ranyayapp

[ranyayapp]

x / martha gellhorn

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[ranyayapp]

btw I am doing it afraid

[ranyayapp]

Franz Kafka, 1912

[ranyayapp]

Amarbail

"𝙕𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙜𝙞 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙞 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙞 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙯 𝙝𝙖𝙞. 𝙏𝙪𝙢 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙖 𝙠𝙤𝙞 𝙗𝙝𝙞 𝙝𝙪𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙗 𝙚𝙠 𝙝𝙞 𝙟𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙪𝙧 𝙠𝙤𝙞 𝙗𝙝𝙞 𝙞𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙖 𝙣𝙖𝙝𝙞 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙝𝙩𝙖 𝙠𝙮𝙪𝙣 𝙠𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙤 𝙠𝙖𝙧 𝙙𝙪𝙨𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤 𝙖𝙖𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙠 𝙥𝙤𝙝𝙖��𝙘𝙝𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙠𝙝𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙖 𝙨𝙖𝙗𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙖𝙯𝙢𝙖 𝙖𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙝 𝙠𝙖𝙖𝙢 𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞."

Life is something that often leaves you feeling ashamed. You, me, or anyone else—we're all riding in the same boat, and no one wants to get off because standing on the ground and watching others reach the skies is a task that tests patience and brings immense pain.

[ranyayapp]

𝘔𝘰𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵-𝘦-𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘴 𝘬𝘢 𝘢𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘩𝘳𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘲 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘪. 𝘔𝘰𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘣 𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘩𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵-𝘦-𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘴 𝘬𝘰 𝘬𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘮 𝘬𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘪. 𝘠𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘢 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘯𝘪 𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵. 𝘏𝘢𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪 𝘯𝘢𝘩𝘪 𝘢𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘵𝘪.

-Amarbail

[ranyayapp]

died desd

Tum bahot achi ho alizey…

Lekin mujhe tumse mohabbat nhi hai!

Ye matt kaho ke tumhe mujhse mohabbat nhi hai, tumhe pata hai isse mujhe kitni taqleef hoti hai!

[ranyayapp]

[ranyayapp]

— Franz Kafka // Richard Siken

[ranyayapp]

I loveu

[ranyayapp]

my winter break goals: 1) check out as many books as possible from the library and read all of them 2) journal as if my life depends on it 3) write poetry, especially bad poetry to reconnect with myself 4) hibernate as a squirrel would do 5) try a new recipe at least once

[ranyayapp]

How was life in the 1960s? when my grandmother was a little girl, she had two braids with those ribbons, she walked around in her small shalwar kameez and sat around the wood that burnt to keep them warm and how she watched her mother flip rotiyan while speaking about how the woman next door got beaten up by her husband because the house wasn't tidy enough the day her husband's guests came. What did that little girl think? Did she tell her elder sister that she wanted to be a teacher? Doctor too, most probably if she ever saw one in the 1960s. Surely serving a man wasn't on the list.

What is my grandmother's full name? I never asked. Hell, I never knew her name until I reached 14 or so. No one has ever called her with her name. She has her name on no document. She is my grandfather's wife and everyone's "ammi." That's it. That's all I know of her. What was she when she reached teenage? Did she laugh with her friends about guys? did she write diaries with ink pens that were washed away by the rain? She told me she put Tibet cream and red lipstick on her wedding day. I gave her a beauty blender and taught her what a concealer does. Does she think of how different she was at 16 as compared to how I was with her? Did she get angry when she was spoken to in a loud voice? What strength does it take to silence a woman of that kind? of a girl whose dreams were buried every day of a girl who was so angry. I inherited that, I don't think it's a man's rage that I've got. A man's rage would make me a horrible person, but I know I am not. This is a woman's rage and a woman's intelligence and not just a woman's. It's plenty of women, thousand women before me. My grandmothers beautiful long-haired mother, whose cheeks turned red in the sun as my grandmother tells me. My grandmother loved to study so much, as she tells me, she never went to school after grade 5 but her oldest son, who passed away at 7 left a bunch of elementary school books, which she used later to teach herself urdu, so she'd understand what the teacher wrote on her dead son's books. She taught my mother everything from sewing to cooking to staying silent, and my mother, being the nuisance she always was, let me loose, all open, all crazy, all wild, tells me to go talk to men which would have had us all shot in the 1960s. But my mother is crazy and I'm crazier and we are both just girls, also remind me again. So, how was life in the 1960s?

