Daring to dream

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How she longed with every fragment of her tiny being, to be beyond the hopelessness and confusion of her down-trodden life, the misery and scorn of unfulfilled dreams and the hurt and loss of failure.

Her secret refuge  was where she found peace, a place where her mind took her and allowed her to glimpse a timeless paradise hidden behind a secluded doorway if only but for a moment. Where the joy and happiness which filled her heart would not come crashing down without a moment’s warning. Where pain and longing were feelings unheard of.

A place where her life was beyond the wickedness and evil which war brought with it. A sanctuary, where one could dare to dream and hope filled the air with its dazzling presence. Where young love was not  scorned and passion was allowed to run its due course. Where a mind and heart would not bleed away with the burden of all the pain chained up inside. Where the innocence of children would not be tainted by hideous sights of death and destruction. Where eyes would no longer weep for loss and pain but sparkle with merriment and wonder. Where each moment would be worth living and every creature would be thankful, brimming with contentment at last.A place where only dreams could come true!

nadia nawaz

The overwhelming darkness

Solitude-600x450He was a man of few words yet the very few he did speak portrayed a multitude of various sides, giving him a raw and mysterious aura.On the exterior he looked younger than his years with a boyish smile, dusky brown hair and greenish gold eyes which held within them bottomless depths. They lit up and sparkled whenever he smiled inducing a similar sense of joy and delight into the person gazing into them. Continue reading

And life surely does go on!

A sudden sense of dread and fear washed over me as I realized that I had done it once again. Not soon after however, it was replaced by a numbness so intense that I became unfocused, aloof and unaware of the happenings of my surroundings, driving my entire focus towards an attempt to find the item I had misplaced.

Being as absent-minded as a person can get, I always have this conscious feeling at the back of my mind; wondering when the next incident of me losing something I cherish will occur. Kind of like an obsession, I mentally tick off everything that’s important to me at the end of each day thankful for everything that I have been given.However what’s strange is no matter how careful I am, I always end up losing items I love and people I care for in the most absurd ways possible.

Everything in its own way leaves its mark, creating a sentimental place in us which very few choose to acknowledge or even admit. Loss is something we are all accustomed to in one way or another. This does not singularly have to do with the death of a person but can be related to the loss of any material item, loosing touch with a friend, a petty conflict which can cause an irreparable rift between two people, loss of a pet or even witnessing a disturbing incident. Moving through life in such rapidity, many of us fail to grasp the impact of loss when it does come. Each of us deals with it in their own unique way, indifferent to others.

While some choose to shut it out completely, others tend to revisit the memories allowing themselves to feel the same pain over and over. Though there is no set way to deal with such things allowing yourself time to comes to terms with it and focusing on the more positive aspects of life always helps. Focusing more on people worse off that you, and admiring their resilience can help us to deal with our own disappointments  much more easily.

nadia nawaz

A test of time –Her life

http://www.flickr.com/photos/superboggly/

The Afghan-Tajik border. Panj river can also be seen. © Alexander

Day after day she watched as the bombs landed somewhere in the distance, not too far from her shelter, destroying her city and all she stood for. The vast valleys surrounding her with their beauty unmatched by any other place were slowly becoming a victim of the brutality of other men. Men she watched with trepidation in her eyes, yet was somehow unable to despise. For when she offered them tea or water, she saw in their eyes a nothingness and hollowness like none she had ever witnessed before. Above all she pitied them and feared for their souls, for they were mere puppets, following orders of a superior power, bound by an oath too powerful to overrule.

She spent the days tending her sick and injured babies, struggling so hard to fight a battle with an end so imminent. But she refused to give up. The dreams of a better life were forever alive within her heart. And as she lay down on the stretch of hard ground at the close of a long hard day, looking up at the stars, she recalled all that her mother had taught her so many years before. Continue reading

Through his eyes

Source: Afghanistan in Photographs-Facebook

Source: Afghanistan in Photographs-Facebook

He raised his head and looked up at the sky in a desperate attempt to be rid of the hell he was living in. His face a mask of anguish, his eyes brimming with tears as he stared up into the dark night sky. He was not ashamed of the tears that rolled down his cheeks for he had been strong for much too long. His breath caught in his throat as he felt his strength slowly seep out of him.

