home from work,
    grabbing ice cream as they talked to each other,
    worries about our well-being,
    our school life,
    and their personal life too,
    remembering them talking to each other we used to feel happy,
    that we were blessed with such caring and worried parents,

    “The Simpler times”
  • How Writing Transformed My Self-Perception

    How Writing Transformed My Self-Perception

    Daily writing prompt
    What are you good at?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…!

    I woke up late and I saw this prompt,
    and thought to myself,
    “Am I good at something…?”…
    And I stared at the rotating fan,
    for an hour thinking of inducing a thought…

    Am I a good daughter/son to my mother…?
    Am I a good aunt/uncle to the kids that surround me…?
    Am I a good sister/brother to those who are around me…?
    Am I a good friend to those who call me theirs…?
    Am I even a good person,
    or people around me just tolerate me…?
    Am I…..?

    The reality blemished when I realized that I’m ruthless,
    when it comes to myself ,
    I don’t give myself a chance,
    I keep myself in well bound time,
    meticulously planning each and every moment,
    prioritizing time,
    but making none for myself…

    I took up art as a kid and left it in the middle,
    I picked up table tennis, basketball, badminton and gave up all of them in the middle,
    I won’t say that I got good at them,
    but,
    just gave up before I could or I met an invisible boundary that made it impossible for me as a non-earning kid to overcome…

    Before I could even grab what was happening,
    I was pushed into work,
    because I wasn’t good in anything,
    where I tired myself day and night,
    so much so,
    that I wouldn’t have enough time to think about anything,
    my liking,
    my interests,
    my own personal opinions and choices,
    No time to think about things that could broaden my horizon,
    my thought process,
    so I spent a couple of years just looking at things from a perspective,
    that a lifeless soulless being,
    and kept my head down…
    UNTIL…

    Until I found this penmanship,
    and took it to myself to make it better,
    and a sole goal in my life to be good at something,
    something that I liked,
    loved,
    and wished to be a big part of my life,
    and I honed it,
    like my life depended on it,
    and kept on doing this,
    making little time here and there,
    scribbling in my notes app,
    or my trusted partner,
    pen and a notepad in which I wrote my raw thoughts and,
    thought on them,
    hours upon hours until,
    I felt satisfied that my thought process has evolved,
    but,
    that too didn’t feel enough…

    So,
    That’s what I exactly did,
    for a few seconds,
    turning into minutes,
    those turning into hours,
    hours into days,
    days into weeks,
    weeks into months,
    and months into years…

    Take a wild guess how long it has been now,
    that I’m writing this,
    and I shall correct you in the comments box….

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    ← Back

    Thank you for your response. ✨

    Choose one option

    A lone,
    all alone,
    in search of copper
    I struck gold…


    A vastness,
    unexplored,
    a bottomless pit
    in which I found myself…

    Impossible to climb out of.
    If it were someone else,
    it wouldn’t be possible,
    But-

    it’s me.
    And I say:
    “I’m-possible.”

    It’s possible,
    because it’s me..

    But,

    Never has this been me:
    A person who loved himself…

    Available for those around,
    round the clock,
    until I found…

    I found
    the thing I was meant for
    or
    something that saved me from it.

    “The Search That Found Me…”
  • Why Each Day Feels Like a Lie

    Why Each Day Feels Like a Lie

    Daily writing prompt
    What sacrifices have you made in life?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    The prompt of this day made me realize,
    as it gave me a chance to look back at what sorts of things,
    I’ve taken just because,
    also,
    Taken them up on the face value,
    thinking it was for a betterment of a figure bigger than me,
    but,
    all of that turned out to be false,
    when it came to my realization,
    that i was just a stepping stone…

    I’ve summed up in a single post a part of my life,
    how I used to live,
    telling myself lie after lie,
    and how i made an ultimate sacrifice of losing myself,
    my life for a place that doesn’t give 2 F’s about me,
    my life or my well-being…

    Every waking moment,
    just as I woke up,
    It felt like,
    A sacrifice was made;

    A lie,
    I started with a lie,
    “That this day shall be a good one…!”
    “This day will be a good one”
    “I will give my 100% and I will make the best out of the day…”
    will this day be a good one?
    I used to ask myself…

    As the day began,
    the morning coffee,
    which I brutally messed up,
    I told myself another lie,
    “It happens,
    it’s easy to mess up,
    It’s easy to mess a CUP OF COFFEE…..?
    is it easy to mess up a cup of coffee?
    I used to ask myself…

    As i got late,
    yet again,
    because I forgot myself within my thoughts while taking a shower,
    and i hurriedly didn’t take breakfast,
    I asked myself,
    “Was it worth it,
    to spend time thinking instead of leaving for work early…?
    was it worth it to be trapped in traffic for the 20 minutes which could have been avoided,
    if you didn’t think,
    if you could have just taken a shower and left for work,
    But,
    Oh no you couldn’t,
    so now you’re stuck in traffic,
    STAY STUCK IN IT….
    was it my fault to be stuck in traffic?
    I used to ask myself…

