Author Archives: xeniarasul

About xeniarasul

An aspiring writer, and an art enthusiast with one wish: To inhale all the beauty in the world, and emanate it onto those who need it most.

Strawberry Fields

Video

ImageAnd in that void, I swayed. To the beauty of the moment that embraced me. The breeze of silent whispers that softly hit my drums like a soft love song sung behind closed doors and thick walls. And as I closed my eyes, and breathed stronger till my nose converged within itself, I let my worries out through a whiff of air that escaped my mouth. And I was there..

I walked through the garden, sunlit green. Rose kissed trees smiling at me, reaching out for an embrace.

‘Can you walk here to me?’, I asked.

And they swayed their head in melancholy. How unfair life is, isn’t it? To build a desire you simply can not please? Their roots held them back, so I could see. Like most of you, and I, him and she. So I walked to her, so tall and pink and green. And as I melted into the bark of the tree, her twiggy arms encircled me. And as I let go, all dusty and pink, she gave me a strawberry which made me think..

I wonder how she knew I wanted one, so juicy and sweet?

As I treaded on the infinite stone path that didn’t seem to end, I held the strawberry in my hand. And pondered if I hadn’t walked to the tree, if my desire to have one would be in vain? That would’ve been a shame..

So I looked at the vultures that orbited me, and I gulped down the berry before they could see.

My berry, my berry, all mine” was all I could think..

And as the berry struggled through my pipe, and bounced inside me, my vision became clearer and I could finally see. Did the sun just become brighter, or is it just me? I thought to myself..

oak-tree-abstract-study-regina-valluzzi

The sun indeed was livelier, the veins of the flowers pursed like a lady’s lips to kiss her beloved, the grass became younger than I last remembered..

It was a breakthrough, that much I could see. Closed doors opened, visions got clearer, things started to unravel.. And did life suddenly make more sense that it ever did to me?

And as I stared at the gold butterfly that sat on my nose, and flapped its wings to synchronize with my lashes, the voices called out to me.

Wake up, wake up, have you fallen asleep?’.

I felt a tug on my arm, though I could not see. And I reached out to the branch of the tree, to save me. The pull became stronger, and as I let out a scream.. The butterfly turned to dust, the tree fell apart, the sun deceased. The darkness sucked me in through a straw I didn’t fit in to, but such is darkness, and such it has always been..


 

Inspiration:

 

Vertigo

Standard

10154434_10152427021914050_1468745591_n

Come here.

Sit.

 

How did we get here? When we stopped looking for monsters underneath our beds, and started looking for them within and around?

Don’t make a sound. They’re listening.

 

Did you check for the ones hidden beneath the sheets of your bed? The ones that hold you close on a winter’s night, warm their bodies, until summer arrives? Did you hunt them down?

 

How did we get here? When dreams stretched longer than a night, and reality came a bit too soon..but still too late?

Open your eyes.

 

Do you want me to pinch you now, so you know what is true and that which is not? But didn’t you ask for that pinch when nothing seemed real? I believe you felt the pinch too late, my dear. Wait..

How did we get here?

 

Are you out of colors, yet again? The black, the blue, the green, the grey.

Prick your finger with a needle sharp, and paint your wall with blood so dark..

Wrap it with a chain and lock, not a door this time..

Remember the last knock?

 

Nothing is true, did I tell you not? Not the words spoken, or the purple rock.  God died in all the battles that were fought, the devil crawled out of him, I kid you not..

 

A sweet demise this shall be one, a revival, a reform? Or maybe none..

A cliff you’re standing on, yes, right there..

 

Wait..

How did we get here?

 


 

Inspiration:

 

Fun and Frolic

Standard

As the senior batch is all set to graduate, they spent their last days on campus with frivolous activities and joyous memories. On the 4th to the 6th of April, seniors celebrated Daaku Day, Yo Day and Paindoo Day, respectively.

On ‘Daaku Day’, while some had more fun extorting money out of juniors, others just resorted to giving them hugs to compensate for the hell they have in store for them:

Image

Thaakur, kya scene hai?

