Recently, a good friend of mine Roza shared a story with the depth, it reminded me of the vulnerability of the past.
It reminded me of Japanese ritual suicide hari-kari. According to Britannica's dictionary, “The word hara-kari, means belly-cutting. The honorable method of taking one’s own life practiced by men of the samurai(military) class in feudal Japan was known as seppuku, which means “self-disembowelment.”
A list of momentum I captured in my timeline where I chased death from its tail, but it ran away.
I hate lists of listing griefs, but here I conclude an encounter with death-
1. I wanted to choke myself to death in hot water at a friend's pg (it had Victorian era Jacuzzi 🛁) because the grief made a home in my heart.
2. I was on the 4th floor of my pg and wanted to jump(did that each day: during sunrise, and at the death of night). Always standing on the edge. I still remember that feeling. It takes a lot to carry a step forward and think about ending yourself.
3. I held a paper cutter to my throat, and kept on muttering a few names to help me in the dark. Bullying is inversely proportional to happiness. That day I cried hugging my chair.... Pillows are soft and never help, but hugging a wooden chair was worth holding, for it was as hard as the feelings I went through then. It penetrated through my burnt skin. The scar from the day is still there on my forearm and chest.
4. Let that be a secret! I hallucinate thinking about it so much that the situation feels like I made it up.
The lane leading through “pastness of the past” isn't dark, but it leads me here where the amount of living a beautiful life is directly proportional to the pain I'll go through. I'll not pause to erase the sufferings because that is what gives my happiness a sheer joy, and a sense of validation.
Within this maze called life, I focus on Areema's wise words, “That past Munazza is the reason why You are here. Allah ka plan tha us Munazza se is Munazza tak lane ka. Alhumdulillah!”
Sitting with my needle and resham dhaga, I smiled at the victories only my guardian angels witnessed. I'm grateful to be a woman who's at war with herself because I have never seen a battle where I lost.
It reminded me of Japanese ritual suicide hari-kari. According to Britannica's dictionary, “The word hara-kari, means belly-cutting. The honorable method of taking one’s own life practiced by men of the samurai(military) class in feudal Japan was known as seppuku, which means “self-disembowelment.”
A list of momentum I captured in my timeline where I chased death from its tail, but it ran away.
I hate lists of listing griefs, but here I conclude an encounter with death-
1. I wanted to choke myself to death in hot water at a friend's pg (it had Victorian era Jacuzzi 🛁) because the grief made a home in my heart.
2. I was on the 4th floor of my pg and wanted to jump(did that each day: during sunrise, and at the death of night). Always standing on the edge. I still remember that feeling. It takes a lot to carry a step forward and think about ending yourself.
3. I held a paper cutter to my throat, and kept on muttering a few names to help me in the dark. Bullying is inversely proportional to happiness. That day I cried hugging my chair.... Pillows are soft and never help, but hugging a wooden chair was worth holding, for it was as hard as the feelings I went through then. It penetrated through my burnt skin. The scar from the day is still there on my forearm and chest.
4. Let that be a secret! I hallucinate thinking about it so much that the situation feels like I made it up.
The lane leading through “pastness of the past” isn't dark, but it leads me here where the amount of living a beautiful life is directly proportional to the pain I'll go through. I'll not pause to erase the sufferings because that is what gives my happiness a sheer joy, and a sense of validation.
Within this maze called life, I focus on Areema's wise words, “That past Munazza is the reason why You are here. Allah ka plan tha us Munazza se is Munazza tak lane ka. Alhumdulillah!”
Sitting with my needle and resham dhaga, I smiled at the victories only my guardian angels witnessed. I'm grateful to be a woman who's at war with herself because I have never seen a battle where I lost.
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