under the yasmin tree

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." – Maya Angelou. Writer on quarantine in Bombay. Poems, prose, thoughts on writing, frequent hat tips to first love Urdu, and a generous sprinkling of memes.

[dankmemeuniversity]

[undertheyasmintree]

I have grown tired of the melancholy of the nights, fearful of them. I crave the frenzy of the mornings, the arguments among the women in the neighbouring houses, the clanking of pots and pans and the strong whiff of lunch meals being prepared, the singsong calls of the vegetable sellers, scrapmen, the swish-swash of floors being cleaned, and the honking and tring-tringing of vehicles. I rely on the dense sunrays streaming toward my desk to blind me from my thoughts and worries. I am not alone. I am not alone for another few hours.  

[undertheyasmintree]

I open my eyes and anxieties seize the day at the first moment of consciousness.

[undertheyasmintree]

I’ve felt every single night

that you haven’t been here with me

[undertheyasmintree]

You are a strong woman, he said

After breaking my heart into a million pieces

You will find a way out of this, he said

After leaving me astray

Don’t be harsh on yourself, he said

After crushing my hopes

We are often so cruel to ourselves, he said

After trampling all over my desires

[undertheyasmintree]

The Paradox, by Sarah Kay

[undertheyasmintree]

The apple smoothie turned out as expected. Smooth and creamy on the outside but bitter as heck inside. That’ll teach them. She forced an evil laugh, then licked the finger she had dipped into the blender to taste it and poured equal amounts of it into three glasses, placing them on a wooden tray. She adjusted her maroon scarf with one hand while balancing the tray in the other and then took careful steps toward the living room. Just behind the curtains at the door, she halted, sighing and rolling her eyes upon hearing the cackling laughter of her parents.

“Our Fatima has always loved to cook,” she heard her father say in his most honeyed, eager-to-please voice ever. He-he-he-he-he. She could see only the back of his white prayer cap from between the folds of the curtain, but she imagined the sharp, pointy ends of his moustache bouncing up and down like they always did when he laughed. They also caused a bristling itch on her nose and made her sneeze each time he planted a kiss on her cheeks as a child, she suddenly remembered. That made his laughter sound more annoying now.

“Oh, here she is! Come on in, dear, don’t be shy,” her father turned around and gestured for her to sit, vigorously patting the empty seat next to his. He-he-he-he-he. “She is very shy, this one” he said, pressing on the word “very” like her mother pressed garlic and cloves under a pestle to make chutneys. “She never does anything without our permission.” Really, Dad? I thought lying was a sin. You know what, forget it. I’ll let the smoothie speak for itself.

Deep breaths, Fatty. She took a full look at the row of them. For a brief few seconds Fatima imagined slamming the tray into the guests’ faces, roaring with laughter at the sight of their shocked expressions and the smoothie dripping down their decked-up clothes, then walking away with the flourish of Ariana Grande at the end of Dangerous.

You couldn’t blame her. She was 19. What is a 19-year-old meme-maker supposed to do when asked to “behave like a dutiful prospective wife?” Make memes. And so she did. Her page ‘Fatty’s Daily Meme Juice – That sweet taste when you create a good meme’ had over 5000 followers on Tumblr. And she didn’t even follow most of them back.  

"Say Salam to them Fatima!” her mother’s high pitched but restrained voice broke her reverie. She sat down gracefully, legs together, scarf covering the chest, looking up just briefly to smile coyly at the Prospective Mother in Law. I’m so good at this, LOL.

[i-wrotethisforme]

You know it’s really fucking sad when people leave your life. That’s it, regardless of the situation, even if you come out a better person for it, it’s just really fucking sad. People who you had memories with, people who know things about you and taught you things, people who you at one point looked at like they were your whole world. No matter who’s choice it was to leave, it sucks. It’s hard and it sucks, and there’s no way around that. And it happens to all of us and we’re going to keep meeting people who might also one day leave us, but that’s life and we have no say in the matter so sometimes it’s okay to just think something sucks and hope it doesn’t completely destroy you.

[pakistaniheaux]

heart: randomly starts beating faster me: what is it what do you see

[undertheyasmintree]

From Karachi to Gwadar, I set out to witness Pakistan's magical coastline

With pristine waters and beaches, golden dunes and wildlife, the country's south is uniquely blessed.

Ufffff

[middleeasternpoetry]

“I love autumn” she told me. And since that day, I’ve been falling. 

[cheruib]

[quotemadness]

Had I told the sea what I felt for you, it would have left its shores, its shells, its fish, and followed me.

Nizar Qabbani (via quotemadness)

[undertheyasmintree]

The Puppetry of Quotation Approval

When quotations can be unilaterally taken back, the political Kabuki is all but complete.

“The first draft of history should not be rewritten by the people who make it.”

[undertheyasmintree]

“Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be curious. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at.”

- Stephen Hawking

[undertheyasmintree]

“Journalism is education for me. Writing is payment for the chance to look and learn.”

- Martha Gellhorn

[undertheyasmintree]

My favourite kind of happiness is which comes from serendipitoously finding a quote or passage in a book that answers questions that have been swirling in your mind for long.