Mustering all his energy he raised his hands and yelled in frustration. The pain gnawed at him eating away at his insides day by day yet there was nothing he could do but watch. Spread all around him were stacks of dead bodies and human remains, left so savagely in the streets, unclaimed, deserted and unburied.

Bread vendor, Kabul, Afghanistan, 1992 © Steve McCurry

Bread vendor, Kabul, Afghanistan, 1992
© Steve McCurry

The war had taken away from him, the very reason for his existence. His hopes and dreams crushed so brutally, he had become hardened by the physically demanding task of survival.

The human suffering and agony was unbearable to witness, a strong beautiful young man once so full of hope now a hollow mask of ruin and isolation along with the many other children of war…

Source: Afghanistan in Photographs-Facebook

Source: Afghanistan in Photographs-Facebook

Nadia Nawaz

Will you be hunted?

I was brought up being told to dream big. But simply dreaming big was not where it stopped. Following my dreams, trusting my instincts, and doing what was right was also mandatory.

I have always gone by this rule and followed my heart, doing things which make me happy all the while keeping within certain limitations and self-imposed boundaries. I have learnt to pick myself up along the way, never ever to back down once crushed and to plough ahead constantly replaying my moment of glory in my head. This has helped me a lot, especially during those tough times when I feel as though I’m alone out there, fighting a battle which refuses to end, daring me to make one wrong move; or maybe just a tiny slip.

But what if someone tells you that dreaming big is wrong, that your rule is faulty and your goals unrealistic and unattainable; that all your ambitions are way out of this world? They try their hardest to undermine you, and demoralize you with every step you take, waiting for the moment when you are most vulnerable.Seems like a huge slap across the face and an awful lot to swallow especially after all those years of envisioning the very dreams people now consider impractical and naive.

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You suddenly begin to go over and re-consider all your plans. You become unsure of yourself, your own abilities which you were so sure of before now seem to be flawed and incapable of helping you achieve your goals. Your targets begin to seem unattainable and those dreams which seemed so vivid before now become a hazy mirage at the back of your vision. You let other people weaken you and you lose.

The power they now have over you is so enormous; it has the magnitude to destroy all you set out to achieve. You begin to drown.

Word’s always have the impact to make or break a person. Letting someone’s words affect you in such a drastic way could be the stepping stone, which if allowed, could result in your downfall.

Though it may seem impossible and extremely hard at times, being strong and standing your ground is the only thing which can help keep us standing. The world is full of hungry vulture’s busy hunting. The question is this, will you allow yourself to become a victim; a prey to be hunted?

nadia nawaz

Sparkle!

Tiny droplets of rain on my bedroom window-2 a.m.

Tiny droplets of rain on my bedroom window-2 a.m.

What is the first thing that comes to mind when looking at that picture? Golden glitter? Fireworks? Maybe a scattering of sequins or a spray of golden paint. Yet what’s amazing is that those tiny illuminated golden dots are in fact little droplets of rain shinning like starts in the night sky. Beautifully captivating, yet so distant. There’s always a story behind every image. That what makes it so special.

I took this picture at around 2 a.m. It was just one of those long sleepless nights; the one’s when too much caffeine and sugar keeps you up, way past midnight. I was staring out the window, brooding. My mind was refusing to slow down; processing random odd thoughts. It started drizzling causing the street light from across the road to light up the tiny droplets which had collected on the glass window creating something so mesmerizingly unique. That’s when I couldn’t help grabbing my phone and taking this picture!

Beautiful no?

Beautiful no?

The human talent is similar to this very image. Every single one of us has a flair for something, be it writing, painting, singing, designing, cooking, gardening even building, you name it!  Yet the challenging part is to try to discover your inner glow and to engage yourself in what you do best once discovered. You can’t expect yourself to change overnight. It takes hard work, practise and patience to nurture that talent and mould it to perfection.  We must understand that each of us is special and unique just like those tiny droplets of rain. We have the capability to transform our talent to create something beautiful.

“What a frightening thing is the human, a mass of gauges and dials and registers, and we can only read a few and those perhaps not accurately”
(John Steinbeck)

“Weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.”

(Bonnie T.Barry)

 “Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found. Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn. Trust dreams. Trust your heart, and trust your story”
(Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things)