surmayah
she/her ▪︎ my mind; little organization
177 posts
Latest Posts by surmayah
There isn't any scent in this world as comforting as the scent of a mother's duppata.
Okay here are some facts I think everyone needs to know about Modi's relationship with the occupation of Kashmir.
-In June/July of 2019, just a few months after Modi took office for his 2nd term he sent ~10,000 soldiers into Kashmir.
-Shirtly after he suspends telecoms/internet and implements a stringent curfew. He also begins arresting political leaders and HRAs. He begins jailing journalist in the dark (no internet made that easy)
-That August he revokes article 370 and 35a which removed Kashmir's special status (which basically means they took awa their statehood and nullified their constitution) and allowed non-Kashmiris to begin purchasing land in the region.
-Under Modi, Kashmir has become the most militarized zone in the world. Not being hyperbolic here. There are some areas of Kashmir where soldiers outnumber civilians.
Basically Modi has spent the last decade turning Kashmir into an open air prison while laying the groundwork for demographic change. Indian tourism in the area has been on a MASSIVE incline. That's why you're seeing messaging from India calling Kashmir "The Switzerland of India" and why tourists were attacked.
If this all sounds familiar that's because Modi is pulling from Netanyahu's playbook. Down to framing his colonization as a security issue. There's a reason he looks up to him.
Modi is a RSS Hindu nationalist that has been heavily inspired by European fascist movements.
You should know all of these facts as you navigate a lot of disinformation that's gonna come at you.
I think it's diabolical that there is still a debate about trans women and their gender identity.
They cannot be erased from history and no matter what any court says, they will always be real women.
Hello,
I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿
I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏
💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship.
Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨
@aboodfmly
PLEASE SHARE
I love vacillator but seriously guys if you love me please don't keep it to yourself I'm a bit insecure and I'd much rather you say you love me instead of making me guess it would really mean a lot thanks guys
MAGDALENE BRIDE
There’s guilt that I retch onto the floor, and my rotting flesh stains the chapel, seeping into the cracks more than any of my prayers ever could. I gnaw at my own ribs, scraping them to pieces. The priest has remnants of me defiling his mouth, and the stoic eyes gaping at me from the pews—painted the same white as the walls, which have long forsaken me—don’t betray their dignity. Their postures are perfect, their suits well-pressed, and their expressions unyielding. The one awaited does not show up; he has become a prayer. Instead, he turns the bend and smiles—a smile that hints at quiet encouragement.
My body hits the floor, my knees bleeding—applauses are what reverberate. The space reeks of jasmine and myrrh, and the cold bite of metal from the cross stings my skin. The communion wafers lie long forgotten, and the sacramental wine dulls with the passage of time.I witness the priest standing a few feet away, his hands trembling with hunger."Young girls have corruption in their minds," he says. The horror of Jesus, hanging limply from the crucifix, his hands bleeding where they’ve been nailed and his feet rupturing flesh, gapes at me with open eyes full of helplessness and dread. A rag—grey with time, stained with his blood that is infected with rejection—hangs at his pelvis. The wooden framework encasing his heart of impotence and throat of meekness withers and cracks in the sun, but the dews remain cold. The congregation jitters and jeers, repulses and admires, devours and purges—they merely talk.
The stained-glass windows have witnessed men and women alike, with the eyes of its saints gouged out and their presence bleached by the sun. The children sink their nails into my skin as they taunt with their smiles, the candles serving them, delighting in the play they call their game. They like their toy. The priest prays at my hips, the altar cold and unforgiving against my back. He probes and digs at my flesh, tearing at it, splitting the skin—it does not tear cleanly. It clings because it lies. It pretends to be whole. The fibers, caught in clumps, wrap around his fingers, the blood soaking into his robes. But the sinews keep winding around his nails as he sinks deeper into the pulp. I witness my gaze burdening Jesus; he trembles, but his feet remain heavy with inaction, his body slack—limp, listless, beneath the weight of his own faithless mercy. It starts slow—a tear—but then my skin stretches and squelches. The audience gasps and gapes, the children laugh, Jesus suffers the terror of ridicule, and the rosary beads are made ever more maroon with blood spooling onto them.
"The story of Layla and Majnun"
Perhaps the moon was his accomplice, veiling itself behind the mist, mocking her patience, a conspirator in her longing. She waits—o, she does. The night stretches like dark, kohl-lined eyes, with barely any stars, offering no mercy, no light to trace her beloved's face.
The wind weaves through the foliage, whispering and conversing with the gnarled branches of the trees, appearing dark against the velvety night sky, as if sighing with pity at her quiet grief and yearning. Her hands trembled, and her heart paced; the scent of the roses was too harsh and bitter, offering no comfort. The night air stings, and the earth beneath, which clings to her feet, is cold and unyielding, much like the passage of time that refuses to turn in her favor.
He did not show up to loosen the braids of her dark raven hair, the ones in whose knots a silent prayer was whispered. The white jasmines in her tresses fluttered ever so slightly, veiled beneath the golden fabric, which lifted with the wind, but there was no hand to steady it.
She ached for a glimpse of him, a stolen moment to etch in her memory, sweet nothings to remember by heart, and for those silent vigils when he gazed upon the moon, and she would watch him.
She cast off her bangles, the pearls scattering across the floor like forsaken stars, their glimmer and beauty wasted on a night with no beloved.
The hour had betrayed her, the moon had turned its face, and grief, like the night, stretched infinite, offering neither solace nor an end to the waiting.
