HumaZ Life Path Class Library

Full of contradictions, Fighting to unravel the Mysteries & discover my True calling and make others discover theirs through Thought-Provoking Life Path posts.Come join me in the quest for peace, discovery and knowledge. Share & View your reflections in the journey with my Words , Meet Me & Meet yourself on this pebbly road, deep trench and steep slope called – The Life Path….

An unacceptable Realization May 22, 2009

Bookmark: Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to FurlAdd to Newsvine

As I stepped out of the car, the beautiful July afternoon woven with threads of golden sunshine passed through me. The dazzling, sunny day was about to come to an end. Another leaf was about to be turned in my tree of life. And history was to be written once again.

I looked up and noticed the half moon boldly standing out opposite the orange globe like sun, not intimidated by its dominant demeanor anymore. Flock of birds dashed across the ever enchanting multihued sky; their black color contrasting well with the orange ball. My eyes scanned to search any flaw in this nature’s painting, even of a tiny sort but found none. Right then the cool breeze gently kissed my cheeks to just add that last touch of perfection to it.

To match this electric ambience was the semi circle around my heart shaped lips formed by the mirthful smile on my face. The idea of visiting my friends in London was appealing enough and quite evidently my eyes shone with its brilliance.

Grandpa had come to see me off at the airport. Surprising enough was the fact that he never came to drop anyone before but he insisted that he will come along this time. He would be long gone before my return and this was the last chance of seeing him. Little did I know that it would turn out to be so.

As I unloaded the car and neatly arranged the luggage on the passenger quick drop-off area, I bid farewell to all. There was much traffic around. I could see a traffic police officer couple of yards away from where I stood, eager to write tickets for the vacant cars that occupied the no parking area. People getting off the vehicles, luggage getting stacked up at the pavement, passengers rushing into the departure lounge – their eyes confused and searching for signs and directions, greetings getting exchanged, a tear in an eye or two, many overwhelming scenes occupying the environs. Flood of emotions surrounded me, piling up inside me. Such great was the speed with which they hit me, that I found a snag in coping up with them at one stage.

I forcefully pulled myself back from sinking in this poignant whirlpool and turned my attention to the figure standing before me. There was a detectable glow that encompassed him. The surroundings echoed with this unmatchable radiance and the whole spectacle enthralled me, generating a great sense of peace inside me.

The commotional waves in the sea of emotion that bordered me died instantly. The pure white of his dress made him look even holier blending well with his persona. I looked at him and smiled, letting some of the holy vibrations, get absorbed. His aura transcended mine transecting at some point to unify. It felt sensational! Emotionally over charged, I clutched him putting my arms around and hugged him good bye.

In that very nano second, something hit me hard like a blazing fire. A voice deep down inside me said: What if this is actually the last time you will see him? Astonished and moved by this strange foreign occupancy, I tried hard to fight back leaving no room for it to settle down. “This is non-sense”, I made it clear to myself. But somehow I couldn’t shove off the eerie feeling that lingered with this eccentric voice. Somehow I knew this wasn’t deliberate.

Deeply troubled by this foreign invasion, I still wasn’t ready to throw myself at the mercy of this intruder. “It is just my imagination running wild”, I assured myself. I wasn’t going to let it get the better of me at least in this instance.

Still struggling to combat these thoughts, I gazed up to realize the inconspicuousness of the white clouds occupying the vast expanse of the lucid, slatey sky. A surreal quietness surpassed them creating a lingering affect on the observer. I moved my eyes around not knowing what I was searching for and came back to the origin.

Standing face to face with the pinkish, orange ball blocked by grandpa’s tall and slender body, it seemed as if the source of light lied within him, the glow of it dispersing around his white attire. Illuminating the entire vicinity, these colorful rays felt as if they have been carrying information from some distant future and finally as they passed into my eyes and died inside, they etched their meanings inside me. I couldn’t come to terms with this piece of information that got registered inside me. My feet felt firmly fixed to the ground as if refusing to move. I wanted to stand there and keep talking to him and not just say Good bye and leave.

Something felt shattering inside me and I wanted to scream to vent the pain out. My heart was about to burst with the unhandled stream of over dosed sentiments yet I stood there motionless, feeling as if something had been dug deep into my heart tearing it apart. Pain shot through my body like a current. Unable to bear this torment, I wanted to cry out of unbearable hurt. What I did though was completely different. I smiled at him and grabbed on to my bag’s handle and walked hurriedly towards the departure area, not turning around. I felt his eyes following me but didn’t look back, scared to let the moments turn into future.

As I passed the security check, I forgot all about the small episode inside me concentrating on the task at hand. The world moved once again at an enormous pace. I looked at the clock in the hall opposite to me and realized how terribly late I was and rushed towards the gate, gasping for air, not stopping until I reached it. As I settled in my seat comfortably, I felt relieved.

