Don't be that Person

-
Don't be that person who longs for the rains during yellow summers and cowers, wincing under his umbrella when the grey skies open up. Let the drops freckle every inch of your skin; let them run down your nose and sneak through your lips, their earthly taste tingling the tips of your tongue. Run a hand through your damp hair, tangled & matted with clear flecks, whirl around, scattering a million of them helter skelter. Laugh-laugh through the dampness blanketing you, loud and clear enough for the wind to deliver- somewhere miles afar, to an unknown someone, who thinks, he might, never again smile. Jump around, splash about, fling your umbrellas away. It's raining. It can mean just one thing- Go out; get wet.

 Don't go scowling about in summers. Get tanned. Turn your skin this magnificent warm brown, glistening with sweat.  Feel the sun on your skin, as it seers it way through burning away your darkness and insecurities. Be your own sunshine- bright, boundless and beautifull.

 Dry leaves fall about, having lived long & grown wise. Laze with them, roll around and yes, listen to them speak, as they whisper,  tales of things- things untold, things aeons old and things which let you mingle with nature-  her seamless serenity & bizarre beauty.

 Live. Yes, live. But don't just live. Do that word some justice. Feel things around you, drink in the harmony which nature so graciously bestows upon you, live-in the moment. You might not make it through tomorrow's dawn, nor can you relive yesterday's sunset. Now is all that you have got. Are'nt you lucky to feel the graze of gravel against your sneakers? Or to hear the thud of the day's newspaper against your door mat? Being alive itself is beautiful- Exhilarating in its own sense.

 Don't be that person who complains. Be that person who smiles, no matter how hard your tears might flow. Don't be the person who studies, be the one who learns, who explores the depths of the deepest. Be that person who connects, with people, far and beyond, inspiring one here and one there as you walk. Yes. Be that person who lives- who actually lives.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Little Girl Who Wrote About the Cow

-
Image
            Today this little girl ran to me, her unruly hair still rebelling the worn blue ribbons. Her little fist was tightly closed behind her back. I caught a jagged piece of paper peeping out of it. I smiled and feigned surprise as she held out her sacred present to me. It was indeed a paper, ruled and smoky with graphite, torn hurriedly from her little notebook. She bobbed on her toes as I read those words. The words of a child, clinging hard to the printed blue lines, a few slipping here and there, then arduously heading back to near-perfection. It was a poem- About a cow and a dog. How an arrogant dog disturbs a depressed cow and ends up having the lesson of his life delivered via a nice, well-aimed kick. Not too impressive? For me though, it’s something I would recall as a ripe old granny, knitting uselessly by the fire-place, and smile.             She was a girl who had poverty riding on her shoulders, without actually knowing it. If she sagged under its weight at ti
Read more

The Tale of the Invisible Girl

-
Image
           ‘Feminism’ has almost become a fancy word today. Intending no offense, it has certainly lost its meaning in the midst of people who brew their own lofty ideas, basing it on incomplete conversations heard at café fronts or a television show picked up from somewhere in the middle of an errant episode or on their own personal experiences, which fairly speaking, covers something but certainly not everything. Feminism is but an idea that has been brewed over centuries and centuries of events, wars, bloodshed, tears and triumphs. Women across kingdoms have carved niches and details which has lead to what it is today. Feminism is just a reminder of what women can do- what they have done-why they have a voice so gentle yet so strong. I can justify this claim by citing one woman. She had me shackled in chains of curiosity. As I read, she grew in her own shadow, a faceless woman whom the world has conveniently cast into obscurity.            Arsinoe. Dark? Beautiful? Tall? C
Read more

The Hijab clad Heroine

-
Image
It was definitely a surprise for me as I booked an Uber that mellow Egyptian morning.My eye-brows hitched  as the driver’s profile popped up. She was most certainly a woman, wasn’t she? Indeed. A fair face framed with a neat hijab and a tight smile. Not going to be one of the rides that find me drooling in the back seat!                     I ride shotgun. Maneuvering deftly through the chaotic streets, she draws down the little shade overhead. I hadn’t noticed that I was unconsciously squinting through the sunlight. She adjusts the window to just the right level, so as to hold my hair intact. I smiled at the empathy. Women have their way of doing things. Not an empty phrase. “So...How long have you been driving?”, I ask. “25 years”, words tumble out with a hint of pride. “My own car”, she pats her baby with pride. “My gift to my-” A horns blares loud. She makes one sharp swerve.  A shiny car raced by in demonic speed, narrowly missing our vehicle. “-self.”, she co
Read more