Elastic hearts

They walk around the streets,

Wearing perfume on their sleeves..

Looking to share everything but trust,

Laughing for hours but crying first..

Holding hands but shadows apart,

With bodies of stone and elastic hearts..

©Hira Chaudhry

© Image courtesy: Fine art America

Advertisements

Monkey-master!

When I was a kid I saw a man in my street every day, they called him the “monkey master”.

He’ll tell his little monkey friend and he’ll dance and walk and laugh and clap. And all the kids will laugh with him..

As my childhood disappeared, so did the monkey master.. I kept wondering where did he go, what happened to him?

Years later I saw him, in an interview by a local reporter. Showing him gradually dying of poverty, as people don’t watch the monkey shows anymore. Some find it dangerous, some think it’s cruel, some say it’s unacceptable to have animals dancing around the streets. Crowds and gatherings need special permissions due to possibility of terrorist activities, etc.

They asked him, if he can do something else to make money..

He said, ” I learnt some woodwork and became a carpenter but couldn’t make as much of a living, because that’s not where my heart lies.

My monkey was my little baby, my best friend. We ate together, danced together, cried together. Every night I fell asleep thinking of all the new things we’ll learn to do together..

People don’t like to watch shows like that anymore, but that’s what I am good at. That’s all I know.. That’s what I did all my life. I don’t know how to be otherwise, be someone else.”

I realized I feel the same.. people don’t love these days, some find the term eternal love as unacceptable and preposterous. Some think it’s dangerous and even overrated, but that’s all I know. I can’t do otherwise whether someone wants it or not.. All I have is “love” to give and share.. I am like the monkey master, will I die suffering too? Just like him…

Borders

They say they created borders, to divide the land..

To make it secure..

Ironic, they ended up dividing the people..

Making love obscure..

Dad

For years I tried,

in the middle of the night..

At a lonely lake…

On a summer morning..

With a cup of tea…

Looking through pictures..

Going through your books..

Smelling your shirt..

Giving away your bike..

but failed to put you

in words..

Gangrene

“As doctors we’re taught, when a part of our body becomes gangrenous (body tissue dies due to loss of blood supply), we have to surgically remove it.. Right?” he asked looking at the scalpel in his hand shining in it’s glory..

“Yeah, that’s right! Even if it’s your right arm.. Else, it will spread to your whole body and damage vital organs!” the surgeon kept his gaze fixed on the dead body, collecting evidence for the autopsy..

“But, what if it is a vital organ that you cannot possibly survive without?” he leaned over the body, placing his hand on it’s exposed heart.

“What are you even talking about?” his gaze shifted to the resident’s face, which was paller than the one on the table.

“Nothing.. I guess we have to figure out some things on our own,” he said as he walked out of the room firmly holding the scalpel.

“Well, God’s created this miracle of a body meticulously.. We human beings have this amazing ability to survive, even if it’s cancer.. But sometimes, we don’t!

Look at the sky, dark and hollow… How many lives did you engulf to become this dark and gloomy? How many nights I spent looking at you, shedding silent tears? But who will cry for me, if I don’t survive? No one.

My heart is my biggest enemy… How long will I hold on to a gangrene? Tonight I’ll rip it out and see what happens, either it will adapt or perish.”

He raised the scalpel to his chest as water started pouring over his head.

That night, the sky cried for him with all it’s might.

Knitted

Blood turned white,

Love dark and impure..

Knitted in my soul

Are scars I can’t endure..

-Hiraa

Mother of a son!

Two young brothers lived in a town,

Their dad was their king who didn’t need a crown..

They fell in love and married two beautiful women,

Who gave birth to babies in cradles that were golden..

The baby boy was an anthlete and amazing footballer,

The baby girl was a beautiful and clever all-rounder.

Grandpa brought presents every time for the boy,

The girl stood in a corner watching him scream with joy..

So the daughter-in-law pleaded with tears in her eyes,

“My girl awaits your love, hoping each time it’ll be a surprise..”

The uncrowned king growled, as his face grew red.

The other daughter in law smirked with pride and said,

“You dare say such things when you brought us only shame,

I’m the mother of a son, who will empower our name!”

Years went by and the athlete won medals.

The daughter became a nurse and fought death battles..

Mothers grew feeble and couldn’t speak loud.

The son was now famous and got lost in the crowd..

His mother was sent to a home for the old and sick.

She waited for him through years, holding on to a stick..

The nurse came to the home and cared for the old,

Her aunt watched in silence, the girl with a heart of gold..

The girl met her aunt and asked why she was there?

She told a painful story, no parent wanted to hear..

“I am the mother of a son and thought he’s all that’s necessary,

I forgot I was a daughter too, and so were Aisha (R.A.) and Mary..”