Within few minutes of taking off, the plane soared high into the skies. I looked down, overtaken by the serene thought of how the heavens look down at us awaiting our arrival with both hands. The tiny thought was vast enough to last for the short journey.

Next year another person’s transition was over to finally return home. Left behind were the sweet memories of the person that was very much dear to me.

by Zuellah Huma Ahmed

Add to: Facebook | Digg | | Stumbleupon | Reddit | Blinklist | Twitter | Technorati | Furl | Newsvine


Sublime Call May 17, 2009

Filed under: Creative Writing - Poetry — zhahmed @ 8:03 PM
Tags: , , ,

There is but a cry

In my heart, that passes by

A soul it has its own

A moment quite unshown

A flight with wings spread fast

A rich magic over cast

It is a cry unknown

For it is but quite unshown

An assemble it sure has

A facade it does take

Of souls departing by

The form it forms to be

Is not uncommon these days

I wonder what it will be

With shape of its own

When no form has been shown

When it is not over blown

For it gets so much molded

By gestures flashing by

By the over whelming encounters

By those rising in the sky

I wonder what it will be

If it has a shape of its own

When sound emanating from it

Came from the source with in

Might it get heard?

Not over-toned or made up

Shapeless to your eyes

With definition of its own

When it is still untouched

When it is not but chaste

I m but, gravely appalled

If you seek refinement

For it is so naive

It might get into that confinement

I wish it lived its true form – benign

Only if my heart desired possession

The strength enough to suffice it

For a truce exists in its eyes

Submissive to designs of slyness


Through the Looking-Glass May 8, 2009

Bookmark: Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to FurlAdd to Newsvine

Walking in the local market on a cool, breezy Saturday morning was not an idea I had in mind for spending my weekend. Yet I pulled myself out of the covers with eyes half close remembering the long To Do list I had put up on the refrigerator last night. Sluggishly, I made myself completely awake by sipping at a hot cup of tea and a croissant. There was no sign of sun outside and the dark clouds incited me to get back under the covers once again. As the clock struck 9, I was caught up in an eerie feeling, half astonished and half depressed at the sudden passage of time. I quickly dressed up and grabbed the list from the refrigerator on my way out, almost about to forget it.

The roads were still wet from the early morning rain which might have poured when I was dreaming in bed. There were a few cars on the road that made me wonder how people were catching up on their sleep. If only I hadn’t had such a long list of chores, I would have done that myself. I drove to the nearby local market place and for once I was really pleased to find the parking. For this trivial task had not remained trivial anymore and in its own right deserved to be put up on a perfect To Do list these days.

I switched off the engine and grabbed my bag quickly, thinking I should not waste even a single second more. As soon as I started walking away from the car, I felt a drop slip past my cheek. I quickly buttoned my jacket and pulled over the hood. Cursing myself for not wearing a raincoat, I walked with hurried steps on the pavement, keeping myself as much as I could under the narrow shades that extended from the shops. It was drizzling!

Though the rain was like a blessing to enjoy in April around here, I didn’t want to get sick. Hearing a roaring thunder, I instantly looked up. The sky was a tinted grey with small patches of white here and there and the golden beams of the sun not missing a chance of filtering through almost any tiny passage they found in between. The whole display by nature was so wonderful and awe inspiring that I found myself magically cast. It was beauty at its peak which mesmerized me into forgetting the feelings I had few moments back. Infact they have been replaced by feelings of peace, bliss and contentment.

Realizing that I had stopped walking, I took fast paced steps and came across a couple of local artist shops and galleries. There were a few passer bys. Across the street, a beautifully painted colorful sign of an amateur art exhibit caught my attention. The door opened and a few people came out, chattering and laughing. Although they were quite audible but I couldn’t really make out their words.

Strangely enough, I was completely engrossed in my own thoughts of the other world beyond the glass. Finding myself suddenly so curious of what lied behind the big glass window, I crossed the street in a jay walking manner. As I drew closer to the entrance of the shop, I noticed the running water droplets that were washed on the glass by the slanting drizzle. Submitting to the gravitational pull, they skidded eagerly downwards, leaving behind trails for others to follow. Now standing infront of the glass, I peeped inside to see a wide range of colorful paintings hanging on the walls and on the wooden frames placed before of the walls.

With a thousand anticipations in mind, I tried to guess the title of the exhibit. Determined and excited, I scrutinized the entire work to find the theme behind it. Now then, what was I suppose to look for? Was it the use of the colors, the hues that were used predominantly, or the images themselves or the commonality of the impressions etched on the artist’s mind and reflected on the canvas. A feeling of ecstasy aroused for an instant; as I felt I was actually peeping into the artist’s mind. I thought what he might have felt while letting the colors run loose on the canvas; running the bristles over it many a times. Was it not just like the rain drops that had touched the glass so intensely, leaving behind the high impact strokes and then dying slowly where the rough cloth sucked them up? Was there life in those strokes? Was there life in those colors like the life that had very much been present in the rain drops when they struck, before they got succumbed to the earth’s gravitational pull?

