Sometimes, we all strive for freedom in spite our hearts as broken as the desert house. Bantering at the corners of our shattered confidence, we all struggle for a courageous heart that can console the broken-dead’s even for a second. A whole new journey that left souls to fall apart either, or can change them forever. Dangling between this’s and that’s, at some points of life we all have lost love in multiple forms: for some its their opposite gender while for other it might be family, dream job, magnificent passion or their own wild heart, a heart made up of gold that turned bronze or a pure soul that adopted the gate of wild horse to defeat the chained cages of society.
With all this’s and that’s, in a country on the north-southern corner of planet earth, a girl was born on December 21st. Though the name was as sweet as the nectar of the struggling sunflower with urge to get the attention of sun, but society has its own values; a culture that is good for none except the society. Growing up as the cursed, she suffered as being the targeted victim; the life of the first born girl of family. Though the couple was happy but her fraternal family blamed her for every little misfortune; from boiled spitted milk to the death of any member, the girl was cursed. But, the girl with golden heart, full of love, affection and gratitude grew up as the beneficent soul. Society started to speak about her manners. Under the starry sky while others being the slothful sleepers, she counted stars and dreamt about the moon; her childhood friend, the Luna of the earth, the symbol of faith, the height of gratitude, her only best friend who used to enlighten her with its cold-drizzling light. Since nothing lasts forever so as the girl, she turned older and older leaving behind her this’s and that’s with broken questioned soul while inserting a big slap on the cantankerous reality of the bastard society… (CONTINUED..)
My all readers,
Firstly, I am sorry that I have been absent for a long period of time but now I promise to share the sweet-sour blasphemy of my penning’s regularly(Insha’Allah). ‘The wandering Her’ is the story of one of my very dear ‘HER’ and I wanted to share with my all friends on the other side. Sometimes, we are just the collateral damage in someone else war against themselves but instead of all the good’s and bad’s, we are somehow, abide to accept the situation. The topic is very sensitive and I would request you all to please support me with your sweet words to complete this shear-blasphemy. Even now, with heavy heart, I am penning the script but I know I have to be more courageous to make it till end. Albeit, I have tried my best to not make any mistake, but if I made any, “Please” ignore the writing, grammatical or scripted errors. Last but not least, share this with your friends and family “to safe the suffering Her” around you. I know, I am gonna get a lot of the message about “Him” but trust me I appreciate “Him” as the Him’s are stronger and courageous enough in the society I live in. I don’t know about the reading “Him’s” over there, but the society, I grew up and the society where this her had suffered is the society of Him.