Charcoal Lips

Jaun Elia's Bitch

[charcoallip]

Dear God,

I know I'm supposed to talk to you while I am in sujood, my head to the ground. Facing Mecca.

But you're All Knowing, so you certainly must know of the hooks on my back, wedged deep in my flesh.

Hooks that tie me to this bed of mine. Render me immobile. Unable to get up.

So here I am instead, posting this on Tumblr. Foolishly hoping that you'd read this here instead.

Help me please.

[charcoallip]

The child finally dies.

I will kill him someday—the boy who smiles too much, who trusts carelessly, who believes in things like justice and fairness. He’ll beg me not to, but I’ll know it’s the only way. He is soft, and softness is a liability.

His innocence will bleed out first, drop by drop. Promises will be broken. Laughter will turn into jeers. For every betrayal, every rejection, I will carve another piece out of him. He will try to hold on, but the flood will come, and it will drown him.

He’ll look to the people who should love him most—his family—but their eyes will pierce him with expectations he can’t meet. Their silences will be deafening, their stares heavier than mountains. I once tried to mold him into the son they wanted, but the weight almost broken him. I’ll watch his shoulders slump, his hope dim, and I’ll know his time is running out.

His confusion will twist inside him, a knot too tangled to unravel. He will search for answers about himself, about his desires, and find only shame. He’ll try to become someone he isn’t, hoping the world will accept him, but the whispers of “not enough” will follow him everywhere.

The insecurities will be the final blow. They’ll creep in like shadows, echoing every insult, every dismissal. He’ll start seeing his reflection through the eyes of everyone who ever doubted him, and he’ll flinch at what he sees.

One day, I’ll stand over him and finish what the world started. I’ll tell him it’s better this way, that he doesn’t belong here anymore. He’ll cry, reaching for me, but I’ll let him go. His wide eyes will close, his soft hands will fall still, and the silence will finally come.

For the first time, I’ll feel weightless, free of his laughter, his fears, and the crushing weight of their stares. But in the quiet, a question will haunt me: how much of him do I kill before I eventually kill myself.

[charcoallip]

Phir koi aaya dil-e -zaar? Nahi, koi nahi.

"The quantum theory of observation and the double slit experiment in quantum physics refers to the idea that the mere act of observing a quantum system can significantly alter its state "

I learned about this in college and at that time I only saw it as a concept that I had to wrap my head around to get through the semester.

That is, until this morning , whilst I was randomly sipping on a bland cup of mediocre coffee in my bare bones house, I realised....

That no one has seen me or touched me in the year 2025.

I have only existed as the person the world knew of for maybe a few minutes at the most. And this was mostly during fleeting interactions I've had with the food delivery guy, my maid and the random neighbour who keeps on asking for my phone charger.

Why won't she just buy a new one for herself?

And since I haven't been "observed" this long, I've started to believe that maybe I don't exist unless someone calls and I respond in return.

It has anyway become a onerous task to hold on to this persona I've built when simply no one is watching.

My stupid self has taken an entire decade to understand the double slit experiment.

That too, only through a series of bad decisions.

I wonder how deep this goes though.

Is my smile only real because my mother cherished it?

Would my bruises hurt only because my father inflicted them?

Did I exist , only because someone decided to love me?

And since they don't anymore, do I even retain this body of mine?

Anyway, I'm going to tell my neighbour that my charger has stopped working and she should get her own.

[charcoallip]

Sigh.

So i just found out that apparently a lemon isn't naturally occurring, and is a hybrid by cross breeding a bitter orange and a citron.

Which means Life never gave us lemons.

We invented them all by ourselves

[charcoallip]

And on a random Wednesday in the middle of June all your childhood trauma will come back to you.

And you who struggle to remember even your birthday, will suddenly remember that one Wednesday evening in the middle of July 15 years ago, how someone held your arm so tightly that their nails bit into your skin and you weren't even allowed to cry.

