Heavenly Muse

I always try to personify any feeling by explaining them in terms of tangible human behavior. Though it’s weird yet it works. As it become easy for me to mend myself .As last night I was thinking about the feeling of jealousy .I was trying to portray what exactly happens while a person becomes the victim of such a poisonous emotion. Then it reminds me that when I caught the infection of chicken pox at the age of 4, there was sheer itching on my face. But my mother asked me not to rub that itching spots as it would ruin my face. She told me to be patient as once the infection would be cured so thus the itching. Then I came to the conclusion that jealousy is like a constant itching. Every time you feel it, you want to rub yourself .Friction produced heat. Itching boils down for a moment. But it again appears. Constant rubbing reddens your skin and then there appear scars. Scars continue to exist for few days and left behind constant mark. The force you invest in rubbing your own ski...

I am feeling so empty today as if I am having no control over anything happening around. Then following few lines seemed of doing a catharsis of my perplex condition. “ All my life I believed I knew something. But then one strange day came when I realized that I knew nothing, yes, I knew nothing. And so words became void of meaning. I have arrived too late at ultimate uncertainty . ” Ezra Pound

It is a general course of life that one keeps learning and changing one’s personality with the passage of time. Times changes, personality changes and so the behavior .I used to think that it would happen to me as well. And this natural embracing of mature ways of life keeps me safe from making same mistake again and again .It will bring gravity and sagacity to my personality and I would no longer be the same old bewildered Arooj who would want to express herself but then would hold her words aback with a wish that the listener might understand her silent pain. I still remember that after my fist week of school, my teacher said to me mother, ‘your daughter never weeps loudly, and she just sat and heaves sighs .that is something very uncommon in the children of this age. My mother did not believe as I was very bold child at home. Very confident and brave one. But it started happening in the later years of my childhood. I would speak alot,would share my bookish knowledge with...

Flood, diseases, inflation, unexpected problems, family issues, and study’s matter .My mind had been mingling with such kind of stuff from the last two months. The prevailing pain in my surrounding did not let me to turn on my PC .The reality was so bitter that that I could not find any words to flourish my blog. Sometimes facts make us dumb and miseries do not let us play with the idealistic world of abstract words. Though I am not directly the victim of flood, yet I can feel the causes, effects and aftermath situations. The insensitivity of human race not only snatched the essence of humanity but also invited the wrath of divine hand. Well……………………..I am here to say hello AFTER A LONG ABSENCE to those who felt my absence and even those who do not even know about my existence J .

Last night I was reading a poem written by John Donne in which he scolds his beloved that why she cares about the opinions of people about their relationship. As he believes it is something against the passion of any emotion to pay so much attention to one’s own reputation and people’s openion.this very poem drags me to my real world and the mess created by unwelcomed opinions passed by unwelcomed critics. When we stepped into mature phase of life, we find ourselves in the realm of strict observation and we can’t even figure out that when the shower of criticism gets started. We are not given any to chance to find out any slot to hide ourselves. Because, the people who pass their opinions about our personal matters, do this job with such an authoritative aura that we cannot even think about of checking them. But, do we really want to check them? I guess not really. Because in some other frame of reference, we are also the part of this very irrational community of critics. We also...

Even at our birth, death does but stand aside a little. And every day he looks towards us and muses somewhat to himself whether that day or the next he will draw nigh. Robert Bolt