LIFE AS IT IS

I was at an urgent care centre on a November morning following a severe allergic reaction to some cough medication I took the night before. It was 8 a.m. and after filling out some forms, I was sitting in the waiting area, waiting to be called. As a woman walked through the front door, I nonchalantly looked up at her. I was not at all expecting to see something that I never saw before, but I did.  The woman, who was Caucasian, appeared to be in her 40s, and had a split lower lip and a black eye, which she tried to cover with her hair. I had seen victims of abuse and domestic violence in pictures and videos before, but it was the first time I saw one in real life.  I did not look at her twice though. She was clearly in a lot of mental and physical pain and I didn't want to add to her discomfort. But I was breaking inside. I felt like going up to her and telling her that things would be better for her sooner than she thought. But of course, I did not do any of that. I wanted

What is it that we chase? Money, power, dream, love? Or just a mirage? Often, the closer we get to it The faster it disappears. Our hope shatters. But we don't give in We start anew with renewed hope A journey to touch another mirage. © Wara Karim 

Such a short life, yet we run after money and power like we will live here forever. I feel pity for ourselves. 

Roasted peanuts from Whole Foods Market. They taste just like the ones from my childhood days in Bangladesh! I got them for the second time yesterday. These are that good! If you eat them with some salt+chili powder, they taste even better. 

It asked me to look at the sky,  I looked above my head, And I saw mechanical bees, Humming and hovering, Searching for their next targets. It asked me to look at the horizon,  I did and I saw red, A cushy blanket red in blood. That day, I witnessed not a sunset,  But the sad demise of humanity. It asked me to look at open fields. I saw no fields, only barren lands. I saw bodies of slain men, women and children, I saw books, toys, pots and pans - All burnt and broken. It then asked me to look at a busy street. I did and the siren deafened me. I saw ambulance and police car, I saw fire truck and yellow tape, I saw chaos, I heard cries, I also saw a bleeding man - his right arm missing. Writer's page © Wara Karim

Summer bid goodbye not too long ago, but winter is already here, rushing to say hello. There is a short season between summer and winter though, a season that is crisp and colourful. During the presence of this short-lasting season, you feel neither the scorching summer heat nor the bone-freezing winter chill, both of which make life unbearable. I feel its presence in the afternoon when the mild sunshine and cool breeze flood me and my surroundings. Autumn reminds me of my winter days in Dhaka.  I loved winter in Dhaka. It never really got very cold in those days -- a jumper was enough to keep a child warm when he or she headed for school in the morning. It usually warmed up by afternoon and we would take our jumpers off and tie them around our waists. Autumn here in America feels like winter in Dhaka – a light jacket, jumper, or sweater is enough to keep myself warm and cosy.  On an autumn morning, I wake up and tiptoe to the living room in search of my slippers. The hardwood flo

The world is in my palm! "Global news?" Yes. "Weather updates?" Yes. "Friends and family?" Oh, yes. "Games?" Of course. "Camera?" Aye. "What's left?" Plants and animals perhaps. "Hmm... no living things then?" Nay, nothing alive, Also nothing that I can touch or feel.... "How do you then say the world is in your palm? Those people on your phone are just pictures, Those voices you hear are distant, You cannot see them, And you ignore them when they're in front of you." But... "Hush... Let me finish... You know why? Because you're too busy, Living life in your own little palm." © Wara Karim

Little things matter. Things as little as… The first drop of summer rain,  Or the first ray of sunshine At the end of a dull morn, Or a teensy bead of spring rain Dancing on a blade of grass.  Little things matter. Things as little as… A stranger’s smile on a crowded train, An unknown man’s hand of help When you can’t lift your own bag, Or a strange woman's pat on the head When you cry for your lost parent 30,000 feet in the air.  Little things matter. Things as little as... An unknown child’s “Hello”  In a crowded mall, A friend’s teary “Good-bye”  Before she boards the bus back to her city.  Or a lost friend's four words in your inbox - “Do you remember me?” © Wara Karim

It’s the little things in life That make life beautiful.  We carry a stranger’s smile,  Gesture of love, Drops of tears With us wherever we go.  We remember the first snowfall In a new country, The first dance in the summer rain,  Or the first rainbow in the western sky.  We remember who gave us a good meal When days were bad, Who uttered word of hope When there was no hope, Who held our hands and said, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” We remember the people, Who made us laugh  And made us feel That the world wasn’t a bad place at all. We remember the blind man We once met at the train station - His white cane was his scepter.  He radiated hope, he emanated courage.  Yes, it’s the little things and experiences That make life beautiful, Ask us to stand tall and brave storm, And tell us that the sun is there, Right there... behind those gray clouds.  You may not see it now, But it's there, there, right there.  © Wara Karim 

Zara's long, slightly curly hair was hanging from the back of a white leather couch. She raised her head for a second and turned it right and then left. "Oh, my neck hurts!" she said to herself. She had been sitting like that for almost two long hours. She knew she needed to leave the couch and mind the million and one important things that were going on in her life, but she was fatigued, mentally. She did not even want to open those kolh-lined eyes of hers - she feared returning to reality. "Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your day here?" Saadi asked her with a smile. Saadi, Zara's husband, was a most loving and considerate man. Zara had always felt lucky being his better-half. No, they did not know each other well before their marriage; they were not romantically involved in any kind of relationship. It was a marriage arranged by their families. But things clicked on their wedding night - they realized soon after tying the knot that nothing c

I’m alone, alone in this wintry morning The skies grey, the trees brown, The roads wet from last night’s rain. I wait amongst all these, Waiting for a perfect moment. A white sedan passes Not big enough, I think. I need a van, or something larger. As I think of the perfect way, The perfect way to end my world,  A sparrow comes and stands by my feet. A tiny life, so tiny that I can crush him. He looks at me - carefree, fearless. I squat on the pavement, And hold my palm towards him. He leaps, Uneasy, but not afraid.  With my hands and knees on the ground I take a closer look at him. He looks back this time, Courageous and confident.  We exchange stares for two minutes, Communicate shhh...  silently. Then he flies away happily, Leaving behind a man, New, sure, and fearless. © Wara Karim