The Dream of a Ridiculous Man – Fyodor Dostoevsky

“A dream is a strange thing. Pictures appear with terrifying clarity, the minutest details engraved like pieces of jewelry, and yet we leap unawares through huge abysses of time and space.”

 This is a short story by Fyodor Dostoyevsky written in 1877. It chronicles the experiences of a man who decides that there is nothing of any value in the world. – Wikipedia

The journey of a man from a nihilist to a believer, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man walks us through his suicidal inclinations, a small encounter that changes the course of a lifetime, a sudden sleep, a vivid dream, travel through space and time, a parallel universe, corruption, social constructs, a change of mind and the attainment of ‘truth’.

Dostoevsky writes this story based on his own experience; a dream that changed his view on life and the human condition. He examines the self intensely, asks questions that he seemingly can’t get answers to and when he does, rejects the notion of knowledge being more important than love. He maintains the belief that suffering gives life meaning and changes us, how we interact with the world.

“On our earth we can only love sincerely with suffering and through suffering. We do not know how to love any other way and know no other love. I want to suffer so that I can love.”

This short story is also full of allusions to Christian faith; a figure of grace, references to crucifixion, humanity’s ‘fall from grace’ shows a hint of the fall from Eden, and the realization “love others as you love yourself.”

A work that untangles fold by fold and seeks to talk about a multitude of themes, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man is a compelling story on nihilism, faith and humanity.

~ Saadia

 

 

Spring

 

Its beautiful.

The tiny velvet blue petals and white dandelions, the sparrow and its hearth, the pine. The budding grass, lush and young, the marbled columns, long roads and the singing of the rare scarlet bird. Its magic and I have fallen for it many times but there is this dark place inside, where the night reigns and stars peek through sometimes, smoke and carnage, broken bones and tired limbs, grey and raven, overlapping and drowning, spring has not found a home yet. Not yet.

– Saadia

Color me Grey

 

The grey had found a home in the white, it consumed ruthlessly until it was dark and dull, like the sky had turned ashy. But it was beautiful, it was the color of death yet it felt like the beginning of all we never had, it was grey fog on our work of art but it was breathtaking.

Bronze, auburn and heather have their share of beauty but mauve is a breath of fresh air. The air tasted sharp the day grey took over, like droplets of water, the color of sea foam were dispensed somewhere inside. The air looked like the color of broken bones but it was stunning, like ivory had met stone.

Raven and ink have their share of hiding our scars but slate is the color of invincibility. The ground was soft the day grey took over, like its burden was already gone, like broken promises and unmet dreams had sailed away like dandelion seeds. The ground still looked shaken but it was bracing, like obsidian had met tangerine.

~ Saadia

Run

Run, kid, run till your lungs ache and your shins split open. Run till you leave the dead earth hanging on the shattered horizon. Run, leave the immaculate fields behind, plains where the grass is too green, run and strip the unnecessary. Run, love, run till your eyes have drowned in an ocean of stinging tears, run till the trees drift away into an illusional distance. Run till the rain has drenched your bones and the snow nestles in your hair. Run till you are carved raw, run till you find the abode of your demons and the abbey of your angels, run , for the sake of your damned life, run. Run till colours drink themselves up in the sky and the night folds into herself.

– Saadia

Aura | Part 2 of Dusk and Darkness

Read the first part of this story here :Dusk and Darkness

Xavier had shot his first arrow at 5 years of age and today, after 13 years his iron tipped arrow didn’t fail him. In a clean swish, it buried itself into Digon’s chest and he disappeared in a swirl of black fragments , a sign of wreckage.

Xavier looked paler than usual, his coal black eyes rimmed with scarlet , the red of sleepless nights, strain and sometimes, of nightmares.

“He wasn’t the last one. They won’t stop till their dimension finally spreads into ours. The Dark is coming and that too, faster than I expected it to” said Xavier rubbing his eyes.  I swatted his hand away, one of the many times I had to remind him not to rub them raw.

A bell rang somewhere in my mind and I thought of Frank, the head of the Department of  Investigation and Assistance.

“Has Frank found any clue of the movement of the Ethereal?”

The Ethereal were a tribe of half-Assassins born from supernova , who appeared to only those in need of heavenly assistance . While Assassins controlled the spread of the dimension of Dusk, the Ethereal helped them here and there. By here and there I mean once in maybe a decade.

“The Ethereal aren’t showing themselves at the moment. They tend not to mix with Dusk slaves, it pollutes them, just like it sucks out the human parts of our being, slowly but surely. Frank needs to think of a different line of attack,” claimed  Xavier.

