I HAVE MIGRATED.

HERE'S WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME...

The New Hibssterr Blog ♥


Thanks, to all silent readers as well...

A True Mask (2/2)

I've been trying everything I can to grow. Somehow, nothing seems to be working out.
Except me, though. I work out. A few things on my bucket list are learning to cook, getting good grades and mastering the art of Henna. No, I am not just going downhill when it comes to my grades, but I am beyond burying myself. I tried the kitchen yesterday, all I did was waste a few eggs and regret trying my luck at all. About the Henna bit, well, not Instagram worthy yet.
I decided to talk to a stranger one more (perhaps last) time and got connected to an Indian M who was all about parties, and just "chillin' wid frndz"  you know? Sarosh. He said he was glad to have talked to me and that I was "different". I don't know why, but that hurt. I find it so difficult to accept that some one could genuinely think I was unique, and almost went "Hey wait let me explain! I'm just ordinary and you don't need to compliment me to get to my Skype!" But that's just not it. I always wonder why I do things like block 300+ followers off my Instagram and why having an audience of 1K gets me paranoid! Yet I look at other teenagers and wonder how they have all these subscribers on YouTube and why I can't offer content as good as theirs.
Different, aren't we all?
Doesn't that essentially make us the same?

"I'm normal"

"Give a man a mask, and he will show you his true face."
Since I've been finding it difficult to feel homely with anyone lately, I was surprised at the number of people on Omegle who feel the same. I wonder if I ever chatted with someone I know and shared more with them anonymously than I would in real life...

Transience (1/2)

I am an extremely lazy texter, and rarely find anyone of my interest to commit to. And whaddaya know! Omegle to the rescue! I think that what makes a person who they are, and who others are not, are the places they've been to, people they've interacted with, and moments they endured which they could only accept and embrace in silence. I've connected to the least likely domains, one even being a morgue technician. (Uh, our mutual filter "Science" did the honors.) I am not one to pounce onto a/s/l, but he did end the life-altering conversation by telling me that I could remember him as Valo. Most certainly that was not the most memorable segment of the conversation. He shared photographs of a case a 16 year-old boy that touched him deeply, and asked me to guess the cause of his untimely decease. With all the fatal adventures my best friend Kevin and his younger brother shared together in mind, it was only likely that the boy was accidentally deprived of breath while playing with his younger brother. And it was. The two were beyond amused by a video of teenagers blood-choking each other and wanted to try it out themselves. The older brother, lost a life. The younger, an older brother. I saved our chat log for a time when I am less humble and forget about how short life is.

I actually started writing this as a tribute to another chat I had last night, but oh well, look where this headed... To be continued!

2 Cool 4 School

Almost fourteeen years later, today, we wore a new uniform at school. Yay!? It was ridiculous at first sight and the more I looked at everyone around me, the lesser I wanted to be seen in an attire like that! It was far from stylish, not even something you would keep to convert into pyjama wear, but I do enjoy that the back of our jacket reads "CSK". I've always seen proud Oxford graduates flaunt their hoodies that speak so loudly about where they're from. Putting aside all the pressure and emotional trauma we are facing in our final year, this school has given me the most beautiful childhood I could ever ask for. I haven't simply made best friends, but also the worst of enemies in disguise of them, through which I have learnt how easy it is to love others just simply by being oblivious to their flaws... I wish I could slow down time for a while, rewind a little and live some moments again like I never did before. Guess you only realize the value of something once its gone...

Just Another Day

Sure my life looks perfect, on Instagram... but every time I think of all the people who have come and gone and lived and loved and spent all their lives alone in a castle and think to myself, really, what am I doing with my life?
Some times I drown in so much anxiety, I just want to change my name, move to another planet and sleep on marshmallows for a living. It almost feels like nature is set by default to go against me.

                                       

I have so many friends, yet I am used to feeling lonely. And so yesterday I decided to walk to the beach by myself. I have traveled that road countless times and the distance has never felt so endless like it did without them. I could hear all our echoing laughter while crossing the busy road together and the honking cars that sped by and all of us hushing each other down while receiving raised eyebrows and I wonder, if they ever miss me like I miss them. I stamped over a cigarette and craved to know how the taste of ash could relieve anyone's worries... I thought, if anything, it could be that the bitterness that lingered inside their mouth convinced them of how their lives could've felt smokier...

I took my shoes off and walked toward the sea, soaking my feet in the sand...

...but what surprised me is the waves looked even more eager to come towards me!

 (Sorry, I don't know to rotate a video! and about the mic quality... there's a reason no one calls me! :D)

Note to self:
I don't know where you're headed or who you'll walk that path with but I do know for sure, the only way to make it there is to be friends with yourself first.

The Bigger Canvas

Its that time of the year again, almost every Indian house quaking with a magnitude of their child's board exam result. The first post on my Facebook feed was certainly one to envy, so I kept scrolling down until my head began to spin. The palette of possible percentages reminded me of my limited hours, until I too will sit behind a screen, constantly refreshing the page in all anxiousness, finally making amends with God. I've always been traumatized by the supreme power numbers have over our lives; age, weight, marks, likes and counting...

Drawn by Sarina Abdulla

The only thing worse than knowing that I am this close to bidding school life Adieu, is greeting a much more cruel world Bonjour. The last few weeks were a splash of all the most vibrant emotions. Some days I am already nostalgic as I fast forward into the future, while on others I lay myself back rewinding to a more carefree past. I push my friends as far away in fear of getting attached, and pull them back even closer knowing it will never be the same again. With pleasure I may have repeated the same mistakes time and over again, but for now all I can say is... Come what may, Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem, Carpe Vitam...