    Now the boss won’t leave you alone,
    you forgot the mail that you were supposed to send yesterday evening,
    you heard an earful,
    but you couldn’t say anything,
    “You knew you were at the wrong here,
    You made a reminder but forgot as you reached home,
    because you lay flat and woke up late at night to change and hit the bed yet again without eating…!”
    was it my fault i reached home late or i was overworked?
    I used to ask myself…

    The entire afternoon,
    i spent working on things that were the part of yesterdays,
    and had to work all alone on the project that was a part of someone else’s job just because they were full of work already…
    Couldn’t eat lunch so I got another coffee,
    as the day came to an end,
    I started what work I was assigned this morning,
    it got late,
    as clock hit 9,
    It was a reminder to leave office and head back home,
    “Was I in the wrong here,
    because i didn’t take anything home today,
    but,
    i was asked to update this day’s work tomorrow morning,
    so,
    i had to take work home…”
    why did i have to take work home…?
    I used to ask myself…

    On reaching home around 10 pm,
    having no energy to cook anything,
    I ordered some takeaway,
    to be delivered under an hour,
    I looked in horror as dinner would arrive at 11.
    on canceling the order and making something like rice and eggs at the place i call home,
    I took a seat at the desk,
    and began the work,
    before I could look up,
    it was 1 am,
    saving it I closed my device and hit the bed,
    I wish I could have done this yesterday,
    Or the day before,
    Or the day before that,
    Or the day before that,
    I used to ask myself…

    An ultimate sacrifice that I made,
    was giving a place my years,
    when all in return I got were literal peanuts,
    and trauma that still haunts me this day,
    Just like I am up this morning,
    time being 4:32 AM IST,
    I remember when I used to curse myself for bringing this life upon myself…

    But those days are gone now,
    And I really wish from the bottom of my heart a well life for those who are employed there or starting work there…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    Often I found myself,
    contemplating life,
    the choices that led to this point,
    and one of these days,
    I sat down,
    just like the image,
    surrounded by the sea of files,
    a cup of coffee on my left,
    in which remained a single gulp,
    and,
    on my right was a fresh cup that I poured,
    moments before…

    Just like this,
    exactly like this one,

    all until one day,
    I looked back at the situation i was in,
    killing me slowly this work,
    As I felt burdened,
    threatened by the piles of work that was pushed onto me,
    just because I was swift,
    or was given additional responsibility,
    without me ever thinking about it,
    considering it all normal…

    Until it wasn’t,
    Until everything going around me wasn’t…

  • Cherished Memories: The Stories in Our Skin

    Cherished Memories: The Stories in Our Skin

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    The prompt of this dame really made me think,
    And,
    I think there would be a variety of answers that all of you would be seeing,
    most of them would include a piece of clothing that they would cherish or own from a long time that would have seen better days but,
    not being your usual writer,
    I know what all of you are in here for…

    How would you feel if i said the oldest thing I’m wearing is,
    “MY SKIN”

    I do owe all of you an explanation,
    Skin,
    MY thick skin being one of those things,
    the one which has been with me from the very beginning of my essence,
    no fabric,
    no piece of cloth could ever match what my skin has felt through the years…

    Even though it renews itself every month and a half,
    it holds memories that still stay with me to this day,
    The Scars,
    The heat of the Sun,
    a special someone’s touch,
    the test of time—
    all of them leave a mark.
    It’s been my shield,
    a blank canvas that I was born with,
    a story that I am writing as each day progresses…

    THIS body of mine holds a tactile archive,
    a memory through sensations that only I remember,
    Even if the world forgets,
    I remember the weight of denim,
    the scratch of wool,
    the comfort of cotton on a tired day,
    the itchiness of a cloth I’m not well suited to,
    the rash that burned,
    and caused me pain,
    the time I fell from my two-wheeler and blood that oozed out of my skin,
    I remember it clearly as yesterday,
    each and every moment clearly…

    Sometimes this body remembers what the mind isn’t sure of;

    A warmth in the chest,
    A phantom touch on the cheek,
    A comfort that feels real,
    even if the facts are blurry…

    Maybe it’s memory,
    Maybe it’s hope stitched into survival,
    Maybe it’s both.

    What matters is that it helped me keep breathing,
    the memories that this mind often forgets,
    they stay on this skin,
    whenever,
    someone crosses me,
    a familiar scent,
    an accidental touch (for which I apologize)
    it sets into action a string of memories hidden deep within me,
    of which this mind has either forgotten,
    or,
    suppressed to make place for other ones…

    But,
    there’s something that I tell myself,

    You’re here,
    Still breathing,
    Still remembering,
    And that’s not nothing…

    Just like a chain that you forget that is wrapped around your neck,
    after wearing it for a long time,
    the body adapts to it,
    and when accidently it gets stuck in a piece of cloth,
    you remember an existence of it;

    That chain becomes like a quiet truth:
    Something can be with me always,
    even if I forget it’s there…

    And maybe that’s how grief feels.
    Or love,
    Or pain,
    Or memories,
    or existence of it…;

    Worn so long against the skin that One stops feeling it,
    until one small movement brings it back into view,
    glinting with the light of something lost but never fully gone…

    Here’s to reliving all those memories after reading this one,
    also play with your chain or a mala of thread or beads that exist around your neck or your wrist…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    With these memories that we once considered precious,
    made a promise to never forget them,
    They blurred without a trace from this mind….