The Ethereal were meant to help us and they were hiding their faces like we were not a bunch of Assassins in need of life saving but a handful of kale needing a massage. That too quite literally.

“ Over 35 Assassins need his help as of now and he can’t help himself or in this  case, any of us.”

This was the thing about Xavier; he tackled problems like one might deal with mathematics, analytically and unemotionally, like any of it didn’t have a power to affect him. But I wasn’t him, this scenario daunted me in the least but I silenced my fears. Xavier hardly associated with people who suffered from scareius infectius and I didn’t want to be one of them.

…………………………………………

Xavier sat, polishing his arrows while I searched the Dursen manor. It was a neatly kept house with no hint of suspicions but then again, reality is almost always wrong. I looked through the drawers, the kitchen cabinets, under the chimney , behind the fireplace but found nothing that would suggest alignment with the Dusk Queen. Perhaps , the deal was made shortly before we’d arrived. The only thing I did manage to do was to get a considerable amount of soot on my clothes and some on my face. Good going.

I stepped outside and a muscle in Xavier’s face quirked .

‘What’s so funny?’

“You can’t seem to undertake a task without severe repercussions.”

“Haha. Very amusing.”

I began to rub at my face, trying to preserve a bit of dignity in front of Xavier. He never looked disheveled and scars only gave him substance.

“Let me do it,” he said, standing up and plunging something into the fountain water. It was a crimson bandanna . He began to dab the grime on my forehead , my jaw and my chin. I tensed . Xavier never did these kind of things , he liked to be free from care but who knew how many days we were going to have . It could be a month or maybe a few weeks.

 

He leaned in suddenly and a breath hitched in my throat . But he pulled away just as suddenly, seemingly regaining poise. I shrugged off the hesitation, remembering that  Xavier had always been the withdrawing kind, distancing himself from all things ‘attachment.’

“Let’s run down to Poppy’s,” he was saying now .

I said something like “Uh-huh”.

God.

to be continued…

~ Saadia

P.s. My blog has been unresponsive for weeks now- some technical problem, but I think that I’m finally figuring it out . Please don’t lose faith in me just as yet. Hope you enjoyed this 🙂 ❤

Dusk and Darkness

The raven rose higher and higher, swishing past the fountain and up into the dark sky streaked with an ugly shade of violet. She was coming. Time was short and so was life.

Inside, Jessica and Xavier sat , waiting for Mr. Dursen.  Alfred Dursen was another man from downtown L.A but what separated him from most people was the way he babbled about how he could see goblins, talk to warlocks and spot a transfigured witch among normal cats. That is what made him useful or rather, resourceful for Xavier.

You see, Xavier was an Assassin , that too a subtle one. Once a  kid with a pierced nose and a shaved head asked him if he was magician, Xavier offered to drop him at the doctor’s. He was searching for a clue, just one clue that could lead him to the DuskHeir Queen and Dursen was his last resort.

Suddenly, a sound behind Jessica escalated and she jumped up. The man behind her had a familiar maimed face from a burn which covered his jaw and his neck . It could have been no one else but Digon , Digon the Dusk slave. He slashed out and something glimmered in the dimness of the evening,  a dagger.

Jessica shot back with a fist in his ribs and darted towards the fountain where Xavier stood. As Xavier raised his arrow, Jessica tried to slow her breath, dreading what the DuskHeir queen may have in store. Dursen was a pawn and the darkness was spreading… to be continued

Note: I haven’t been posting much and i am in a weird place at the moment, stuck in a rut. But I will post stuff whenever I can . Much love ❤

~Saadia

 

Summer

 

 

 

 

She looks like a ray of light, like the sunset, like the sky after rain, like the sea looks when it kisses the sky at the horizon and she radiates warmth like Christmas lights but like fire, she looks fierce.

She smells of lavender brushed with bonfires, like chestnuts and tall maple, like the violets and lilacs , up in the mountains.

She walks with the stance of a ballerina and she sings throwback songs that remind me of childhood. She plays hard and loves hard. Being with her feels like summer and that says a lot.

~Saadia

One More day

My Mountains

For Kashmir, my land, the broken place holding broken hearts,the place that lost a million sons, the disputed place with a striking, ironical beauty. Here is to the Paradise on earth, the place I gladly call home. 

Poetry : A gallery

This is something so special for me. It took me such a long time to do all of this even-though it may not seem like it. I’d be the most content person if you’d share and spread this piece of art, crafted with love by me. Keep the pieces you like and please keep circulating this post. That would be my wreath. Thanks a lot for everything. 🙂