the hayat project- ebook

So, the book is finally here! And it is for free. You can download it here as well from this blog by clicking the image below. Do let us know how you feel about it.

Over a 100 poems, prose, and photographs. More than 30 writers and photographers. This book contains various emotions expressed in words and photos.

The Hayat Project began as a project providing people with a platform for free flow of thoughts and ideas. They believe in becoming a medium for the voice of people belonging to different backgrounds and wanting to express themselves.

the hayat project

Amazon:

 

Universal link for other channels:

https://www.books2read.com/u/bMrERa

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The empty sky

There’s a lane I walked through too many times, almost everyday, with memories in every step taken. The street lights have not been too bright or bright enough to consume the silence that falls. Faces smiling and walking with ice cream in one hand and some groceries in the other. There’s a mart where the owner sits and smiles everytime you go in to buy something. There’s familiarity there. The city is always bustling with people and their energy. That was the city I lived in. That was the city I still love. 

I’ve lost people there. I’ve gained many more bonds. I have a love-hate relation with that city. I didn’t want to return to it when I lost him. It reminded me of everything. I returned. 

The city holds so many stories in its heart, keeping it secured from all the dangers it is famous for. That’s the city brimming with danger and that’s the city that feels home. Isn’t it strange?

I’m surprised at how many verses of poetry it has written and those written for it. Everyone has something to say. They have threads of love hanging in that city. 

What a storyteller it is! The story of that girl trying to reach home safely with fear in her heart, the story of that boy trying to fit in with his friends, the story of that student away from home and making a new home there, the story of every individual that has walked the streets of love and hatred all in the same place. 

I would stand on the terrace, under the empty sky, looking down at the empty road and wonder about life. Sometimes I’d stare at the sky and try to find a star or a particular one. There was just so much hidden in the layers above that the stars weren’t so visible. 

Maybe that’s what I’m looking for most of the times, the empty sky, trying to find that lost one and maybe discover something new. 

Muse

Presenting my first ever collaboration with Girisha Govil. We decided to write something of our own and merge them. Little did we know, our words started fitting together on their own. Stay tuned to more posts on our blog. 

Girisha is a budding writer with interest in fashion designing. She likes to think a lot and think deep, trying to untangle her thoughts while enjoying the tangled mess. She’s an artist. Among her many talents are painting, writing, and designing. Currently a 17 year old, she’s already an award winning swimmer. Give her a cup of tea, a piece of cake, and random life conversations, and she’ll be a philosopher you’ll want to know about. At just 17, she has enough life experience to understand life, but enough innocence left to experience it further and learn from it. A beautiful human and a wonderful friend, she defines all her roles so well. You’ll find her active on Snapchat, yet quiet in actual life until you get to know her. Oh and if you really become a good friend, you’ll get to know she dances well and can be an awesome dance partner. Check out her blog to find stories you can get lost in: https://tanhalafzcom.wordpress.com/



​In the dark hours of the night, she sat wondering when sleep would befriend her. Would it ever? She thinks back on all the times that summed up her life because that’s all her mind would do. She thinks of every decision, every moment, every step that she took that led her to this point. They say that you can do nothing about the past and maybe a little about the future. So, she was stuck in the middle of the night, doing nothing but trying to think. In every past, there was a present of sleepless nights filled with thoughts like doodles filled in the back page of every book, but she did not regret her past because it led her to him, her muse to live life back.

When was the last time she did something that made her happy? When was the last time she filled her day with nothing but words she could weave into stories? When was the last time she lived? When was the last time she wanted to feel? When was the last time she actually wanted to live for herself? It’s not like she never lived. She did, but they were just numbered days and attempts to pass time by. Was it the first time she was thinking such things? No, there was someone else. The same person who tore her apart for years amd other people who continue to  do so. She has never been so hurt by something like this, but she made a decision. A decision to get up the next morning, turn her life around by taking little steps into the future. That’s when she found her knight in the rusted armour. Yeah, she likes the rusty one because she did not want perfection. She wanted all the weirdness, but just with someone who would understand. He did. Even without her trying to utter a word.

She was so scared and insecure with so many thoughts making her feel claustrophobic. She was fed up of just existing. There was no colour in her life. It’s been such a long time and now, she just was tired of all of it. She slowly changed from a discoloured life to black and white scales along with a tinge of orange, pink, red and blue. The smoke was rising from the ashes just like feelings he now started to make her feel. It was new to her again. He gave her hope and at 3 a.m, she was motivated to live. Would it be the same at 8 a.m? She didn’t want to lose this streak of inspiration. As she thought about how she would pass time she realised that she won’t lose this streak for a while but for how long again?

