Chronological Tea Talk

Dear old friend, It’s me. I can’t begin to express how sorry I am for leaving you this long without an update. It’s been almost 2 years since you’ve last heard of me or any of my news and to say a lot has changed would definitely be the understatement of the century. I’m a much-grown woman now with a different perspective, but I’m somehow still the same. The same aspirations, the same feelings, the same dreams, and most importantly, rooted in the same ground. The past two years have thrown me into quite a turmoil of emotions. The crests and troughs that were thrown at me were more than what an average person could tolerate, but I made it through, scathed tho. Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons, doesn’t it? It goes either one punch at a time so that you can barely have time to register or anticipate when the coming one would be, or throw it all at once with all the might there is so that you can barely stand up again. I’ve experienced both in the form of failed friendships,...

    Excuse me sir, madam, colleague, acquaintance, and best-friend. I tend to get lost a lot so bear with me. It’s a habit, a horrendous one that is, and there are stages to it.   First, we’re introduced. We have the same shallow first conversation as others do when they first meet someone new. It’s a tiring conversation, nerve-wrecking and exhausting; we’re still testing the waters. I can’t decide if you’re blessed when you’re categorized as a member in my comfort zone or simply…… cursed. Second, we meet more often, coincidently, and according to the person: fortunately, or otherwise. I warm up to you like a child seeking warmth in the most dire and cruel winter nights. A friendship starts to bloom, can you see it blossom? It might grow in to the crimson red of the Geum spec , often letting the warning bells go off. This might be a toxic friendship, yet too early to decide. Third, I get used to your presence around. It becomes a habit, that subconsciously som...

Alone. It’s an adjective that describes a state of mind, the state of the soul, and the empty void inside one’s heart. One, just like alone, but without the fancy garnishes of the first and twelfth letters of the alphabet. It’s of no coincidence, since you become naturally  one  with the void. You are alone. Alone. It’s when the kettle boils in the inhumane hours of the night to mask the tears that your heart bleeds. It’s when it’s annoyingly loud around you, but even that can’t cause the slightest of ripples in the eerily empty sea of emotions inside your soul. It’s when your thoughts echo inside your brain, going from one side to another, smacking the sides of your mind in a silky smooth manner, as if rehearsed .  Alone. It’s when your thoughts take over amidst the noise, not only to silence each and every sound daring to enter your mind through the gates, but also to strip them from their voices. It’s when those thoughts choose how to interpret such nois...

I've always had a weird and unexplainable fascination with airports. Flights and destinations aside, the actual airport dome, where the magic happens, has always captured my attention. You can witness life's miracles there. A mother expecting her husband's return and a father expecting his wife's. The children waiting for their parents' return and the parents waiting for their children's. A person in love awaiting the arrival of their significant other and a company representative awaiting that of a CEO for instance. The airport is where flowers are given, hugs exchanged, tears shed, and where a part of one's heart is ripped away from them, often unwillingly, sometimes in a horrendous way and other times, in the more beautiful tremendous ways. The airport is where all races are united. Where you get the chance for an encounter with the whole world. Different origins, myriads of destinations, but all under the same roof. It's like a mini...

When I was 7, a strange connection to novels, preferably classical, was formed in the pit of my heart. Black beauty was the first to tie a knot there. With two braids which I used to always wear back then, they resembled the horse reigns, giving me the perfect opportunity to live as Anna Sewell’s characters. When I was 10, we took “A Christmas Carol” in school as one semester’s novel. I was mesmerised by the beauty and the complexity yet the simplicity the story offered. It was when I first learnt to dig deeper behind each word to vividly imagine the underlying meaning they could hold. When I was 14, a thrilling, captivating, and soul wrenching story rested among its peers deep down. Wuthering Heights was my companion for myriads of sleepless nights and often, restless days. It carved something inside of me, a feeling which I was too young to fathom, but I let it reside there willingly. After a year, another made a grand entrance to my heart as well. Having read...

إنك يا صديقي دائم كدوام أوراق الشجر في الربيع المُزهر، فاني فنائها حين تحل رياح الخريف المؤلمة. ستبحث دومًا عن المعنى في البقاء في تلك الصورة المرسومة لك دون جدوى. ستحارب مع الباسلين و تجلس مع المنتظرين. ستتفكر في الكون حولك لتحاول فك شيفرة الطبيعة و لكن... دون جدوى. لقد أصبحت تنتظر الظلام الحالك بشوق أشبه بشوق العاشقين ليخفي ما يحمله داخلك، و تمقت نور الصباح لأنه يكشف ما يخفيه عدوه. أصبح داخلك يميل إلى الوحدة، و يهرب دائمًا من التجمعات البشرية. لقد أصبحت يا صديقي تشبه القوقعة الخالية من الحياة. إنك حاضر و لكن غيابك يسود، تتكلم ولكن كلماتك لا تملأ الفضاء، ترى و لكنك غير مرئي، تستمع و لا تجد مُستمع، تُحب و ينكسر قلبك، تبكي و لا أحد يسمع نحيبك. هكذا أصبحت الحياة، و لكنك ما زلت هنا. تحاول أن تُصبح مرئيًا، أن تُسمع، أن تَأمل، و أن تجمع قطرات الأسى التي ما زالت تنهمر لبناء ما يمكن أن تتطلع إليه للغد و لكن.... دون جدوى. كانت بداخلك الحياة تُزرع لتفيض على من حولك بل كنت من أعطى لكلمة الحياة معنى. كانت عيناك تسحب الناظرين إليها كأنه سحر غير مشؤومٍ. كنت يا صديقي من ينظر إليه...

Dearest,   ​ I know it’s been eons since I last sat down for a cup of tea and a conversation. You haven’t blamed me, you understood even though my excuses were unacceptable, and I knew  that I’ve immensely hurt you with the neglection throughout the past years. I passed by you yesterday when I was looking for company , for a  friend . You were there with all your authentic glory, standing among others in an aura of  honour  and wisdom. I miss   you, I admit, I miss you beyond the league of my comprehension.  You were there from the moment I opened my eyes on the world, you guided me throug h,  and when I felt  the weight of the world on my shoulders  at times ,  you were there to pick up the pieces   and I will subconsciously forever  be  grateful for your efforts to help a n adrift  girl. I’ve failed you though,  by re turn ing  your acts of graceful kindness   with...