A feeling of realization dawned upon me that very moment. Standing there, I felt the fixtures on the walls speaking to me. I could hear them loud and clear or was I just imagining it all. I wondered what I mixed in my tea this morning. Was it the sugar I accidentally stirred in the morning today, half drowsy and half dreaming, that kindled up these feelings for I don’t add sugar to tea normally. Or was I having some sort of hallucinations? A stranger I stood, looking at the strange world beyond the looking-glass. A world so different than mine, so distinct and clear, so bold and loud and so sharply in contrast to the one behind the glass where I stood that for a moment I had a feeling of guilt, having become a trespasser on it.

I quickly jerked the feeling, as it was the artist who had led me into his very own world through the work that covered the plain and colorless walls of the gallery. Having opened the doors to his realm, he had allowed me to accompany him. Every painting had a soul, trying to reach out to its audience; the artist’s soul, embedded in them with the feelings he had when he ran the brush over them from top to bottom, from side to side, from black to blue, from red to white.

The casual encounter with this world had turned into a mesmerizing acquaintance. I felt as if I had been standing there for eternity. Drenched in the distinctive feelings so not my own possessions, they still seemed so familiar. It was a paradox. Yet I felt ironical for one moment I was behind the glass and the other moment I passed right through it, looking at myself as an outsider. I felt as if I was the insider, as if it were my own world inside.

Still finding myself trapped between both these frames of reference simultaneously, I wanted to pull away and retreat my steps to my current destination but before I could do that something just caught my eye. The glimpse was enough to get me glued to the very place I had been standing for infinity. It was as if the life beyond the glass had come to a standstill and everything was moving so slow that I could hear my own heart beat; heartbeat that lasted for an eon and occupied a vast expanse of space. Yet however, the life on the other side, the side my world was at, time was moving at a pace so challenging that it was hard to keep track of it. I still fidgeted myself to consider one last spell to be cast upon me.

There stood a painting at the corner, all colorless and blurred. With hues of black and white mixed up, the distorted images were blanketed underneath. What I could make out was an image of a man and a woman, naked, standing face to face. Their bodies were not sharply defined and lingered into their own shadows. What such an ordinary display meant, I had no clue. But the fact that sharp contrast to all the vivid and colorful paintings, this indeed was another dimension – an entire dimension in itself.

Engrossed in my own thoughts, I stared at it long enough to feel my eyes piercing through the glass and through the very imagery itself, into the minds of the man and the woman standing there that it almost looked real. At that moment, another image started appearing. An image of a girl standing just at the side, so un noticeable and quiet that even the two other figures couldn’t notice her presence. How could I have not seen her before; for she was just another image like the two other figures? How could I have missed her as she had been there right from the start? Deep in thought, a realization struck me so forcefully, that I could look at it no more. I turned around and started walking hurriedly trying to retrace my own steps. Was it my wild imagination playing tricks on me? Was it my mind that had drawn the image of that quiet, meditative girl or was it something invisible and unnoticeable at first glance? These were questions I couldn’t answer.

A strong urge came upon me to go back and see if the third image actually existed in paint or not but I was so over whelmed that in the midst of the brain battle and the tons of bombarding thoughts, I could not stop , even if it was for a second. I rushed even more quickly towards the car. For the first time in the nothingness that I had felt lately, it struck me that the sun had gone completely out of sight. Enveloping the once so peacefully blue sky was the darkness of the cloudy blankets. The drizzle had stopped but weather had turned even chillier. I could feel my hands no more but the rushing blood had made my cheeks burn .With my heart still pounding from the shiver of that momentary revelation; I had the strangest emotional sensation ever as if my own subconscious has come into sight of my very conscious.

I jumped into the car and drove myself back losing all track of time and space. As if I had undergone a memory loss which wasn’t acknowledged until I parked my car infront of my apartment. What had come on to me, I couldn’t figure out. Lost in the blankness of my own mind, I heard the sputter of a roaring engine outside. Impulsively I pulled the curtains aside to look Through the Glass once again.

The exterior was the same as I had left it to be but the image somehow had lingered with me like a shadow. Only I didn’t allow it to come inside my house. Was it following me or was I leading it? I was faced with the quest once again. This time only, I was the one observed by the outsiders that stood to my face. This time only I had switched places. I stood there, being felt observed and a chill ran down my spine. Unable to absorb anymore of the intense emotional sensation, I let go off the curtains. Shocked and surprised, I froze there. Mindless and mindful as I was…yet I wanted to confront. But who was it that I had to confront? There wasn’t any existence and yet there was. Was it my own self that I was confronting? Clueless and determined, I pulled the curtains back with one hand, only to become a part of what I was running from. I stood there letting the figures examine me and realized that they didn’t even know if I existed like the third figure. Was this what the artist wanted to accomplish? Was this the very sensation he wanted to make the observer feel? Was this perception what he had tried to convey or was it just a reflection of my own thought process? Confronted by another enigma, I finally gave in, settling on the thought that the artist had realized the act of turning his conception into a living reality, granting it a perpetual existence embodied with a body and soul.