    But does this mean We’ve forgotten,
    Does this mean we’ve given up,
    Of Course, not.

    Their existence continues to thrive,
    in a way we speak,
    the choices that we make,
    the softness that takes a front when we see someone hurting,
    or
    the hardness that makes us stand on someone’s way if it means it will save someone…

    Been through things tough and extremely challenging ones,
    we’ve learned to carry weight,
    to protect ourselves.
    we’ve built something around our softness,
    not to hide it,
    but to survive,
    maybe try to thrive in it…
  • Controversial Opinions: The Impact of Public Figures

    Controversial Opinions: The Impact of Public Figures

    Daily writing prompt
    What public figure do you disagree with the most?

    Hi….

    I hope all of you are doing well…!

    This question comes a time that is so fragile,
    with a fight that goes on the border region,
    turning into a full-blown war as each day proceeds,
    but,
    across this,
    the one who faces all of the heat are those who are in the region of crossfire,
    the people who existed and continue to exist within the 0 to 50 km range of the borders,
    and from their point,
    just existing,
    living their lives has become a problem,
    that won’t go anywhere anytime soon,
    but,
    the reason for this full-blown fight-off,
    the reason that some “terrorists”,
    took innocent lives at a place that apparently had no army presence which it needed to have being the sensitive nature of the territory that it is,
    but
    who had to make sure the enemy presence was there or nor?
    who had to make sure that the army personnel were already present there to ensure safety of the territory and any person who were to be there…

    What,
    do you have any answer than those whom we appointed,
    who became these ministers,
    who are at a place that we consider they achieve to serve,
    but,
    they’re there to fill their pockets,
    the immense greed that takes over their mind and body,
    and,
    let situations like this happen,
    where people like you and I become the one who gets caught,
    loses their lives,
    and then,
    hangs a photo of those whom we lost,
    considered as victims of the war…

    This post became dark really quickly,
    but,
    the type of person one becomes after joining politics,
    no matter how clean or good they are,
    they become the type of evil where things like these become,
    happening that are imminent,
    they can’t ever be avoided,
    But can’t they,
    If precautionary measures would have been there well in advance…?

    A thought…

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    From the comfort of your homes,
    The four walls within which you feel safe,
    The word WAR feels like something that should have already started,
    but,
    For you and me,
    it’s all in the news,
    not something that has bothered us even a single bit…

    But,
    What about those who are involved in it,
    Those who live in the area that has seen shellings,
    their sleep disrupted by constant bombings,
    As they’re awoken by a bomb blasting near them,
    In their vicinity,
    as they try to sleep their way through it all…?
  • Whisper Collector: A Job for Just One Day

    Whisper Collector: A Job for Just One Day

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?

    Hey…

    I hope you all are doing well…!

    This question had me bugging as soon as I logged in on the app last night,
    a job that i would do just for a day,
    a single day,
    and never again,
    never ever again…

    I was thinking about being a WHISPER Collector;

    Imagine being a wall,
    a bench in a secluded spot,
    a crack in a wall,
    an old Tyre that has been sitting,
    or even a dark alleyway…

    And from each of them,
    oozing soft whispers,
    that come to your ear,
    in the voice of those people who aren’t there anymore…

    Imagine hearing someone confess their secrets;

    Someone telling how much they love the person who is moving infront of them,
    and within whispers you hear,
    the soft voice of the person moving infront of them,
    telling the alleyway how much they love them and want to be with them forever…

    As you move from the alleyway to the remains of what seems like a playground,
    You start to hear crackle of children,
    their laughter,
    and from them seeps voices of few parents who brought their kids to the playground,
    as I go past the swings,
    and reach a big swirling slide,
    from there i heard,
    crackling of happy children,
    Amongst them a sad voice,

    in a sad voice
    “Have to go, dad has to go to work,
    we’ll be back tomorrow”
    in a crying voice…!

    I wish they did meet tomorrow,
    or escaped to safety safely…

    Tears streaming down my face,
    this has to be something that should be done only once,
    and once only as,
    the screams of those who lost their lives started to come to these ears…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    With a lantern I was handed,
    told in a voice stern to walk through the night.

    With the secrets to unfold,
    in the shadows to move unheard,
    Each whisper that i heard,
    shall remain in my head forever.

    The regret of lost,
    the silent ones,
    and those who didn’t make it,
    Amongst those whose voice,
    traveled from far a places,
    to reach my ear with a sense of relief,
    in a bittersweet way a soft smile stays,
    on this face saddened with grief…