Sleep was a distant friend. She got off the bed and held her pen and paper and started writing what came to her mind. She thought of all the things he said, all the good ones and all the bad ones, all the ones in the middle. She thought of how it could all have been worse but here she was, alive and ready to live. He got through her. He still does. It’s been three months and she is living. She is happy, but scared. She cannot let it all go away for a toss. Again. Who knows how long will it take this time, maybe an eternity also would not be enough to forget him. She loves him. Yes, love. The same big word that destroyed her once now brings colour back to her life.

The intensity of her feelings is increasing as time passes by. Is this something she needs to be happy about or scared and insecure? He keeps her happy and safe. She cannot stop thinking about him and the night they spent together. He held her all night and gave her a benevolent wrap. His touch still lingers on her skin. She wants to give up everything so she could have nights like this forever. The night where he would feed her food and listen to her talk and just stare into her emptiness and the mornings where he would pick her breakfast plate and put it in kitchen. The nights where she could listen to his heartbeat and imagine stars on the ceiling of their room, and the nights where they could share a blanket again and press their legs upon each other. The same nights where he would turn around, pull her closer and gently brush his lips upon hers, leading to a lingering kiss and the mornings where they could awkwardly again look at each other and give a smile for the previous night and the same morning where she would find the love bites and smile to herself. She wanted the nights where he would fix her hair and laugh at her stupid stories and mornings where he would stare at the freshness and they would share moments of silence just looking into each other’s eyes, letting their eyes communicate.  She wanted the nights when he would wait for her to sober up so that he could give her time to trust him and mornings where she would understand why she loves him every time she looked at him. She is waiting for the mornings when she would first see his face and he would ask, “What’s up?”, and for the nights where she could watch him sleep in peace, all settled because he would know that she is there forever and he would never be alone. She wanted the nights where they would randomly walk down squeezing each other’s hand and the nights they would want to go for a swim, but end up doing something else. She wanted the nights where he would button her shirt up because he does not want to share what’s his with someone else and mornings where she would wake up wearing his shirt. Oh! She could lose her sleep for such nights, just the way he did to spend more time with her.

There was something else. Insecurity, fear that it’ll be over too soon. She is scared of the temporary nature of everything. She is scared of falling so hard that it would become difficult to rise again because she does not have more energy left. She is scared of the emptiness that would follow the vacancy of someone this special. He seems more than just special, the word “special” loses meaning to it when it comes to him. She is scared that she’d be habituated to such days and nights with him. 2+2=4 and with that theory, she felt like every time she’s happy, something tremendous happens. That’s how happiness was. That’s how long, or short, happiness lasted. She yearned for the timelessness of everything. She wondered if permanence was more of a curse than a blessing. She wanted to have a story where love didn’t leave her. So, she wrote one. Of hers with him. In a way that makes their present eternal for her to remember and live in when she’d get tired of all the life’s battles. He helped her build this beautiful castle in hell. She injected her fears on paper and became vulnerable. She made certain that no matter how uncertain future may be, she’s going to weigh her fears and sell them to freedom because he is worth it, they are worth it.  

One night changed everything for her. She feels more committed now. She trusts him more than before and more than she trusts herself. The next day, as she tried sleeping her bed felt cold and lonely again. She misses him. She misses the arms that  she was wrapped around in and the touch of his fingers intertwined in hers. She missed the smell of him which was better than all her victoria secret perfume and his breathe on her neck which gave her goosebumps. She misses the warm and gentleness of his lips and the sparkle of his eyes which made all the chaos serene. She misses everything about him and she just wants him 24/7 now. She wants all of him; the good side and the bad one, the happy parts and sad ones and also his perfections and flaws. She is now just waiting for 150 days to pass by. This is nothing but love. Just one of the purest form of love. The same love that discoloured her life is bringing back more colours, all over again.

Memories. She’s making some beautiful memories of pain and love that she’ll write her story with. She’s living in the now because the fear of future have started to get blinded and she’s feeling so light. She could fly and fall, but now she knows he will catch her. She was happy at the thought of making memories and turning the word into a phrase; I love you, forever and always. A complete sentence with intense feelings and stories. She was writing her story of all the memories made and yet to be made.

Because in her life, people were made of memories and real feelings, especially her knight in the rusty armour.

Gravitating towards love 

​People gravitate towards love. As I write this one line, I reflect upon my own reality. Flashback hits me and I think of all the times I thought I was loved and my intuition warned me about the contrary. Why didn’t I Iisten to it then? I should have. But people want to be loved. It’s the universal truth. I think people always find their way to those who love them endlessly, eventually. Maybe it is necessary to meet people who pretend to love you until you find out the truth and gain some wisdom. And maybe, just maybe, you let go of them somehow at some point and meet those who really make you feel loved genuinely. Maybe going through a rough road is actually the path to reaching where you should, where you belong. As I look outside the window, people pass by, busy in their lives, I realise this journey would also result in learning to love myself in places that was missing my love; filling hate with love, insecurities with confidence. 

Yes, people gravitate towards love. 

– Bezubaan (Coming soon)