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I'm starting a small muse

I have often seen the older generation talking fondly of certain traditions pursued by different people from different parts of the country, that has now long been forgotten. I thought it might be fun to pen them down, as a means of helping them re live their childhood, and also since I have known of youngsters being ignorant of their traditions, this is to sort of educate them.

So, in case you hear your parents or any elders talking of certain 'traditions', feel free to share them, with the country and the part of the country that follows them.

No promises, this is just an idea I had long before, that somehow lost priority among all other priorities and since I have some free time on my hands I thought whenever I have time, to write - coz I am at a loss for ideas to write

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Seeing this camera brought back memories of a time when it only made appearances on special occasions—our birthdays, family trips, or gatherings during the late 1990s and early 2000s. I vividly recall watching my parents take photographs with it, and when my siblings lay their hands on it, envy bubbled inside me because they deemed me 'too small' to handle such a prized possession while they were also small but relatively elder than me.

One of my fondest, yet bittersweet, memories is the ritual that came with it: the hunt for an empty camera film roll, the careful process of loading it into the camera, and the anticipation of capturing moments without wasting a single shot. Then came the waiting game—taking the exposed roll to a studio to ‘develop’ the photos. The excitement of holding freshly printed photographs was unparalleled, but the stakes were high. If you misplaced the roll, the captured memories vanished forever.

Today, cameras like this have faded into the background of our lives. Unless you're a vlogger or a professional photographer, who needs a dedicated camera when our phones can do it all? It's strange to think that my nephews will likely never experience this piece of nostalgia. To them, it will be a relic, an ‘antique’ akin to how we marvel at those massive old radios of the mid/latter 90s—equal parts fascination and amusement.

This post is purely a trip down memory lane—no special reason other than the wave of nostalgia that hit me. I was beyond excited to discover that my father still had this gem tucked away among his things. It brought back so many memories that I couldn’t resist sharing it instantly.

Now, I’m on a mission to convince my brother to find me a camera roll so I can relive the experience of using it again. Fingers crossed I can bring this little piece of the past back to life! I feel like an old grandma writing this but, who cares....

Picture 1 - Front view of the Camera

Picture 2 - The Place where you insert the camera roll

Picture 3 - A picture of a camera film roll from Google

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Screaming inside my head

A pain one cannot describe

How can I describe when it's not physical,

But emotional....

And debilitating....

I want to make it stop, but if only I know how.

Hanging on to that last string of hope,

A thin string, with fear it may snap

And I'd fall into an abyss, losing myself.

The guilt keeping me up at night.

Murmuring prayers under my breath,

Seizing every opportunity to pray.

Trying to keep myself busy, to stop worrying

But for how long can I keep myself occupied?

Smiling for as long as I am able to, avoiding long glances afraid I might break down and blow up the charade I have been putting up.

Maybe only time will tell, and my head is making up all the worst case scenarios one can ever come up with..

©Shadeen Ibrahim (shadeenwrites)

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My back hunched,

Shoulders bent

With the weight of expectations

I feel like I have let people down,

But I see them happy and I am glad

But deep down a pain gnawing at the edge.

Have they noticed how aloof I have become

Or have I always been this way,

And It's just that 'I' have come to terms with it only now?

I hope it's a phase.

Something I could grow out of.

But can I entirely?

I am happy

And I want to be

But there is something holding me back

People

Their potential thoughts,

Comparison

And expectations

I feel like I have nothing to be happy about,

Or perhaps I have,

And I'm just foolish, looking for more,

The inconsistent pattern, a reflection of my conflicting thoughts.

It's a phase, I did good and I did well

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C -section vs. Normal delivery (Laymen POV)

I received many responses, some stating their experience, others telling me their story and the rest giving their opinion. From all the responses, a common phrase I came across was, 'a c-section is never easy' and hence I agree.

Cesarean section, C-section, or Cesarean birth is the surgical delivery of a baby through a cut (incision) made in the mother's abdomen and uterus. Health care providers use it when they believe it is safer for the mother, the baby, or both. The incision made in the skin may be Up-and-down (vertical). -Hopkinsmedicine.org

For some mothers, opting for a caesarean is never a choice. They are forced to, considering the circumstance, to mitigate complications, either to the mother, the baby or both. Recovery takes a long time. Imagine having a wound above your waist, where you normally fasten the belt of your pants, how would it feel? The discomfort, the pain and whatnot. Imagine waddling with that pain and doing chores, despite being asked not to bend, you still end up doing multiple squats unintentionally. Then waking up in the middle of the night to nurse a child, while your eyes plead to be shut while you are in a semi-sleeping position adding more pressure to the wound. The constant fear of having to check, have the stitches removed, why does the stomach look swollen. Is something wrong?