I let the curtains fall over the other world with an acceptance of its own disparate identity and walked towards the couch with a feeling of peacefulness in my heart. I was back in my own world and felt satisfied and blessed to be part of it. Never had I felt so blessed to have what I had.

Taking out my cell phone from the purse, I met the reality of my world when I saw the To-do list in my hand. I picked up the car keys and went out to see the sun clearing the sky. I decided I had to finish all my errands today.

by Zuellah Huma Ahmed

Add to: Facebook | Digg | | Stumbleupon | Reddit | Blinklist | Twitter | Technorati | Furl | Newsvine


The Seed that Never Really Grew!! May 7, 2009

Filed under: Creative Writing - Prose — zhahmed @ 8:36 AM
Tags: , , ,

Standing at the kitchen window, I looked out to see a neatly mowed front lawn with lush, green grass and an array of pleasingly colored flower beds. The surroundings were marked with the sweet fragrance and vivid colors of the flora. Their faces gleamed under the glorious morning rays, blessed with the heavenly water that kissed their cheeks to their heart’s content.

The sun was coming up, signifying a brand new day full of work. The fluttering butterflies, the crawling insects and the chirping birds mesmerized me. Indulged in this magical display, I shifted my gaze to the interior of my kitchen. Everything was spotless as I had left it the previous night. The electric kettle sat at the side of the counter, clean and ready to boil the filled water, the clean utensils hung quietly by its side. I moved my eyes around to check if everything was perfect. The tap was tightly closed, the cooking range was speckless, the cloth hanged neatly from the oven handle and everything else was nicely tucked in the cabinets.

Scanning around slowly, I noticed a tiny seed lying quietly in the sink. How could it have gone un-noticed? I picked it up and opened the cabinet below to throw it in the dustbin; only to be stopped suddenly by a racing thought. Looking at the brown seed so aesthetically placed on the palm of my hand, I thought if it was meant to be discovered by me. Maybe I could grow some life out of it, I said to myself. Holding it tight in my hand, I scanned around the front lawn to find a suitable place to plant it. My imagination overwhelmed me and I could already see a dainty, young plant before my eyes.

Still in my night suit and sleepers, I hurried outside and stopped at a spot exactly opposite to my kitchen window. The place was ideal. I shoveled a little with my hand and nicely tucked the seed under the earth. Then I rushed to fetch the sprinkler and watered a little bit.

Every day I religiously watered the area, shoveling the earth a bit to make room for the drops to glide by. Searching for some signs of life to pop out, I knew it would take some time for the seed to grow. As I stood at the sink washing my dishes daily, I would look out to see if there was any progress. Then I would just say to myself that I should give it some more time. Maybe it is a slow grower. The idea of a young bush with beautiful green leaves, full of color and vivacity made me feel ecstatic.

Sitting on the kitchen table facing the glass window and sipping at a warm cup of tea at each afternoon, I wondered about the life that must be trying to grow out of the tiny seed I planted.

Day after day passed but there were no signs of life. The summer had just set in with plenty of sunshine around. For six weeks, I diligently sprinkled the earth yet it reaped no rewards to soothe my eyes in the hot sunny days to come.

The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning that the time might not be right. The spring had gone by to let the summer in and maybe the scorching heat had made it impossible for the seed to grow even with the constant nurturing. Or perhaps the seed wasn’t going to grow at all.

With millions of questions colliding like water molecules in the glass of my shaky hand and my dreams shattering down, I couldn’t arrive at a single answer. After a week of continuous turmoil and thought provoking meditation, I made peace with myself by settling at the fact that the seed was never really meant to grow.

This was a rare exception but like everything else this seed did have a divine purpose. Although my eyes did not find the solace at the end of the whole process, but my heart and soul had revamped something very intricate and delightful. The gift the seed brought me was in the form of connection to the Divine source. Realizing that no matter how much effort you put in creating the best possible environment for something to happen, the existence cannot be created unless it is destined to be.

Settled at this new discovery for the time being, I thought to move on with my life holding the whole experience back in my memory to retrace and waiting excitedly for a prospect to sow again once the time was right. The seed that never really grew actually did after all, in ways unexpected and served its purpose well. It did open many seedless avenues flourishing itself into an immortal being. Indeed the seed was truly not meant to grow!!

by Zuellah Huma Ahmed