NOW SEEN IN PRINT
Must Be Kismet Magazine 2018
Photography - Divine Method Photo
​

NOW 
Radiating
into my
​30s

​StageTWO,
w i s d o m

​As I revolve around the sun for another chapter, I carry my weight with these words:

a letter to myself..​
'Today the colours turn a tone closer to being a shade. My vows to the great accomplishments in
life, have shortened their distance in time. My culture-clock has brought waves of challenges that I can no longer use education as an excuse for an extension. I now belong to the 30 and above class on the surveys and grants are available to me for my best words and no longer my age. Listening to my voice is like listening to a broken cassette filled with Hope that an opportunity to be 20 again will arise. Marriage is now a phase I want to pass so I can officially live my life without boundaries. Trust is an exemplary token of appreciation I hold dearly.

​Turning 30 today just got me in a hurry. Living life through my creations has justified that age really is like fine cheddar. The best portion of your life is not determined by your age but by your accomplishments. 

​
StageFIVE,
liberat-ion

As every passing moment goes by, I allow another string on my heart to play a melody. 
A tune I connect with the earth that rattled my mother's doors as I entered her womb. 
The soil on the soles of my feet are from the warmer climates of the East where turmeric and sandalwood create a fine base for wisdom and social standards. 
My roots still watered from the weight of hair in oils scented with hibiscus and mustard seeds.

My spine overlooking the sea towards the West. With eyes as sharp as the eagle's flight. My age is marked with entitlements to knowing the finest silks and hand cut glass. Carvings of sand and wood cut creases in between the cushion of my toes as I traveled into the storms of the unknown. 

Inferior to this land, I am a woman with an adventure pierced into my back. The adornments I wear are now my reflections and experiences. I forever travel light with trunks filled with certainty and liberation.

​
These are words from me to you to guide you in the awareness of yourself. The journey that must take place by stepping out your front door. The gaze through your windows will only take you so far, so if this written aids you in your adventure than please write it on your heart. Liberation is a part of who we are; humanity. We live to seek for the love of ourselves in others and when patience grows weak, we succumb to the voice of our surroundings. Be aware of your spirit and acknowledge its worth for she will live infinitely when she hears your voice.

Credits:

Art Direction & Styling/Story: Breath of Henna
Wardrobe: Chandan Fashion
Photography: Divine Method Photo
MUA: Beauty by Bu
Jewelry: RJS Company
Flowers: Your Occassion Flowers
Rugs: Kasra Persian Rugs
Location: Lovt Studios
Publication: Must Be Kismet 

Love 
    & 
Tea

Photography: Monika Mistry

 
COME into the garden, Maud,
  For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
  I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,        5
  And the musk of the rose is blown.
 
For a breeze of morning moves,
  And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
  On a bed of daffodil sky,        10
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
  To faint in his light, and to die.
 
All night have the roses heard
  The flute, violin, bassoon;
All night has the casement jessamine stirr’d        15
  To the dancers dancing in tune;
Till silence fell with the waking bird,
  And a hush with the setting moon.
 
I said to the lily, “There is but one
  With whom she has heart to be gay.        20
When will the dancers leave her alone?
  She is weary of dance and play.”
Now half to the setting moon are gone,
  And half to the rising day;
Low on the sand and loud on the stone        25
  The last wheel echoes away.
 
I said to the rose, “The brief night goes
  In babble and revel and wine.
O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,
  For one that will never be thine?        30
But mine, but mine,” I sware to the rose,
  “For ever and ever, mine.”
 
And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
  As the music clash’d in the hall:
And long by the garden lake I stood,        35
  For I heard your rivulet fall
From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
  Our wood, that is dearer than all;
 
From the meadow your walks have left so sweet
  That whenever a March-wind sighs        40
He sets the jewel-print of your feet
  In violets blue as your eyes,
To the woody hollows in which we meet
  And the valleys of Paradise.
 
The slender acacia would not shake        45
  One long milk-bloom on the tree;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake
  As the pimpernel doz’d on the lea;
But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
  Knowing your promise to me;        50
The lilies and roses were all awake,
  They sigh’d for the dawn and thee.
 
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
  Come hither, the dances are done,
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,        55
  Queen lily and rose in one;
Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,
  To the flowers, and be their sun.
 
There has fallen a splendid tear
  From the passion-flower at the gate.        60
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
  She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, “She is near, she is near;”
  And the white rose weeps, “She is late;”
The larkspur listens, “I hear, I hear;”        65
  And the lily whispers, “I wait.”
 
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
  Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
  Were it earth in an earthy bed;        70
My dust would hear her and beat,
  Had I lain for a century dead;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
  And blossom in purple and red.