 

ImageImage

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1554560_10154000604395788_140091575_n

Image

Infighting in the Daaku Community

Image

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While Daaku Day was a big success in terms of the dakaitis and the fun that followed it, the LSE admin tried its’ hardest to kill our buzz on Paindoo Day. What they didn’t realize was that 4 years in Lahore School of Economics taught us something– Never Give Up. Well, that’s not what it really taught us, but lets go with that for now.

As Daaku Day clashed with a Social Science Conference held at the Lahore School, students decided to very naively mistake the guests at the conference for instructors, and decided to wring some greens out of them too. To which the guests asked in horror, “Yay kala kurtay aap keh school ka uniform hai?”

Apparently, the admin wasn’t very pleased with this debacle, and decided to call off Paindoo day, as a frantic Mr.S was seen chasing dhoti walas and parandha girls around the campus, and kicking them out. ‘Perseverance commands success they say’; The students gathered in the parking lot with their dholkis, and their dulhas, and did a bhangra or two before they proceeded to the park behind Jalal Sons. Bystanders watched in awe as the ‘Paindoo’ crowd carried multiple dulhaas to the park, and danced like it was nobodys business.

Shabba’ boys:

 

Image

Meri aankho mein tumhara pyaar basa hai- Literally

Image

Image

10014575_10152378513470820_1145876526880307165_n

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image

 

10155143_10152378502340820_3937650202271266679_n1948157_10152378499685820_4542515430414482510_n

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image

 

1972434_646212858765485_5413090483174266403_nPaindoo Day proved as a unifying force for the senior batch at LSE. It was filled with an aura of ‘Yay hamara haq hai’, ‘Hum tow dheet hain’, ‘Jao kaam karo apna’ and other shenanigans; It felt good to be united under the same banner for such a…cause (if you can call it that).

Yo Day was a rather mellow one as compared to the rest, as people didn’t quite understand what the difference was between how they dressed up on a normal day for LSE, and the occasion that was ahead of them. Nonetheless, they tried:

 

 

Image

Image

Image

#YOLO #SWAG

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

971205_742512022449250_165201836_n

Image

People of LSE, you will be missed!

 

 

Utopia

Standard

 

Image

Astronomica

 

Faith.

Ever had that feeling, when you’re lying on the hospital bed, and you just know who you want to see when you wake up; That one person who’d make it all better? Have you ever had that moment when you’re treading but you can’t stop yourself from turning around expecting to lay your eyes on something other than your shadow? Have you ever hoped to feel a warm embrace when you’re sitting alone crying?

 

Ever looked into someone’s eyes, wanting to see love? And have you ever led yourself to think that it’s there? Ever come across an episode when you see the knife, but you let your back turn anyway? And have you pretended like your loved one didn’t tear your spine with it? Ever been in a state when you can’t embrace the truth because it’s too harsh? And have you ever knowingly let go of the truth, and embraced the lies because they give you a reason to smile?

 

Ever lived in a time when humanity perished and greed prevailed? Have you ever been a part of the system, even though you hated it? Ever become the person you dreaded the most? Have you ever reaped your soul to have a little power? And have you ever sadistically liked being superior, while crushing your fellows beneath your feet?

 

Ever come across a point in time when you think you’re special to god? Have you ever had the faith to nullify the fact that he’d let you get hurt? Have you ever told yourself that it’s going to be okay, when you know it isn’t? Have you ever lied about how you’re grateful to god, when you really aren’t? Have you ever fashioned a facade, believing that god will give you the answer, when you can’t find it? And have you almost always known that that isn’t going to happen?

 

Faith is a funny thing. A state of intoxication, an eternal beauty where reason has drowned and lies have succumbed. A beautiful denial; A beautiful lie; A beautiful utopia. Faith is what all of us need. A reason to decline, a reason to believe in good when there isn’t any, a reason to smile when there is none. Faith, like utopia, is not wanting to know the truth because the lies are better.

 

 

Epiphany

Standard

“I still live, I still think: I still have to live, for I still have to think”
Friedrich Nietzsche

The Fractal House.

