Simulacrum

Awesomesauce! Please check out this amazing short story by Hijabi Mentat.

Muslim Futurism

The Ottoman railway line built in 1760 during the reign of Sultan Mustafa III was not only a symbol of Ottoman ingenuity and progress. It also facilitated the flow of people and commerce throughout the Ottoman territories and the surrounding Muslim regions. There were plans of establishing connecting branch lines into Arabia, Africa, and the Mughal Empire. This was to become a titanic undertaking requiring funds, manpower, and the involvement of the best engineers in the Muslim world. In its present state however, it connected Sarajevo to Kars, an Ottoman city bordering the Caucasus. This region over the years had become the theatre of an ongoing bitter struggle between the Ottoman Porte and the Russian Empire.

Every city traversed by the railway built massive stations in a bid to stimulate their local economies. Izmir’s train station was always crowded. It was constantly animated with a continuous stream of human activity and filled…

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Tell Me a Story…

Hello peeps! Sorry for being MIA for so long. But the promise of a story still stands. It is not much of story and more of a jumbled up thoughts of a disturbed mind on a long sleepless night. Without further ado, here you go: The Miracle of a Dream She was standing in a…

My Entangled Thoughts

I can’t speak for other people because their minds are not on the list of places I had checked into but my own thoughts, I have visited often. Thus, I know the questions that arrive in this desolate place I call my brain. They used to be simpler and consulting a parent, a friend or…

Hidden – In Plain Sight!

I My lips are colorless and parchred, But the drink I need is scarce. And thus I march, In the desert, that is our love! I wait for the Oasis To hit me up. II Oh my towering ignorance! For the Voice I seek Is found in the silence

“A Life of Pretense”

I laugh a lot. People take me for a jolly person. it is rather sad that 90% of my giggles are to please my fellows only. I do not restrict my insincere show of emotions to laughing. I have cried for others too. Some of my tears were genuine, others? not so much! If I ever…

The Politically Correct Coward

The dead screen of my old Nokia phone sprang to life as my rather annoying ring tone pierced the silence of the empty auditorium. I ignored it. Ba Dum TSS Another beep. My 6-year-old niece had set this tone when she was visiting me with her Mama. I kept the tune because it reminded me…

The Demise of the Fittest

‘Super’ is what they called me ‘Magical’ was how I was described when all failed, I was the one who survived. I saw my fellows wither, For they could not compete against the changing times. 'Unfavourable conditions,' they cried Then said the world 'Goodbye!' I endured it all, season after season. I grew stronger, With…

On Imagining Sisyphus Happy =D

#Sisyphus #Stone #SisyphusisHappy

Icklings

Too brave to die;

Too coward to be alive,

I am Sisyphus, with my stone.

Can’t despair; can’t hope.

Not knowing, not aware,

Still conscious of the flavors

I devour.

One thing I tell you; Once and for all.

My decisions- all two of them,

Do not concern me

or my soul.

Sisyphus (the stone feller as I am called down here in the underworld) is at your service. I know you know me. I am often discussed among the intellectuals. This reminds me of an existential joke I had heard somewhere:

What does one drunken philosopher say to another?

Am I, who I am?

And

Who am I? If I am!

That was not really a joke and by the expressions on your face, I can tell my ramblings are not having any impact on you. I promise that these were so eloquent in my head, this morning when…

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Guardian Angel

Forget about happy endings. Happiness shouldn't end. Create a mosaic of moments, Sad, happy, happy, sad. Lend me some of those, The thoughts you push back Every time a fresh one arrives. Your discarded ideas fall through a wrinkle. Right into my lap. Let me be the catcher of the dreams, You had never dreamt.…

You Write Poetry, you’d Understand

In that one poem I wrote, You were the first word. That entered my mind. It started with you. My poem, my masterpiece. And then, the emotion had to subside. Still, I meant you, throughout But you didn't rhyme. I searched for a synonym. But what I meant, Only you could define. I decided to…