ZARA M.

By profession, I have learned to observe the world. I watch geopolitics thousands of miles away, wars unfolding in places I may never see, the strategies that precede them, the calculations that sustain them, and the casualties that remain after them. I study nuclear proliferation and doctrines capable of shaping the lives of millions. I follow the day-to-day movement of an arms race, the language of deterrence, the posture of states, and the intelligence contained not merely in what is reported, but in what remains unsaid. I have learned that sometimes silence carries more information than a statement. My days are spent trying to understand international relations and security: why states behave as they do, what they fear, what they desire, what they conceal, and what they are willing to sacrifice in pursuit of what they call national interest. I watch borders become tense, alliances shift, old rivalries acquire new meanings, and familiar certainties slowly disappear. The world I stud...

The heart endures beyond the threshold of pain, aching for what transcends the horizons of existence. It keeps smothering, further, further until murkiness begins to feel like home.  And if one's fate has to lodge where twilight rests, perhaps even darkness becomes familiar.   And should the light forget the way it came, the heart would not remember it was owed one. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart, As it has always made to our ears that love has no language. It is, itself, a language that communicates through several channels unknown to the mediocre. But as the world says, French is the language of romance; it encloses emotions and depths of devotion. I wanted to write you in French, something beyond my native language, yet still a part of my emotional currency.  Mon cœur bat pour toi. Ju sius affectueux pour toi.  Ju sius absorbée par toi.  Jéspere que tu comprends mes sentiment.  Jéspere que les étoiles s'alignent.    This was something I desired to personally write to you in other than English. Perhaps there is something beautiful about choosing unfamiliar words for feelings that are already so familiar to the heart. A different language makes the same emotion feel newly discovered. I will write you in every language I can find, until words themselves become insufficient, and then perhaps I will write to you in the language that needs n...

Dear Heart,  As Mahmoud Darwish writes, "We suffer from an incurable malady: Hope," I believe it is yet a small ray of light in a world where gloominess sways over. Though hope keeps a person in limbo but cynicism and melancholy are far drier and more desolate, causing nothing more than grief and tribulation.  With the passage of time and through philosophical reading, I have learnt to find meaning in suffering, and that suffering is hope. The buoyancy to believe that life can take recantation at any moment provides a unique level of comfort and shuns much of the distress of life.  I still hold onto this quiet faith that light is here, and I need only raise my soul high enough to see it. Your permanent absence is still witnessed with strong faith; though the heaviness intensifies at times, grace remains poised. I dream of my beacon turning into reality, one day.     ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  The grace of September has brought mixed certainty; the golden haze and unfinished goodbyes are all that linger. Changing skies, fading summers, and approaching autumn fetch new hopes, as the old leaves will fall, but new ones will arise.  The gentle decay of us, though tormenting, awakens a dream of afterlife, where the reality of you might not be evasive but a beautiful part of life.  Standing at a bridge between suffering and aspiration; I anticipate the cadence of modern existence with an endless shadow and emotion of you, and the eternal realm with the reality of you.  With the ache of change,  Bye.     ~Zara M.

Sometimes we humans are not aware what God is protecting us from by not giving us what we desire the most. Staring at the sky today, watching the stars align and de-align, I realized, our stars work much the same way. At times, they collide with those that do not work in our favour, yet we, enticed by them leave no avenue unexplored, praying for them to align. And in the process, we exhaust ourselves, physically, mentally and sometimes even spiritually.   Though each of our step plays a role in deciding our destiny, not everything we pursue is meant to become ours. Perhaps some doors remain closed not because we are unworthy of what lies behind them, but because there is something beyond them that we cannot yet see. Maybe, sometimes, what feels like a denial is simply another form of protection. ~Zara M.

We have a devotion beyond time, a longing that outlives time.  We shall keep one another in our hearts  and never make it known to the world.   Even if we lie to each other,  the eyes will secretly tell the truth.   Though time may stand against us,  eternity shall belong to us. ~Zara M.

When fate goes cruel and emotions go high, Just keep staring at the show and do not let yourself sigh.  Ebb and flow is what makes life intriguing,  Peaks and valleys are merely seasons renewing. If at times you feel blue,  Recall how life has rewarded you with a view. If the heart hungers to conjure,  Let old memories wander yonder. Or if the anguish swells, Letting go is the terminal choice that dwells.  ~Zara M.

Dear Heart, The cave I always feared to enter has dragged me towards it. Destiny, at times, is very cruel, but the feeling that comforts me a bit is that the moon and the stars, along with the sun and its shine, the sky wanderers, heavenly shades, and the trees of forests, have all witnessed my tenderness for you.  The inmost heart has befriended every tiniest creature of nature and now, the living world knows how amazing you are. I tend to believe that fate turns the moment it sees two hearts craving each other's presence. We have become a target of that mercilessness.  I have not abandoned you; a piece of my heart still belongs to you, but the heartlessness of foreordination has shattered me into pieces; it has fractured my very soul.  Drinking cups of coffee and writing is my only escape left.  My dawns rise with one colour missing, and my pen pines to writing your name.  Tonight, the weight has returned once again.      ~Zara M.