The Fractal House.

 

As I drown myself into the deep abyss of scrutiny, voices break my mind into a puzzle. This enigma, the mind, something hard to put back, speaks to me with perplexity. And as it does, it dismantles from the rest of me. But what is this rest that I speak of? Isn’t my mind me? Isn’t it what elucidates me? Or is it the heart that steals the strength I have, weakening me with every scarlet tear it sheds?What am I made of? Am I made of dreams? Of spirit? Or just bones? Is there something that dwells within me, which holds me together? Or is it just reality that holds me intact, telling me that I am existent. Can it be true that the world we live in, the steps we tread everyday don’t really exist? That the words I’m carving on the wrinkles of this paper are a dream? But a dream of what? And every time this thought assails my mind, I pinch myself to prove that I exist. But does the pain that screams within the wound that I gift myself justify my being?

 

As I narrow my eyes, fixated on the hand of the clock, ticking its way to it’s friends that await it, a notion tingles my mind. Is the hand of the clock forced to move away from one comrade to another? To say a goodbye so quickly for a speedy hello? Or is it that these friends aren’t really friends? The clock, like every being, is ordered by the norms of society to know another to make itself known in order to exist. But who orders us? Who sets these norms for us? Is it the dominant paradigm, or is it a spiritual entity? Who determines that the sun has to burn the earth knowing that some people may not conceal themselves? Who orders the dark to set, knowing that it might camouflage the beast within? Who decides the fact that the bee has to die after it stings its enemy? Who determines these gruesome specifics to a degree where they feel just fine?

 

In a world where every word is a prejudice, where man devours another, where the existence of truth is a lie; Is it wise to have faith in a being that hasn’t been acquainted to your iris? Or is it naïve to think that the pink veins of the flower gave birth to themselves without the help of a supreme individual? And I ask myself; Is man one of God’s blunder’s or is God one of man’s?
But as my hand scribbles its way to its last words, my mind still wandering in a maze of unattainable desires, I sigh as I watch the woman in the water staring back at me with more strength to breathe in the answers than I do

 

 

The Jungle Gym

Standard

By Xenia Rasul

Image

Human vs Animal

It’s a big crowded playground, this world. You have to earn your way through to the top of the jungle gym, and how you earn it? It doesn’t matter. Funny thing this jungle gym. Like a labyrinth that swirls its way through acres of earth, not knowing where it starts, not knowing where it ends- if it does end. How victorious it might feel to get to the top? To step on toes, and pierce through backs, bite into flesh, and lose yourself?

It’s such a shame, this life. To be judged for a sin that’s different from anothers’. To be shunned for doing all the things that the one at the top did, only difference being you failed to climb to where they sit now. Funny how this works, isn’t it? To be hated for not spinning the knife enough, for not being malignant, vile and abhorrent enough.

But it’s not the Ha-Ha funny. It’s the funny that clowns feel at circuses. It’s the sort of funny that makes you want to paint your face into a smile, because you can’t smile otherwise.
It’s that funny.

Clowns. They’re funny too, aren’t they? To take pleasure in the happiness that they instill in the hearts of those that surround them. Paint their faces from one end to another to make you crack a Ha..And 10 tricks later..a Ha again. But what are you laughing at? What do you take pleasure in? The gloom of a clown? The feebleness of a caged animal, while you point your finger towards it? And what good does that make you?

Most of the times, life will play a game of cards with you. And more often than not, you’ll have nothing to play with, just the jokers. But that doesn’t mean that you’ve lost the game. The game is only lost when you give up, and there’s no such thing as giving up. Because though you might have a joker in your hand, but what will your foe do with his kings and queens and hearts and diamonds, when you have all the smiles and happiness, laughter?

So go on. Give up. If you take pride in the throne, and the top of the jungle gym, and the jewels of the crown that they wear.. But toss in your joker, and laugh at them if you believe otherwise. Because it’s a big fat fucking joke this life…

And at times you don’t have to take it as seriously as they do.