Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Phantasm




Icy winds sailing through

Seeping into
my very bones,

Cut open,
my soul

Howling now they pass
From me towards you.

....

Afloat you lay,
Drenching in the frosty rain

Tearing like the red sea,
Feeling the raw pain

Spurting water
Gasping for air,

Bleak eyes gazing with solace.

...

Shivering
Teeth clenched

I wake up from the daze,
Chilling the rolling fears

Wrapped in a soothing caress
The fog slowly drifts away

Awaiting warmth
I lie with you in December days.

-Fatima

Thursday, August 6, 2015

One Step At a Time

Dear Student,

"To be a part of a child's life and celebrate his every little success forms the greatest moments of any teacher's life."

There are days, more like moments when you are downright confused, messy and in a haze of a crazy spiral mess. The more you share the more varied views or advice you receive. And if, you are not completely sane and in one of those moods it affects you the most, dampening your mood and spoiling your day. It's not just you whose affected but the people you hang out with; your colleagues and if you're a teacher the worst hit party are your students. They bear the brunt of your mood swings. But is it right or is it mental? It would be unwise to say, you're correct and blame your students for everything, "Hey I was stressed out and you added to it" or "It's all your fault, kids these days I tell you no respect for elders or teachers." et al. I mean it's easy to jot down excuses and blame others, why do we not look at our faults? It could have been us and not them.

From the past one week or so, I've been listening to this; "You're too friendly or you care too much. It's okay to care for your friends and family. But there is a line between a student and a teacher. You shouldn't be friendly with them, at least not outside the class and blah blah." End of story what all that yielded was;
1. Not to be friendly to students.
2. Only be strict.
3. Do Not Care, there's a line that divides you.

I freaked up, big time. On one hand I've had some exceptionally awesome teachers, who went on caring for us like we were their own kids. And the best part was, they loved us; loved me, were friendly & caring, heard us out even if they couldn't help us and always, always gave us advice; not the bookish one but of their own experiences. And I realize we respected them, still do and even remember them, are in touch with them, if not all some. They taught well, maybe they weren't perfectionist, no one is or maybe they were. But they respected us, us students. And looking back now, I don't remember how they taught me or if, they ever made a goof-up in class, what I do clearly remember is, how they made me feel. Heck, they didn't even lose hope in me when I and my so-called friends thought I was a lost cause. After all, all we need is a bit of love, hope & lots of faith.

And today I finally took the courage to ask my mum, "Hey what kind of a teacher were you?" And you know what she told me? "I was friendly, caring; I was new obviously so it was not a cake walk everyone is at one point but I maintained good relations both in and out of class. Experience and perfection in teaching comes with time, when delivering a lecture. But friendliness it should be there from the start. And what you need to have is patience, lots of patience."

This reminds me I read somewhere, "It doesn't matter if your student is 5 years younger to you or 15, he or she is your student & if you treat them well, they will treat you well, and respect you." After all to gain respect & friends one should be the same. You get what you give.

There will be hundred's of people who will advice you, but only ten will truly do and mean it. So today, my confusion has resolved and I'm sorry for being mean and selfish and for being angry when there was no need, anger is never the solution. I love you guys and that's it. I've loved every single student of mine that I've taught till date and In shaa Allah will do in future too.

And an ending quote, "The best thing about being a teacher is that as they grow, we grow with them."

-love, Fatima


P.S: The opening and closing quotes of this letter are from, Make A Difference page couldn't help but share.


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Solitary Solitude


















Walking through the woods
I sometimes feel so alone
A void engulfs and the air stills
With none but just the sound of my boots.

Trodding the barren road
I cross a shallow stream
Submerging grief and kindling dreams
Listening to the sloshing sound of my bare feet.

Strolling a bit further down
I reach the end of the narrow trailing route
Pondering, the silence slowly flows
Hearkening to the whooshing hush of my sitting knees.

Reaching the cold rock lastly
Towards the untouched horizon, I see
Watching the sky mesh in shades and hues
As I lay down to rest awaiting a day anew.

-Fatima

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Betwixt


Dark night with cool air
And there she lies with void bare..

Lonely and muddled as midnight moon
She shies away in the starry gloom..

What is it that numbs the pain
She searches the antidote now blase.. 

Spring summer autumn and snow
She welcomes them all, all the same..

Longing hoping for moments unknown 
She wishes for warmth in the passing rains..


