Maat kar mujeh dosti

Maat kar mujeh dosti
Maat pooch mujhe iss nakli hassi ki saach
Hasteh hasteh aab meri hassi bhi mujpeh hasta hain
Wafa toh koi nahi, meri ansoon bhi bewafa nikla
Itna usko bahaya meneh, keh woh bhi mujko chorkeh chala gaya
Jis larki ka dil makmal ka tha, iss dunya walo neh usko jala diya

Maat kar mujeh dosti
Kahi tu bhi iss aag meh na jaal jayeh
Maat kar mujeh dosti
Is dosti ka kimaat mein na chukaneh pawanga

Maat kar mujhe dosti

*I do not speak, read or write hindi. However, from watching bollywood movies I have picked it up a little. So if my hindi comes across as broken, it’s because it is. Please feel free to correct me (nicely 🙂 )*

Translation:

Don’t be my friend
Don’t ask the truth behind my fake smile
I’ve laughed so much that now my laughter laughs at me
No one is loyal, even my tears have betrayed me
I cried them out so much, that even they have left me
The girl whose heart was of velvet, the people of this world set on fire

Don’t be my friend
What if you get burnt in this same fire
Don’t be my friend
I won’t be able to pay the price of this friendship

Don’t be my friend

Sounds better in hindi to be honest; the feelings get lost in translation.

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Born

There are those who always come first;
and then there’s me.
There are those whose tears are off value;
and then there’s me.
What wretched thing must I have done;
to be born as me.

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Their Last Time

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His eyes follow her every movement
As she dances with the other man
Licking his lips as her taste still lingers
I’m leaving a part of myself with you
Her last words to him after he ripped
Apart her heart by throwing her out
She was a distraction he couldn’t afford
That is exactly what he had told her
Her eyes had looked painfully hollow
Pleading to him silently to take her back
But unmoved he had closed the doors
He grimaces trying to clear his head
Wanting to ignore the voices in his head
‘You will never find another one like her’
His eyes flash in anger as the man pulls
Her closer and she twirls around with ease
The man leans closer to her and whispers
Her laughter reminds him of wind chimes
He curses under his breathe unable to
Stand the sight of her in arms of someone

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Student distracted by knowledge

I should be working on my essay on whether a nuclear Iran would stabilize or de-stabilize the region; however, my heart is here.

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It is a beautiful day today, where I am; however, like most students I am locked away with deadlines.

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To get away from the realities of what I am studying, instead of ordering course related books, I spent my money ordering poems that talk about love, grief, loss and how to heal.

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I find myself these days looking not for answers per say, but words that can explain how I feel. In that, there are many things I experience; one is that when someone has already put in words something I cannot explain, I feel relieved. As if this is a confirmation that I am not crazy. I also feel relieved that I am not alone; sometimes, in the darkness of pain you lose perspective and feel you are the only one who is being given this pain. Though religion dictates to me that Allah does not give anyone anything more than what they can bear, when the pain is upon me I disagree; i disagree to such an extent I think very long and hard on how to end this life and join the embrace of God. However, when i read those words, and they sing to me, i feel at one with all those is pain and still here. I feel obliged to stay so that I do not betray them.

Not only English poems though, I’ve managed to rumble through the internet and get myself hooked to old hindi poems and songs from my grandparent’s eras. Again, finding the perfect words written decades before I was born brings me the solace of knowing that this ugly world has always been ugly. It did not turn this way specifically for me. In this falling in love, I discovered how beautiful the lyrics to the songs, the meaning behind each word is.

Now listening to hindi songs from 1940 is beginning to annoy even my dad. I guess they wish I would be a little more modern, and find my old soul to much to bear. Having said that, they love me precisely for my wisdom and random crazy moments. I do feel I have aged far quicker than the average person. For my 22nd birthday, my best friend told me – it feels as if we are 30, and soon we will surpass our parents age. My back aches with pain, and the knowledge that though I have the ability to take revenge, I shall always chose not to. Though I have the ability to inflict a similar level of pain to those who almost killed me, I spend my time thinking of how to protect them,

My brother, on the other hand, feels reading these quotes and poems only hinders my progress. To him, he feels reading these only cement my pain further. He gets very annoyed if I try to recite anything I find very meaningful. I have realized however, that I cannot force him to understand. In fact, we cannot force anyone to understand if their perception is so strong that they’re not willing to look at any other view. This argument is used by the family to explain why they do not bother speaking to me – because I am to stubborn to understand anything but the truth that I have declared.

In some things, being stubborn is required; standing up for your childhood self against your pedo uncle is right. That is not something that you need to change your perception on; I shall write an entry specifically on this matter later, but for now I must return to my Iran essay. Wish me well.

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Malignant Minxes

*For those who once called themselves my sisters*

In their prettiest aesthetic vials

They sat and tĂȘte-Ă -tĂȘte’d.

Deriving pleasure from lost trials

Of others whose wounds they spread.

With their backs arched

And covered heads held high,

Knowing they’re beautifully cultured

Their purebred senses spy.

Aching to hear the next cry,

So they can lend their pretend hand

And aid with their perplexed “why”

For their entertainment, not to understand

Shrieking when it’s painfully comical,

Preaching silence when it’s morally topical,

Yet impersonating embodiment of the noble.

LIES! LIES! LIES! Scream – I shall!

If beauty is in this

In the face of humanity I hiss,

Far away from those “Perfect little Miss”

In my ugliness I am bliss’d.

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The New Me has Won

In my previous post, I concluded that I was struggling with the fight between the new found me and the old culture bounded me. I felt I should share in a small post my big achievement. Though it pains greatly to let go of what I thought could have been, what was – was not right. I am free now; the new me has won.

The cliche of “love doesn’t hurt, loving the wrong person does” is correct and no longer shall I believe that love is when it hurts. Here’s hoping I have the strength to carry on on the path I have chosen.

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