Bhool Jatha Thha Woh

Bus uskey ek hee kami thee

Bhool jatha thha woh

Chothi baatein kurkay

Bhool jatha thaa woh 

Baday baday waday kurkay

Bhool jatha thha woh

Kabhee nurmee, kabhee qadar

Yeh zarooriyaath

Bhool jatha thha woh

Zaray see hee tu kami hai yeh

Itna kuch aur kurthay tho hai woh

Samjhatha hai zamana mujhein 

Parr meri bhee tu ek kami hai

Sub kuch yaad rehtha hai

Yeh baat

Bhool jatha thha woh

Hiba 

Good Byes...

Those last moments

Those whispered words as your voice shakes
The I love you, the I miss you, the thank you....each pregnant with so much raw emotion.
The tears that we shed but mostly hold back
The good bye kisses that we keep giving
Those many last hugs we give before they step into line

They call it the security line
But rarely do people feel secure standing there
In that line, we feel raw insecurity as we keep looking back at our loved ones

We keep waving good bye with such deep emotion
We feel truely overtaken by raw emotion
For those short few moments,  we feel utterly human and vulnerable .

The kisses blown are filled with thousand unspoken words.
The waves from across the X ray machine carry so much affection, love, closeness as we try to gather one last glimpse of them before they leave

And yet when we meet again at the same airport
So much remains unsaid, unexpressed

Until they leave again......

Hiba

My Mother's Silver

 When somethings are given

They feel like a lot is being taken

Like when my mother divided her antique silver collection amongst us
It felt strange,  it felt wrong, it felt surreal

The exquisite timeless pieces she had collected that had embellished her coffee tables in every home.
Pieces that had always been together were going to be separated in different homes across different continents.

Division always reduces the whole

It signifies the ending or breaking of something; an era,  a chapter, a legacy.

Maybe that's why it's always bittersweet
We may gain individual pieces but the whole is lost forever......

Hiba
December 2021

Baith Jaoo....

 Dear Papa

I know it's hard to see your little, carefree,  irresponsible girl  have such a full plate of responsibilities.  I know when you say, " Thodee dayr baith jaoo", you are asking for a few moments of togetherness but more than that,  you are wanting me to take a break, to get some rest, to catch my breath.

Youth makes you want to be on the go all the time. There is never a moment that the mind is not planning the next meal, the next snack for the kids, responding to some unread msg, juggling work, family and so many other things. I wish I was more mentally present but that's not the nature of the beast called youth.

I see the look in your eyes of awe and astonishment at how much there is always to do.  I know you think it's too much.

But,  I only know all this quiet multi tasking because of my mother. I saw her give guests undivided attention while juggling away on the side.

Like a duck,calm on the surface but paddling away beneath to stay afloat. May be you didn't notice her fatigue and burn out in her youth.

I'm sure her father would have....

I'm told by many that you are lucky to have a dad so supportive,  chilled and progressive. I couldn't agree more.

Love
Hiba

The Noor in All of Us....

 Today is Noor's birthday. She would have turned 28 today. But, she didn't. Rather, she couldn't. 

As someone that knew Noor, she really did embody her name.  She really was Light.  She spread Light.  She saw Light in everyone around her. She believed in the Light within every human being. And, that was her beauty and her greatest vice.

She saw Light where there was only darkness.  She failed to see the darkness in her killer because she was mistaking her own Light's reflection as being his. His darkness killed Noor, her Noor, our Noor.

As we all grieve her barbaric death,  we must not let her death go in vain.  We must painstakingly uncover the many layers of our society that Zahir made Zahir. Ironically,  both Noor and Zahir are one of Allah's 99 names.  Noor means Light and Zahir means exposed.  Noor's death exposed many uncomfortable realities of our society.

We want girls to be embodiments of everything feminine such as be nurturing, giving, kind,  loving, forgiving,  trusting. Noor was all that in abundance.  Our society raises women to be tolerant of masculine rage,   oblivious to emotional abuse, patient  and optimistic with narcissists. An ideal woman is one who can be the best rehabilitation center to a badly raised man. But, when things go wrong; we change the rules and ask, " why didn't she see the red flags", " why did she even give him a chance ", " How could she be so naive?".

But, the women that are guarded,  untrusting, and that don't put up with nonsense; we say they are too modern, too feminist, too independent. 

Unfortunately,  we expect women to have the exact proportions of everything  like Goldilock's perfect bowl of porridge. We want them to be perfectly warm,  very sweet,  have lots of patience,  just a dash of modernity,  not too much intelligence,  abundantly beautiful, independent enough but not really,  negligible courage garnished with heaps and heaps of positivity and resilience.

Noor's Empathy killed her. Her kindness,her goodness were not in the right proportions.  She was too trusting,  too kind, too naive. Eventually,  it was toxic masculinity  that killed Noor. It was the comfort and entitlement of patriarchy, power and wealth that ended her life.

There is a Noor in every woman. The Noor that believes and sees the best in everyone.
We must keep that Noor alive.

There is a Zahir in every man. The Zahir that believes his rage and masculinity are intertwined, that if his ego is damaged,  he can go to any extent for revenge.  We must kill that Zahir.

Happy Birthday Noor!

We will keep your Noor alive by fighting and exposing the forces of darkness that took you away. We will keep our Noor alive by not stopping till you get the justice you deserve .

By: Hiba Tanvir

Shades of Shackles

She with her bulging neckline and loud lipstick
She with her button down work shirt and matte lip color.

They both worlds apart
Or not so much

She uses her body to earn a living
She earns a living but is never comfortable with her body.

She sleeps with many but her heart belongs to none
She sleeps with one but her heart yearns for better.

One night of pleasure doesn't buy love

Many nights of togetherness and still no love.

She is seen as vulgar,  loud and immoral
She is seen as liberated and empowered.

Both enslaved,  both in shackles
Both by society that creates hierarchies of even dignity and honor.

Perhaps she is better who has nothing to lose
Atleast she is not held to any standards

Maybe she is more empowered
Her dignity, honor and worth come from within

She is loud, seen and heard by many
She is  quiet, unnoticed and rarely heard by even her one..

By Hiba Tanvir

More than Red

Such a distance you travel
Every month
With divine precision
You start with hope
Anticipation, preparation to receive
To be the bed of warmth and nourishment for anticipated life

Graciously, you dissolve
Like a river seeking an outlet
Somewhere to escape to

You are received with dread, annoyance, indifference
But mostly shame
Like an ugly dark secret that must be hidden

You are not a stain
You are a beautiful testimonial to the divine balance
You are not just 5 days of dread
But a celebration of life, feminity, youth and possibility

By: Hiba Tanvir