Unsung Hymns Behind The Wailing Walls

 "I don’t belong there anymore. That identity of belonging left me a long time ago. And now, here, I don’t even have a name to possess. What a ludicrous irony! I left them to reach here, but I never reached a place where I truly belong. That existential crisis between a necessity and craving is strange… I abandoned the homogeneity of my existence in order to shed my scales and create a new one, but I lost both in the midway. A metamorphosis interrupted… So the question is: why did I pull out of there in the first place? That’s an essay of a research paper. Just scratching the bygone wound and making it bleed doesn’t make any difference. That land where I belong and love is no more than a beautiful illusion for me. And the land where I came is the reality where I should accept myself and move on. But neither of them works out. The final truth is an inconsistent reality — a hanging bridge — where one day, the resonance of nostalgia could break…! Inspired by a famous quote, I could ...

  Don’t you see? My Badlaa… It grows stronger every day. And it will come true. I’ll watch M***** crumble into dust — not out of jealousy, but justice. I'll witness the rage in his eyes as he tries to burn me for daring to exist outside the script. But he won’t touch me. That’s not how this game plays out. He’ll retaliate. Oh yes, with all his power and glory. Let him. Because I — I have years of longing turned to hatred. And that kind of fire? It could burn gods alive. Maybe he’ll try to compromise. Maybe there will be a moment of silence between the war drums. And then, I'll sing: “Zara tasveer se tu nikal ke saamne aa.” I see his rage already, roaring through his eyes like a thousand suns. But darling... no. I can’t give up. This is my revenge. My resurrection. My curse and my cure. And maybe... just maybe... He’ll bow — not to me, but to the weight of his own pride. He’ll finally understand what it means when I say: “Don’t underestimate...

Have you ever noticed strangers walking through the streets, especially when you're looking out from your workplace? That little world you see through a small window... I've always scrutinized it. Growing up, I daydreamed through the doors of my classroom— the blurred days of my childhood past. Then through the corridors of my college, where Shelley and Shakespeare held hands together, where Che Guevara and Gandhi fought side by side. And now, through the cubicle of my workplace, where ethics and etiquette sometimes collide— and at times, rebel. Sometimes, I wonder about all the alternate lives I could have had— if I were the person standing on the street. The man wandering with a perplexed face... The kids cycling through the roads, making noise... The young man with tangled earphones... The mother singing to her baby in the pram... I wonder— what if I could step into all those virtual realities for a while? To seep into the dreams of each... To be their wish, ...

For the past few days in a row, I've been lost in the world of movies. Today, my attention was particularly drawn to a movie named 'The Gray Man'. Halfway through, my eyes were drawn to the character bond between Claire Fitzroy and Sierra Six. Even in the midst of those action sequences, a fraction of his affection pierced me. So, as usual, I sank into the ocean of my untold miseries. But why, God, why? Why does this haunt me? But my conscious mind replied back in a moment, 'Don't you remember, darling? The thing you've always craved—melancholy for a brotherhood—that pain is the byproduct of your colossal delusion.' Okay then, let me trace back to the beginning. I was 8 when I first realized the biggest hole in my life: the absence of a Big Brother. At that age, I never knew that this would make me the most vulnerable girl of the millennium in the future. At the age of 12, I became attached to a film actor. Guess who? None other than the Bhaijaan of India—th...

Dear Lady, I know It's too late there which marks an early dawn here.I know that you miss me!But what I miss more is your authentic self.I still remember the days when you used to yell at me like "Vappa,Why this life is always cruel to me?Why can't Almighty save all this breath and mercy". Do you remember my reply?? "Dear little child,Get used to the fact that life is unfair in all it's glory and fame.Look around.Everyone is failing in a game they seldom reveal;Same twists,just different plot.You ain't the only one! O daughter,you who silently weeps all night and day,Hold your feet together firm to the heart and firm to the ground.You will survive this too!! (To be Continued) ~ ✍️Salma Aneesa Babu🦋

  "Before commencing creation, Almighty gathered the souls of Prophets He would send down to earth and told them that He gave them scripture and wisdom; after all of them an Apostle (i.e. Muhammad (Pbuh) will come and confirm their scriptures and that they must believe in him and help him." [Al Imran 3:81] She was born with ecstacy.The results of two thousand years of waiting..Her smile might have resonated with the angels of heavens.Her Arwaah resided with the soothsayer...She comprised the essence of 124000 anbiyas...Her soul transcended through the times of Ibrahim, sat with Idris,aligned with Mahlabeel,ran with Hajr between the Safa Marwah...,climbed into the Arc of Noah,witnessed the crucifixion of Salih's Camel,unsheathed the sword in corroborating with the Leader Prophet Muhammed PBUH and to the nooks and  cranny of the wild dense visons of the unseen world.. And yet , look she  is here.. Amongst us.. Fainting with the fate of God..Unable to pick up the audacity of...