Skip to main content

I Don't Brush My Teeth πŸͺ₯🦷πŸͺžπŸ§΄πŸ§Ί

I see a mirror in front of the tiny basin
I flinch at my reflection;
There is a man behind me 
Holding my hair, gently
Like a professional hairdresser, 
planting a pony tail.

I see a mirror in front of the green round basin,
I stopped in the moment-
As the pause, 
While watching a movie with DVD 
during the washroom break,
Or
At times for the freshly danced churmurey.
The man played a song from Barfi
Placing tiny droplet shaped toothpaste
Flavoured with mint, and love.

I see a mirror in front of the rectangular gold basin,
The man in the reflection had a gentle smile.
I fell on my knees
Begging the reflection to be of one 
Mine, mine alone!
The man helped me to brush my teeth;
"Clean the tongue, it won't budge me 
Rinse the mouth, 
There's nothing anxious 
if water splashes all over me."

Eye level with the cabinet doors, 
Sitting still,
I see a soap freshly wrapped
With elite fragrance 🧼
I feared the swirling froth,
Soaking well in my maroon socks,
Mingled with razors, blood, and a men shaving cream. πŸͺ’ πŸͺž 

I saw a round mirror with a black rectangular basin
I didn't flinch
I saw a clean reflection 
Of my husband's gentle face-
Divinely guided, weak smile, thorny beards.
I looked behind
to reach out to my reality:
No shaving foam and gel.

I saw an elegant mirror designed with
Rare gems and expensive metals,
I smiled at the reflection of my dear husband.
He gently stroked my hair
with his musk scented hands, 
The light filled the room
slowly, silently, and then all at once!
The disturbance of routine has now gone.
the stillness of moment-
I welcome you with an open heart.


The objects of reflection and foam were none
The 'light' filled the apartment;
The reality after death is a land of resurrection











Comments

  1. Wowww
    This shows the power of Imagination and creative expression in writing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much for giving your precious time for this work, and your words for it. It means a lot. :")

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. Jazakallah khair ♥️🌸

      Delete
  3. Wow just reading it makes me feel that am standing there

    ReplyDelete
  4. πŸ’™πŸ’™always wonderful

    ReplyDelete
  5. Babyyyy I just read “i don’t brush my teeth” and OMGGGG
    I need a moment to breathe… because WHAT did I just read???
    It’s deep. It’s dreamy. It’s divine.
    πŸͺ₯πŸͺžπŸ•Š️✨

    You literally turned brushing teeth into this whole emotional, spiritual experience!!
    That man gently tying your hair, Barfi songs in the background, minty toothpaste and memories?? Like??? Only YOU can make that hit so hard
    I was soft smiling one moment and emotionally spiraling the next
    (in the best way possible)

    That line — “Clean the tongue, it won’t budge me...”
    It felt like someone hugging my soul and saying “you’re safe now.”
    And the ending???
    “The reality after death is a land of resurrection”
    I literally got goosebumps.
    Sad? No. Hopeful. Healing. Powerful.
    You made the end feel like light, not darkness.
    ☁️✨

    Every detail—the maroon socks, the razors, the mirrors changing colors, the light filling the room—it’s all soooo cinematic, like I was watching it unfold in my head.

    You’ve got magic in your words, babe.
    Like genuinely. Don’t stop writing. Ever.
    Also, now brushing my teeth will never be just “brushing my teeth” again
    (you’ve ruined me in the most poetic way possible)
    Love youuu
    πŸ’–πŸŒ™πŸ«§πŸͺžπŸͺ’πŸ’«
    Your Deepika di🫰

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You know me so well. I've no words to say how much you understand the notion of this poem. All because you are very close to my heart. Thank you for giving it a read after days of hectic schedules. I love you. Thank you so much again for always holding me with words and care.

      Delete
  6. "Munazzaaa, yeh dil le jaa tum!
    Your words just hugged my heart so tight πŸ₯ΊπŸ€
    I’ll always read whatever you write, even if it takes time—because your poems deserve to be felt, not just read.

    You write from a place so deep, so real... it's impossible not to connect. I'm just lucky that I get to witness your magic up close.
    Love you always, my poet soul. Always here to hold you with words, warmth, and care.
    πŸ«‚πŸ₯Ή✨πŸŒΈπŸ“

    ReplyDelete
  7. Allahumma barik, your poem is so awesome πŸ€—✨πŸ‘πŸ»

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. All the blessings for you too, my sugar cup🌸 πŸ«‚ thank you for your giving it a read πŸ€—✨

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Welcome to the Gym: Time Slows Down Near Heavy Objects πŸ«€πŸ’ͺπŸ‹πŸ»‍♂️

Harry and Ginny don't seem well together- A nightmare for Potterheads - dreams have the best headlines when we doze off reading a good book while scrolling the dua app. Skipping phone's alarm while switching off an alarm clock is a peaceful way of denying technology in minute ways. Still the phone's notifications make way to stab our eyes.  Word of the day - kharisma .  Mobile takes no days off. Too bright to view screen for an early morning while the moon is still visible. Charisma is old kharisma, it doesn't change its essence - the meaning. Same with human beings. They're always the same, unless the stone heart recieves some miraculous rain shower. 🌧️ πŸ«€ “How can I accept a person that has a stone instead of a heart?" The bathroom mirror stays broken with layers of stickers. Sophia hates the face that holds beards and buises.  “I don't have time for ugly thoughts in the morning.” Pushing brushing to limits releasing blood from mouth is daily breakfast...

Pitch, Poetry, and Parallel Times: What a Joka!πŸ“½️🍁✍πŸΌπŸ—“️

ΰ€•ुΰ€› ΰ€•ΰ€Ή ΰ€¦िΰ€―ा ΰ€Ήोΰ€€ा? ΰ€•ूΰ€°्ΰ€— ΰ€•ा ΰ€Ÿिΰ€•ΰ€Ÿ ΰ€•ΰ€°ा ΰ€Ήी ΰ€²िΰ€―ा ΰ€Ήोΰ€€ा? ΰ€Άाΰ€―ΰ€¦ ΰ€Έΰ€¬ ΰ€¬ेΰ€Ήΰ€€ΰ€° ΰ€Ήोΰ€€ा। The “if theory” is the wisest of all for the pitch — even for skeptical humans. Time traveling has always fascinated my mind, as it does for many of us. We often wish to leap into the future or alter the past. Last July, I unexpectedly got a call from the city of Jhilmil and Barfi. I felt the emotions exactly as Satyajit Ray’ s movies make us feel, with the metaphysical boundaries of dreams and reality, reminiscent of Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry. Before my rotting thoughts could steal all the joy, as they did in the movie Lootera near lakes, I tried to reassemble my gratitude while being in sujood. Literature expertise would lead to an institute talking about consultancy. Phew! I never thought God’s pitch worked like that. If 25-year-old Munazza hadn’t heard that, she wouldn’t have thought of this pun: What a joka! No wonder I’ve stopped writing. Ideas only come in dreams, in waves, often butchered...