many #Takes

Take #1

Nadeem Noawara- another rose ripped from its roots to wither, to join the bouquet of occupation. Many martyrs have been killed, many forgotten, and many dis-remembered. When death is a permanent resident, when its a rooted deminision like time and space. Whe nthat happens, life becomes naive, it becomes so silly like the old choke-games we usedto play when we were little. What does it mean to live surrounded by so much death? by so much asphyxiation and hatred? 

As I stared at Nadeem’s almond brown eyes, another wave of despair and loss overtakes me, lefts me to think of the absurdity of my entity- of our entity.Nadeem was just like me, maybe younger or older, butthat doesn’t matter. He liked basketball and loved scouts while I didn’t. He believed in God and religions. All these things don’t matter anymore because they left him when a young soldier with white skin and clean fingernails shot him dead. 

Nothing did matter.

take #2

As i sank in my own thoughts and speculations of percieving what happened to Nadeem, What happened to his immaculate soul. As an act of regret and atonement for being guilty of helplessness Iput Nadeem’s picture on my cellphone background. 

Every day, for many times I looked in his eyes, and thought of him, and ruminated the idea of his existence. I hoped that every time he crossed my mind, we would go back in time to bring him back to life. 

take #3

Life goes on; planes crash, people buy grocery, young dreamers go to the shore, stones are thrown, families are torn… a whole chain of insecurity and sheer debris. 

I go with life too, despite the abrupt period of loss and confusion, I went to the mall to buy a dress for my graduation party, I put my cell phone on the side table of the store, and as i roamed the place, mom called. Nadeem’s face luminated the screen and wide eyes peered to take a look and feed the next meal of gossiping. Little did they know who was that young pretty man. Only if they knew.

take#4

I surrender to the randomness of the world, to its chaotic shape. But i never change my lockscreen background. 

aicha bint yusif's avatar

By aicha bint yusif

Writing is my key to free spaces. I write to let things out and to chronicle some, and you're more than welcome to read them.

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