[ranyayapp]

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Perhaps in another universe, in another life, I'll have a mother, a very beautiful mother, who will smile whenever she looks at me. I'll be her baby; she'll comb my hair while I rest my head on her lap. She'll tell me how she relates to me and how she cares about me and doesn't want me to go through pain. In another universe, she'll save me. She'll save me from all the hurt in the world, instead of hurting me. In another universe, my mother's voice is music to my ears. I do not run away from it. It doesn't scare me. It doesn't make me scream, yell, and hide in fear. In another universe, I'll run home. I'll run home so fast. I'll run and hug my mother, and we'll laugh. I'll talk to her when she braids my hair or kisses me. I'll laugh with her in the kitchen. Perhaps in another universe, we sit together for long periods of time at the beach, and I feel seen and heard. Perhaps in another universe, I'm not her cursed child. I'm not a burden. Perhaps in another universe, perhaps in another universe, I wouldn't have ruined her whole life by being born.

In another universe, everything falls into place. But the heartbreaking truth is that the universe doesn't exist. This is the only reality we have, and it's all we'll ever have.

The reality is to live in this universe knowing I ruined her life, knowing I did not do it knowingly but it is my fault, to go through the pain she makes me go through to feel how it feels like to ruin someone's life. This is all I get, and It's unchangeable.

[ranyayapp]

I've been walking holding a huge bag that weighs more than me carrying the remains of everyone who was in my life, I'm a very nostalgic person, even though the rope hurts my hand and it's bleeding and I can't walk straight anymore I can't put that bag down, because for starters I don't know where to keep it down safely so it doesn't get damaged and I come back to see it. Suffering is the most painful thing to ever be faced, I used to think endings are bad, but sufferings? Suffering is seeing everything quietly and observing so much, knowing so much and wanting to say so much but being quiet, staying quiet, staying quiet because you let go of your beloved that would get the reference of everything after hearing you out, you let go of your beloved because you loved them so insanely to see them suffer later in life, letting go of your beloved because of uncertainty in your life, suffering is just knowing all this, knowing the pain is permanent, it won't lessen because I will not let it be lessened. I'll walk around carrying a baggage, but my beloved's memories were larger than that, larger than me, so I thought I should stab myself. Thinking if I saw the blood leaving my body, my tears would dry up, I would know that my suffering has come to an end, but it will not be, simply the suffering will be passed onto my beloved. It won't die with me.

So I will live.

I will live dragging the baggage and leaving a trail of blood behind, hoping my beloved finds his way back to me. I will live so my beloved doesn't have to carry me in a bag and walk, I will live with suffering, with grief bigger than my weight. And when they ask me what my story is, I will tell them, I lived and loved and laughed and lost.

[ranyayapp]

I'm scared of being indifferent after all I do. After being educated, successful and maybe even owning big things, I'm scared of fading into difference with all the amount of knowledge that I accidently stumbled upon, books the sizes of my face that I have memorised. I'm scared of fading away into darkness after my whole life was spent trying to be different, to try and have courage to bear the knowledge. My uneducated mother smiled at me after I told her this, you really didn't need to put yourself through all of that she said, she knew better than all the books I had read, will I fade into indifference mama? No she said, I know better than you in all forms because I was made to learn things which of most were against my wishes, you my dear, built your own great wall of China with the things you have studied, do not fear being indifferent, we come from dust and shall go back to it. You my dear, she spoke again, will make a better life for yourself, you might fade into indifference but you shall be surrounded by peace. Peace is where you will end up.

[ranyayapp]

I've decided if people are going to call male characters babygirl then I can do it the other way around for female characters. She's my man now. That woman is my boyfriend. My boytoy even.

[ranyayapp]

It's very funny how we all collectively agree that the past is in the past but we search for people that resemble with the ones we had in our past because we refuse to let go of their part in us.