Iqra's Reflections

I picked up my pen to write about life. Rummaging through the memories I had, of the experiences in the recent years, I couldn't decide what to write about and what to leave. To those who were kind, forgiving and there through thick and thin, I can't thank enough. God reaches us through them. Then He calls some of them back, like to my friend Nabeela. Of those who abandoned, stabbed, judged or harmed in anyway, I speak no ill and wish a fast recovery. When my fluctuating self couldn't decide, I put my pen down and gave up the idea. Here's to the years of unfaltering, perpetual and incessant journey.  Here's to another year of learning and longing. 2017.

Like the moon borrows its light from the sun To shine bright at night in front of everyone And at times in the sky it hides, Away from everything, affecting the tides. And it is dark... But the stars in the night sky, Small and distant. Always around, aligned, pleasant. They shine on their own, Mountain to a stone. Little spark. I gaze at the night canopy, Wondering who i can be... The sun? The moon? I'd rather be the star, small and distant. But lights on its own. - via Karina Jamandri I came across this poem and loved it. Poet's analogy of a star with respect to life appeals me to a great extent. However, I am tempted to share that I have liked moon and why I have, for this I am going to share what I had written about it once, staring at it one serene night:   "Moon has scars  But its light outshines them.  Stars have light and the fanciness in the way they shine Their cuts, their fragility..  But moon outshines them. Even th

Only the impoverished hearts are enshrouded in Pride And backbones, as if of steel. Stiff: They fear break and bent. So walk away. You will find peace. A mind that thinks cannot be caged. Freedom to choose on what to think and believe is its oxygen. It will rather be destroyed than be imprisoned. 

Lessons are not learnt in a class room. Nor do they stop coming when we graduate or post-graduate. This world is an institution, more or less. And we come across people who teach us great lessons. Some experiences have altered my view of perfection, heroism, beauty and leadership. I have met some, to whom I didn’t even talk. I don’t know who they were, where did they come from and what were their circumstances but I call them my acquaintances, and they are among my heroes. I want to write about them today: It was a beautiful evening in San Francisco. The fancy Yacht was swarming with people, all dressed up. Tables were full of a variety food and desserts. I could hardly try a few of them, they were so many. It was so beautiful. Finally, like everything else in this world, that party came to an end. The Crew bid us all a warm farewell. Everyone was happy. When I got off, and was walking to the exit, a guy coming from a distance caught my attention and I wondered

I have never liked weapons and nuclear or nuclear weapons. Taking these names, for me, is like swallowing pointed cubes of hard ice. Imagine my state of mind when I found myself sitting in a seminar on the topic. I tried to step out of my shoes as a poet and made some attempts to understand the phenomenon. There were certain interesting aspects that made it to my observation. A poet understands the world down to its delicate details; every fiber of humanity that suffers due to the nuclear, be it experiments, weapons, attacks etc and writes about them. He wants that nobody should suffer, too ideal a situation to wish for, I know.  When the experts of nuclear security think, they think with a top to bottom approach. They think how to plan a program that saves the inhabitants from the potential threats. If one country has nuclear weapons, the other must have them for safety. And when there are combats, ‘casualties’ happen too. Those who write and paint their brushes and

Mirrors and Masks Not longer they last Mirrors I thought, Fell off as masks. Masks I thought, Fell pieces apart. Looked into it; I saw Broken figure so raw Collected and composed Then I chose to walk. Away from... Mirrors and Masks Not longer they last. ~ Iqra ~ Masks are a dark reality of the world we live in. We must guard against them ~