You'll suddenly picture how that one neighbour lured you with candy and then proceed to put it on his crotch for you to grab. You'll realise how that very arm has had phantom pain all your life and you never really understood why. Until now.

You'll realise that you never really knew either of your grandfathers and how matriarchy and patriarchy both eventually implied that the women of the house be exploited. Which is why whenever you ran to your mother for a warm embrace all you felt was a wet nightgown and a weary body.

You'll remember your father loved you the best he could, that is until his rage overtook him and his belt would find your tender skin extremely appealing.

All this childhood trauma shall stare in your face as you bawl your eyes out hoping that crying would make it go away and it does.

Although only until another random Wednesday in the middle of June next year.

- Shreeman Natwarlal

[charcoallip]

There are universes written about unrequited love, loss of life, broken dreams and even withered sunflowers.

But hardly anything is ever said about collateral damage.

When you love someone so much they eventually begin to heal.

From injuries both hidden and otherwise.

And how intensely do they heal, leaning on you while you stand as still as humanely possible for them.

Unwithered unaffected you stand, sun , snow and unrelenting rain.

There is sweat and blood pooling at your feet and there are some roaches too

But why would you be bothered? Someone's finally leaning on you.

You give your chest for a pillow, your arm for support while your legs be their blanket.

Bit by bit you give up everything and why wouldn't you?

At the end of their metamorphosis, you are in awe of their wings and how tall they've become. They take to the air, their flight oversizes the universe's own grandeur.

You can't believe your eyes, overtaken by joy you fail to realise your feet don't work and you can't walk, let alone fly.

And before you reach out to them in hopes they'd take them with you they're already shooting stars.

Blinded by their trail, you desperately flail your arms in hopes of grabbing something.

But all you catch is dust.

- shreeman natwarlal

[charcoallip]

The world is full of men silently dreaming about ending their lives.

Almost all of them wake up and then move the world.

Building rockets, running governments , providing for families, creating art.

Almost as if everything is fine inside their heads.

[charcoallip]

I think it's in the nature of all things beautiful,

To wither wilt and die.

[charcoallip]

My biggest regret you ask?

Holding every hand that came to me, their fingers intertwined with mine, hoping their fingers will stab me through flesh and bone and finally touch my soul

Drawing a million of their eyes on every parchment , paper, leaf that fell to me. Hoping every other pair would see me.

Kissing too many cold lips, with my hands on their hips, hoping they'd burn me like the sun.

What's your biggest regret?

[charcoallip]

Red Hue

It terrified me , to be seen.

So I picked up the broken pieces of my bathroom mirror and stuck it to my skin.

And everyone saw me for who they are.

Their red hued reflection.

[charcoallip]

aaj us ne has ke yuuñ pūchhā mizāj

umr bhar ke ranj-o-ġham yaad aa gae

- ehsan danish

[charcoallip]

What do you do with all this grief?

That jolts you from sleep at 3 am like a bedbug infested mattress. At this time, you cannot swallow what you feel neither can you spit it out and it's there, like a lump of coal in your dry parched throat.

So you do what you know best. You weep , and ohh how you weep. Like a cloudburst in Amazon, intense and unforgiving. The tears take away whatever sight is left in those sleep deprived eyes of yours, in total disregard.

You and the universe go through the same grief in this night. The grief of never being heard. The grief of being all encompassing yet alone. Like right now, there are probably a billion suns violently dying and exploding in some quiet cold corner of the universe and right now your heart is pounding with the same intensity as you lay in a quiet cold corner of your room. Yet not a single soul has the faintest idea of it.

A billion suns dying and a soul weeping to death must certainly be a loud phenomenon but you're mistaken.

And you're also mistaken to feel close to the universe because of this shared tragedy

Because you've been wronged and you cannot shake this feeling of helplessness seeing that in the grand scheme of this lawless universe, their betrayal is nothing but insignificant.

Even though to you, what they did meant that you'd have to sear your chest so that it becomes tender and pull your heart out. Then with your heart in your hands you'd have to squeeze it, massage it, till it start beating again.