During the surgical procedure the risks that may come about, sometimes losing the ability to have another child, and sometimes being traumatized for life. Some even live through an existential crisis afterwards. The list goes on.

Some sisters have also had bad experiences with their stitches being infected or something similar to that. However, they are unable to express themselves because their spouse or inlaws are of the belief that, a C-section is an easy procedure with no pain and that what the new mother is experiencing is a part of what a normal woman who had gone for a caesarean would experience. Ignoring such a condition could give rise to further consequences, so I highly recommend being educated on it.

Let's say the wound has slowly healed and now years have passed but some of the consequences would remain.

However, in no way am I saying that vaginal delivery is any better. Imagine having to push an entire mini-human out, the size of a watermelon whilst also experiencing a pain similar to that of bones breaking and sometimes ending up experiencing a vaginal tear, that requires stitches. Can't emphasize enough the intensity of the pain, which science has discovered, varies with the mother's moods, fear, experience etc and is different for all.

Now to my second point, 'paternity leave. While we all know maternity leave is given to a new mother for a period which varies from country to country, in my opinion, paternity leave is also a must. Paternity leave is granted in some countries, however not all and if at all it is granted, private companies/institutions don't always grant this luxury. Why a luxury you may ask, for one the father/ guardian also gets a good opportunity to bond with the baby, but most importantly they do understand what their partner goes through and render their support both mentally and physically, walking them through their emotional breakdowns and what not. Ever heard of postpartum depression (PPD) women do require a lot of attention post-childbirth. When I say attention I don't mean materialistic attention, but rather support, help, and also constant affirmation. (Hopefully planning to do another post on PPD)

Point to note.

Carrying a child to term, while experiencing discomfort, mood swings, hormonal imbalance, and sometimes, other complications is beyond strong. C-section or a vaginal delivery has its own pros and cons and shall never be grounds to determine a women's strength. It's sad to see that some 'women' shame other women based on what procedure had been followed during childbirth despite knowing the feelings. This post can never do justice to the above theme, however, hope this helps at least by a fraction. Kindly do not fall prey to what people talk about without knowing facts, lest be brainwashed by them.

Shadeen Ibrahim. (a random girl strolling down a road of misconceptions clearing the path for the forthcoming crowd, whilst making a voice for the crowd that stands by the side and ahead)

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"Boys are strong,

Boys don't cry"

A lady reprimands her child

A common phrase now ingrained in minds

Perhaps I am treading on an almost intangible line.

Was it wrong for him to cry?

Does it make him any less of a human?

A young lad, now a middle-aged man,

Anger coursing through his veins,

Vexed at the prospect of being seen with his guards down,

Due to a haphazard fallacy,

Romanticizing Masculinity.

Expecting people to be their true selves,

Yet shunning their heartfelt emotions.

I wonder, are they living beings,

Or mere lifeless emoticons?

Hiding behind a facade,

Unable to portray their sentiments,

For they'd be disparaged.

Hence unable are they to seek help

Resulting in rising numbers and a decrement in population,

Had they been taught,

It was okay to feel, cry and heal

Had they been heard,

Their struggles and sorrows

It's a 'had they',

Not 'they were'

Big difference.

©Shadeen Ibrahim

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A silhouette of whispers hovering my form,

A blanket of hate draped around my shape,

For a mistake, I hadn't committed,

For a fault that I am to not be blamed for,

To trust or be trusted,

I have lost the sanguinity to do both.

Robbed of a future that I once envisioned,

Because my skin has been carved into a form,

That no ointment, no treatment, no 'Fair and Lovely' can heal,

A liquid made to educate and help,

The very reason for my destruction, the irreplaceable scab

While judgmental stares have finally befriended me,

no matter how bitter, I have learned to taste them.

Coz I know they are unstoppable,

I have to get accustomed to a new experience,

That has me scarred for life,

All I can do is to advocate,

Against harm to either gender,

That could potentially distort their personality, disfigure their appearance, tarnish their future.