-Fatima

Sunday, December 14, 2014

A Winter Embrace

Prelude to This

She sat on the old wooden stool, her back in a rigid posture with her fingers nimbly playing a melody on the pianoforte. It was Schubert, one of her favourites. She had always loved the rough silky texture of the black and white keys, that when felt by her delicate fingers gave birth to a world of its own.

Her fingers came to a halt as she let out a tired sigh, the piece had ended. He was too mesmerized to even applaud. It was then when she curtsied to him, that he broke out of his trance and clapped. Realizing it was nearing sundown and that they were the only ones in the small chapel, he interrupted the quiet.  

“I fear the weather has taken a turn for the ghastly. Would you like a ride home mademoiselle?” he spoke in a very aristocratic manner.

“Ah! Just the offer I was waiting for my kind sir,” she replied in earnest taking his proffered arm.
Not able to hold it any longer, she let out a giggle at their playful disposition and he joined her. Finally letting themselves out in hopes of searching some abode, safe and sound.

--*--

The weather was exceptionally colder than the last time they had met; this time they were trapped in a small inn due to the sudden snowstorm that had invaded the city. Thankful to have found this inn at some walking distance from the chapel. The wood burning in the fireplace cast a glowing amber about the room, warming it. They sat huddled together on the hard wood polished floor nestling a cup of hot chocolate to warm their insides. They were covered from head to toe, but the shivering was yet to recede as they were wet from the rains earlier and the fresh falling snow.

“I feel like trash. I thought I had one good thing in my life, so that I could start over. I didn’t know that sole being could mess me up more than anything I predicted. Each day I come across things that were mere lies. It’s sickening to know, so bad that unlike last time when I thought I was guilty I now realize I've just been a, prey.” Ayah mumbled eyeing the fireplace.

Yasin let out a frigid breath before taking a sip from his cup. He was startled by the new revelations from Ayah, when she gave him a call a month ago. Patience and time were the only keys to heal her all over again, he realized.

“You just don’t understand how to react. And it’s absolutely understandable that you’re hurting.  Your life in real was never screwed, you gave him the power to rumple it. I daresay it was messed up and confusing but never really screwed.” He responded.

“The more you care the more you suffer. Nada zilch there is nothing that gives people the right to play with someone’s feelings and heart or as a matter of fact taking for granted. I’m sorry for all the troubles I've always caused you, even when you were nursing your own broken heart you were constantly there for me. However, would I repay your kindness?” she cried in earnest.

“Is it something we shouldn’t do then? Care?” replied Yasin, in a tone of surprise and emotion, “Do not embarrass me, for rather I am glad to have been there for you, as you have been for me,” he added after a short pause.

Ayah, still being a bit distracted forged on, “I don’t know, it’s an abstract thing. Care is more important than love. You always love people who you care for but the other way round is not always true. Love can be abusive and obsessive, care cannot.” She paused letting go of the anxiety that gripped her, and forced herself to speak; “I’ve realized not to store my happiness nor sadness in people. They leave us when someone new comes along. And maybe even we leave some. It’s a fast forward world Yasin, you can’t find people waiting for you.” 

The conversation had like always reached a point of vulnerability. There was too much said, felt and left unsaid too.

“It taught me to have faith,” said he, “don’t be too sentimental nor wear your heart on your sleeve. People find it easier to exploit you then. But then again don’t become a cold stoic person, who I was on the verge of becoming. Had it not been your frank temperament and playful optimistic outlook, I would have been lost.” 

Ayah colored at that and let out a laugh as she replied, “Ah! Yes, you’ve seen me at my best and my worst too. I should not have brushed off your affections all those years ago, would have saved me the heartache.”

“I was certainly wary and devoid of wisdom. I am sure if I was more open and persistent, things would have been different. And we would have never had the misfortune to cross people who left us scarred. Then again, in retrospection I believe it was for the best. The past teaches us awfully lot, doesn’t it?” he asked in an expecting manner.

“It does, it surely does,” replied she.

Uncovering his hands from the woolen mittens and doing the same with hers, he swiftly stood up proffering his hand to her, “May I have the honor to secure the next dance? I believe it’s a waltz,” Yasin asked her politely with mischief filled eyes.

It was indeed the music for waltz that could be heard playing down in the inn ballroom. A blush rose on her cheeks as she daintily placed her hands in his, “It will be my pleasure Sir,” replied she with elation as he led her to the makeshift dance floor.

She could not help smiling at his ease with her, their delightful companionship and most of all his invaluable support and guidance in her time of need. Time passed tardily as snow covered the whole town white, welcoming bliss in the peak of winter.


-Fatima