Tuesday, 7 March 2017

Justajoo ~Stories From Urdu

(Urdu; search/ a quest)

Your short term memory is a jumbled drawer of videos, hashtags, Outlook emails and angry Facebook rants about world leaders trying to kill us all for the greater good.

Remember that tiger striped butterfly shamelessly flirting with the plant you always over-watered? And that alpha aggressive pigeon, squatting over and edging away sparrows from the mud-coloured water bowl in your back garden?
The animals, I hear, have left our cities and all gone home now.

You can always look them up online. 

~hyperbolemuch.blogspot.com (Watch the video here and follow me on Instagram @hyperbolemuch for moreStories From Urdu)

Thursday, 23 February 2017

Murshid ~ Stories From Urdu

(Urdu; spiritual teacher)

And when ballots of hate leave the world spinning on a knife shaped axis.
Clouds of hysterical group adrenalin, making us forget that blades only owe allegiance to steel and razor.
I find then, that each breath I take moves me to a place
of darker grace,
softer safety,
And the answer inside, that only flesh and blood can undo, the cruelty that flesh and blood performs. 

~hyperbolemuch.blogspot.com #StoriesFromUrdu 

(Aside: The politics of recent years has left me feeling more emotional than my rational brain would like to accept. I've participated in arguments about race, gender and choices of hate so sharp that any fall out of the choice is argued as an okay price to pay.
I've participated in arguments where I'm so heartbroken and horrified at what's being said and admittedly at who is saying it, that everything I've said after has been almost unintelligible and far too emotional.
So what I'm trying to say is, that the last few years and as recent as this election has taught me that politics is personal.
And thank god for that). Watch the video here.

Friday, 17 February 2017

Hasrat ~ Stories From Urdu

(Urdu; longing, a melancholy)

Lovers all around the world are committing murder and it's not even making the news. Silently suffocating full, innocent roses between pages of books.
Turning entire shelves into graveyards.

Only so when they're 83, they can hold an old book up and remember:
a cold day in February, the salt and smell of the skin on her wrist, when she was 24, and no one other than them had yet discovered this planet. 

~hyperbolemuch.blogspot.com (Watch the video here)

Thursday, 16 February 2017

Uqdah ~ Stories From Urdu

(Urdu; Enigma/Puzzle) - 
(For new year budgets and an entire country sitting outside the 50L per annum bracket). 

No one's yet learnt how best to establish a relationship with money.
Not those who tried to make a lover of it.
Nor those who waved to it from across the street.
Though as non discriminatory as ageing; debts like wrinkles eventually made their home around every mouth.
Framing like parenthesis, blank spaces where smiles of childhood once stood.

And every time the skies darkened and fat droplets fell upon us,

"Look", my grandmother would gesture,
"even God's having a tough time with bills this month.

He's got cracks in his ceiling."

~hyperbolemuch.blogspot.com (Watch the video here.)