Dreams over reality.

I had fallen asleep while talking to him and woke up to his call. He sounded worried.

It was 4:00 am and I was stuck between reality and the dream. Where am I? I panicked. Oh just my room. But why are all these lights and lamps switched on? I looked around, confused, trying to figure out. My room was brightly lit with all the fancy lamps I have always liked. The windows were wide open offering a beautiful view of the full moon against an aphotic night sky. I shivered while the cold breeze danced around me, making the tiny hair on my arms rise. I looked around some more. Everything seemed to be on it’s place except for that one box beside me. Why, oh why is it here at this ungodly hour? Why? I locked it up in a drawer I never used, didn’t I? I looked at it. Millions of memories swirled around me along with the wind making me gasp in fear. All of a sudden I could hear all those sound, the laughter, the cries and the bitter sweet words. What is happening? Why now? I tried to brush away the panic and recall some of the memories against my own will. They made me smile and cry at the same time. The times at the beach where we held hands for the first time,sitting at our favorite spot talking for hours, the never ending text messages, the sound of his laughter, my eye rolls, his slight smirk, my constant scowling, our own version of a happy world, the late night phone calls. The phone call?! I could hear the alarms ringing back in my mind but the flashbacks were too vivid to let anything overpower them. I realized I was grinning like a idiot between the non stopping tears. His face was so clear in my memories I could stretch my arm and touch him. His eyes, full of love. That smile, my favorite smile, playing at the edge of his lips. His messy, unruly hair and the black shirt I loved the most. I smiled again.

“Speak something please.” He said interrupting my reverie. I realized he was waiting for me to speak on the other side of the phone. An uninvited feeling of anger ran through my body and I snapped involuntarily, “What?!” “Uh-umm I was worried. You vanished. You’ve been quite for last 15 minutes, not responding to anything I said.” “I… Uh I was caught between the reality and the dream.” I said. He sighed. I can almost imagine his worried looks and the concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” I asked and regretted as soon as the words escaped my mouth. “Yes, absolutely. I’m okay and happy as a gay butterfly. No! How can you even ask that?”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say anything. I looked around my room once again. It looked dark even with every single source of light switched on. I hung up on him and curled beside the box of my memories. I chose to let the dreams hug me and take over the reality for that moment. I think I drifted to some unknown world I never wanted to leave.


Just tango on!

“‎No mistakes in tango. Not like life. Simple… That’s what makes tango so great. Its simple… If you make a mistake you get tangled up.. just tango on

-Scent of a Woman

Random. Too random.

No, things are not right. And maybe it’s good that way. Maybe it’s meant to be. I’m happy and that’s what matters to me at this moments. Not satisfied but happy.

I like uncertainty. It’s just that maybe I’m not still used to it. Sigh. Unprepared presentations make me feel weird. I tend to go for them when I just shouldn’t. Sigh again.

Thank You For Breaking.

This is for you Zuhair because you won’t let me send it to ET. Jerk you are.

Thank you for breaking, my bones, not my fast.

Thank you for waiting, until blood ordained your path.

Thank you for swearing on my mother’s ill fate.

Thank you for your wisdom, your pride and your hate.

Thank you for listening, for understanding my plea.

Thank you for making me unable to hear, to smell, to see.

Thank you for the sermon, your words meant so much to me.

Thank you for a speedy conversion, my life meant more to me.

Thank you for the call to prayer, I’m sure you’ve done God proud.

If it wasn’t for His Mercy, your justice was already well endowed.

Thank you for the invitation, to your hearts and your mosque.

Thank you for the laws that forbid sustenance till dusk.

Thank you for your empathy, you got the message through.

If I was poor and a Muslim, I wouldn’t have forgiven you.

– This has been written in light of several cases of flogging when people eat out in the open, or condemnation of eating openly in Ramzan. To stay patient and forbearing even when people around you are consumed in the delicacies of life is a true fast: it is not an exhibition of your piety, your righteousness, your judgement. – Zuhair Abbas Merchant