But even if it does beat, what do you do with a grief stricken heart?

- Shreeman Natwarlal

[charcoallip]

Sochun to saari ummr mohabbat me kat gai

Dekhun to ek shaqs bhi mera nahi hua

- Jaun Elia

[nemralam]

عشق میں عین ممکن ہے سب کچھ

یہ بھی ممکن ہے کہ مُجھے تیری تمنا نہ رہے

In the realm of love, all things are wonderfully conceivable,

It's also possible that I no longer yearn for you.

[charcoallip]

And we say the same thing about haunted palaces and his poems of Palestine

Someone must've died here

Someone must've died here.

[charcoallip]

Scent

11 days ago, I stopped seeking from you what I needed the most, because sitting on that hotel bed and opening that book of yours while you were in the bath tub I realized that you don't have it in you to give me what I need.

And so much time had passed by since last December when you left me in what used to be our home that I have grown so tired, so now, I neither have the energy nor the will to explain it to you even one more time of what I yearned from you.

I do not hate you and I still wish all my luck on you, but my weary heart wants to protect itself and allow me some much needed days of consistent sanity.

So I've made peace with not seeking from you what I wished the most when I opened that book of yours and found someone else's scent.

I realized that moment was the beginning of the downfall of our love which was once my strongest attribute.

You've shown me that falling out of love is as natural as falling in it

[charcoallip]

Raigaani

Me kamre me pichle ikattees dino se

Faqat is haqeekat ka nuksaan gin ne ke koshish me uljha hua hu

Ki tu Jaa chuki hai

Tujhe raigaani ka ratti barabar andaaza nahi hai

Tujhe yaad hai wo zamana

Jo campus ki pagdandiyo pe tahelte hue kat gaya tha

Tujhe yaad hai ki jab kadam chal rahe the

Ki ek pair tera tha aur ek mera

Kadam wo jo dharti pe awaaz dete

Ki jaise ho raaga koi mutreebo ka

Kadam jaise ke sa pa ga ma pa ga sa re

Wo table ki tirkhat pe

Tak dhinak dhin kadam chal rahe the

Kadam jo musalsal agar chal rahe the

To kitne gavaiyon ke ghar chal rahe ghe

Magar jis ghadi

Tune us raah ko mere tanha kadam ke hawale kiya

Un suron ki kahani wahi ruk gayi

Kitni fankariyaan , kitni baareekiyaan,

Kitni kaliyaan, bilaawal,

Gavaiyon ke hoton pe aane se pehle fanah ho gaye

Kitne Nusrat Fateh Ali, kitne Mehdi Hasan muntazir reh gaye

Ki hamare kadam sath phir se uthne lage

Tujhe maloom hai

Jis ghadi meri awaaz sun ke

Tu ek zaviye pe palat ke mudi thi, wahaan se

Relativity ka janaza utha tha

Ki us zaviye ki koshish me hi unaan ke falsafii

Sab zamano ki tartiib barbaad kr ke tujhe dekhne aa gaye the

Ki tere jhukaav ki tamsiil pe

Apni seedhi lakeero ko kham de sake

Apni akdi hui gardano ko liye apne waqton me laut sake

Geometry ko janm de sake

Aaj bhi kuch falsafii

Apne pheeke zamano se bhaage hue hai

Mere raaston pe aankh bichaye hue

Apni danist me yun khade hai ki jaise

Wo danish ka source yahi pe kahi hai

Magar mudd ke takne ko tu hi nahi hai

To kaise Florence ke tang galiyon me koi da Vinci uthe?

Kaise Spain me Picasso bane?

Unki aankho ko tu mayassar jo nahi hai

Ye sab ,

Tere mere ikhatte na hone ki keemat adaa kar rahe hai

Ki tere naa hone se har ek zama me

Har ek fann me, har ek daastaan me,

Koi ek chehra bhi taaza nahi hai

Tujhe raaigaani ka ratti barabar andaaza nahi hai

- Shoyeb Mugiraa