I am the voice, of an acid attack victim

©Shadeen Ibrahim

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"What does freedom mean to you?"

"The feeling of tenderness and replenishment. Untouched by the curse of the vice, unbound to the felonies the world has to offer, Gazing at the spot you deem the fields meet the sky, The epitome juncture, when antonyms meet, the allegorical horizon, while flowing sound of water and the birds chirping fill your heart with contentment.

That's freedom to me.

A bubble of peace amidst a world of chaos."

©Shadeen Ibrahim

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"What does freedom mean to you?"

"The feeling of tenderness and replenishment. Untouched by the curse of the vice, unbound to the felonies the world has to offer, Gazing at the spot you deem the fields meet the sky, The epitome juncture, when antonyms meet, the allegorical horizon, while flowing sound of water and the birds chirping fill your heart with contentment.

That's freedom to me.

A bubble of peace amidst a world of chaos."

©Shadeen Ibrahim

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On The Edge Of Trust Lies Hope

The pearls that exaggerated the beauty of maidens, decked in gowns and dresses, 

But it's Ironic how those pearls, a beautifying accessory,

Has now  veered into a symbol of melancholy, 

As it slides down the once rosy cheeks. 

Havoc wrecking the peace to cease.

Now of a bitter taste,

when previously words played a game of chase.

The patriarchy in society compels the belief that misogyny is a norm that continues.

With no fault or blame but a default in the society's make. 

Though the female population is the aim,

In my words, but I refer to both genders the same. 

Who is it then to be blamed, when the cases of catastrophe prevail? 

The lives of men are at stake.

As we shun the topic of trauma, therapy and convalescence, alike. 

The flames of trauma

charring perceptions to ashes,

The wind carrying them away,

Yet the tread remains, 

The tread of the burnt embers, 

The memories etched deep,

Like the corals in the deepest of blue seas.

Unknown to the organ belonging to felons of emotions, 

Harbouring the need for peace. 

Yet unidentified to the self-esteem is the magnitude of desire,

To carve hope into being. 

Expecting it to become a part of the soul,

Yet hope is barely seen, 

Because it's an intangible feel, 

kindled by the heat of trust only to heal.

And that is likely only if we adapt to change, 

If we become more welcoming,

And that is logical only If we author change. 

So the aura of trust, love and empathy shall seep, 

Through every crevice perceived.

Because we know and believe,

That

On the edge of trust lies hope.

©shadeenibrahim

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You need to strike a healthy balance between being extreme and being mild. You can either lose yourself entirely while drowning in the depths of life, or you can simply sit back relaxing while life sifts by.

The former can make you depressed while the latter could make you too carefree. You can't expect everything to be served to you on a silver platter. Sometimes you need to fix the platter yourself while reaping the fruits of your hard work.

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Couldn't have agreed better

“Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.”

— Coco Chanel

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Not Your Regular Slab of Chocolate

The hard exterior slowly softening with time and warmness,

The sweet delicacy tickling one's senses,

According to the flavour, numerous names,

With a different intensity in a race of fame

The psyche of man is nothing but similar,

The stringent exterior, camouflaging the soft personality within,

While fondness and care only could knock down the walls he'd built around himself,

Encased by a nonchalant demeanour,

A cryptic persona, an inexpensive charisma,

A hard charade, An ambiguous enigma,

Though the rightful recipe is noted,

Can't be duplicated because the procedure is too complicated,

And then, no wonder people fall in love with chocolates

Chocolates being an impersonation of themselves,

It's almost like looking into a mirror and realizing,

That it's not your regular slab of chocolate,

But a shadow of yourself just in a different shade.

©shadeenibrahim

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“Be softer with you. You are a breathing thing. A memory to someone. A home to a life.”

— Nayyirah Waheed

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"How do you do it? Having your sanity intact despite everything. How do you keep going?" She asked, a glimmer of admiration shining in her eyes.

"I know that whatever that's happening now is a phase that'll pass. Though I still find myself drowning in the dark, I see a light at the far end, and I have to keep going, no matter what, to reach it. Once I am there I know that the effort I am making is going to be worth it. I just have to have faith, Faith in God and faith in myself. You are your greatest cheerleader. Keep yourself accountable for your actions and things will fall into place." She replied, concealing the inner turmoil she was going through.

If only she could practice what she spoke, things would have been easier.