Drawn by Jilsha Feraz

If That Means Crawling, Crawl

Although we all claim its what life is supposed to be like, traveling has to be my #1 favorite escape from reality. I remember hopping onto a jeep that drove us to a rather under-explored part of the bedazzling Sultanate of Oman, where we accelerated along a steep mountain-slope under a sky dressed in the darkest shade of violet. I call it a rare occasion that I wouldn't rather pull out my smartphone and browse through every one else's enviable Snapchat story. The gleam across the heaven I sat under looked like Jam spread over bread, only the happiness times infinity. I recall that night to the most deafening noise one could hear; silence. Just like what you hear on a day spent beside some one you can go on talking to, without saying a word. I popped my head out the window and let the winds undo my headscarf, taking in as much of the landscape as I could to engrave that picturesque memory for a lifetime. I have a lot of fears, fears of losing good friends, earned followers, and maybe even the last cookie in the jar. But in that moment all I was afraid of losing, was that moment. It taught me to keep going, even if that meant baby steps or even staying still, only to shine. I was drenched in the holy sight of so many, alike and distant but even yet unique stars. I wondered if any of them felt less special because of how much brighter some shun over the others... little do they know, without the dim, there wouldn't be any bright. A realization then struck me... as beings, we are incomparable! Because even if we can 'see' it, our shine can only be 'felt' by those around us. And so, we rode on into the darkness until an invisible cloak hid the precious stones of the sky only to spare their lustre for another time, giving daylight its awaited turn to catwalk...

Photograph by Hiba Aydeed

I Am Not Special

I,

I wake up at 6:35 a.m. turn around, check if my phone buzzed while I was being chased by the paparazzi in a different dimension. A yellow blinking light I see, my sloppy fingers unlock the screen only to see an SMS I received. "Hurrah! You're the chosen one! Recharge with 500 fils to claim your seventy unicorn-colored trips to Hawaii!" Pffft. "Chosen one," I think to myself and tug my duvet right back on. Minutes later I hear my name being chanted until mama's water spray breaks my fantasy. Oh, I'm late for the bus. Again. I drag myself outta bed blind way-finding to brush my teeth. Next thing you know, I've fallen face down on the washing machine. Bruised on my eye and half starved I run across the street and -sorry Uncle, I'll wake up earlier.- I drape my hijab over my face of shame and drool in exhaustion for the next forty minutes. The hazy corridors I walk past filled with small, fat, skinny, tall people one better than the other at uff, don't push, man, one better than the other at singing, dancing, studying. Hung across the lobby I stare at the honour-roll board, a lot of familiar names none of which are mine. I still make it to class feed on the energy only to survive yet another day of every one's special but I,

I'm not.

That's why I am.

Photograph by Hiba Aydeed

The Perpendicular Truth*

Photograph by Hiba Aydeed

She twists and twirls
Along her orbit in a haze,
Vis-à-vis the blinding Sun
Erasing her ability to gaze.
Making way for our survival,
Oblivious to our greed
T'is humanity's mother,
Hovering mid-air for our need.
Even as we dye her hair, chop her
Roots, and trash her seas
Every dawn, dusk and midnight
All day she begs on her knees
Reminding us of a world yet to sprout.
T'is humanity's only mother,
Hear her out.

*hinting at where to look for a hidden message

Boomerang!

Rushing my way into Bombay Bazaar, I searched for the renowned gown shop I totally forgot the name of. There were two more days for my sister’s son’s wedding, and I still hadn’t purchased my attire.

“I’m an awful aunt, I’m an awful aunt, I’m awful aunt” I told myself repeatedly. I stopped hunting and caught an auto rickshaw that drove me to the nearest bridal wear showroom. Standing right behind the glass, I saw a mannequin wearing the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It was a turquoise lehanga that featured a hot pink hemline embellished with golden embroidery. “That is so mine!” I gushed. Without any second thought, I ran into the shop and asked the sales lady where the dress was kept. She looked around and fearfully said, “I’m sorry ma’am, but someone just took the last piece into the dressing room.” My heart sank. I ran toward the dressing room and saw the young girl who wore that dress walk out one of the stalls. She looked down and walked towards her mother who was jumping for joy. “Oh you look so beautiful!” her mother hugged her and said. “I can’t believe you’re getting married already…” Her daughter smiled slightly. I walked into the last stall, locked myself in and sat on the little chair. To be honest, that dress looked even more beautiful on her and it made me want to cry. The girl started to sound reluctant by the way she spoke. “Maa… why do we have to do this? It’s not li-” the girl’s mother cut her off, “oh don’t you worry, my munchkin. Papa and I are even happier to see you get married!” I took careful heed of their conversation. “But maa… it’s just that I’m… I’m not ready for this...” The mother didn’t respond. “…please try to understand,” the daughter continued. “But why, beta, what is the matter? Is it something he said?” the mother started to worry. “It’s not his fault, maa! It’s not anybody’s fault! It’s just that… you got didi married when she too was eighteen and… you know what happened! I’m sorry but I’m just not ready for this.”

Photograph by Mafaz Rouf

I heard sounds of the daughter stomping her feet up to the stall next to mine. She locked herself in, changed her clothes and walked out the dressing room. I unlocked my stall door and came out feeling sorrowful for the poor mother. As I walked out, I saw the lehanga thrown on the floor. I immediately grabbed it and hugged it and jumped in excitement! I ran to the cashier, purchased the dress, and rushed back home. With all the due respect and sympathy I had for the mother and daughter, I was equally overexcited about my new dress. I wore it and it fit me perfectly! As I admired each and every angle of it in the mirror, I got a phone call from my sister. I wondered why she would call so late. “Hello?” I asked. “What is the matter?” to which she responded, “Umm… I have some depressing news. The wedding has been called off. The girl isn’t ready to get married.”