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #329 )✅️
‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸I am
ahmad from Gaza. I am 26 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to preserve his family. 🇵🇸💔💔
We try to live under miserable conditions in tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis, south of Gaza. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in Gaza. No food, no medicine, no clean drinking water, oppression, helplessness, psychological pressures, doubts, and daily trauma due to the loss of loved ones. In Gaza, it's not just hunger, disease and fear; Rather, it means actual death.
With a heart weighed down by sorrow, I reach out to you, hoping that kindness and humanity still shine in this world. My family and I have lost everything—the home that once sheltered us, the walls that echoed with laughter, the warmth and security that every human deserves. The relentless attacks on Gaza have turned our lives into a daily fight for survival. What was once a place of comfort and love is now nothing but rubble, and we are left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a fragile tent that barely stands against the bitter cold.
Now, our days and nights are consumed by hardship. The icy wind pierces through the thin fabric of our tent, leaving us shivering, with no escape from the freezing temperatures. Food is scarce, clean water is hard to find, and the most basic necessities have become luxuries beyond our reach. Every day, we struggle—not just to live, but to preserve the dignity that war tries to strip away.
Amid this suffering, a new life was brought into the world—my brother’s daughter, an innocent soul who took her first breath in a tent instead of a warm home, her tiny body wrapped in whatever scraps of fabric we could find. She was born not into joy, but into loss, into hunger, into the unforgiving reality of war. And as we watch her, so fragile and pure, our hearts break knowing that we cannot give her the comfort and security she deserves and we cannot provide enough milk, diapers, medicines, and vitamins for her😭😭😭😭💔💔💔
I do not ask for much—just a little help to keep us going through these unimaginable times. A warm blanket to protect us from the cold, food to fill our empty stomachs, or even simply sharing our story so that others may hear our cries for help. Every small act of kindness can make a difference. 💔🍉🇵🇸😭
Your generosity has the power to bring warmth to our freezing nights, hope to our despair, and life to those struggling to survive. May the kindness you extend be returned to you a hundredfold.
Donation link⬇️⬇️
i made an alt where i ramble even more thank you very much
unfortunately, to my parents’ disapproval, the one thing i truly dream of is having a home. i know i am supposed to dream big and “shatter the glass ceiling," and i do, but really, this is as close to my heart. i don't imagine the number of rooms and how big or small the house is, but i do dream about the sunlight coming through the windows, the quiet summer afternoons in the courtyard, the plants and flowers that are to be grown, along with the groceries to be bought. i dream of a gentle life with my beloved, where there will be no slamming of doors and neither of us will go to sleep with quiet resentment in our hearts that grows every day. i'll be able to hear the laughter of the children playing down the street, reverberating off the walls, and tell them stories—from the undying devotion between two lovers to the ventures of the fellow knight—while drinking tea on which too much money was spent for sugar, which leaves ring marks on the kitchen table. i dream of the books that are to be read, which will adorn every shelf and corner, and the paintings that are to be hung.
My loved ones are always welcome, irrespective of whether they want company, help, or words of kindness during trying times. i dream of the mehfils that are to be held, the ghazals that will be sung, and the shayeris that are to be recited. there will be winter nights spent huddled around the fire with my friends, where the courtyard will witness us dreaming aloud and revisiting old jokes. there'll be new recipes i'll learn, cupcakes i will bake, a favorite song i'll hum, and movies i'll watch. after all, some dreams are not about leaving legacies or achieving success in boardrooms; they do not call for applause, shine under spotlights, or get remembered in the pages of history. some of mine are more fragile, steadier—ones that have the comfort of a voice that calls for dinner, the creak of familiar wooden floors, the smell of fresh bread and candles of jasmine, with the last note of the serenade lingering in the air.
I am Niha Mahmoud. I live in Gaza, which has been completely destroyed, specifically in Rafah. I was displaced to the city of Khan Yunis. I am 19 years old. My life and future have been destroyed, and my studies have stopped. 💔
I was studying at Al-Quds Open University, Faculty of Business Administration. 🇵🇸I am seriously thinking of leaving Gaza to complete my education and build my future, but I will not be able to secure the travel expenses and the expenses of studying abroad. My dear sympathetic friends all over the world, with your generous donation, even if it is small, it can save my future. 🇵🇸💔
My future and education may be lost outside Gaza. My regards and greetings to you.
I love when the sky is bisexual like yes
PLEASE SPREAD AND HELP!
Ghada's campaign on GoFundMe has had it's transfers paused without cause. She relies greatly on donations to survive and now she is in desperate need of support. These are her words. Please donate and share.
Hello, I'm Ghada Mhasen, 20 years old, mother of a child born in war. She married shortly before the war and became pregnant a month before the war. The war came and killed my joy with my pregnancy and marriage, as we were forced to leave our house and flee. I left my belongings and things behind. I couldn't take anything. It was a difficult period with great difficulty. We found a tent to shelter my husband and me, because we had nothing. No one helped us. We tried to manage our affairs with the simplest and least things, but we also had to flee again, as we fled to Rafah. I heard the news of my house bombing and it was shocking news for me because it was all we had. My condition deteriorated and I was afraid for my unborn baby. Time passed and we tried to manage our affairs, but we almost died of hunger and almost lost my child, but thank God he remained fine. We continued to be displaced and our condition worsened. My husband and I were very tired until we visited Khan Yunis for the last time. It's time for me to have children and be born in a tent, a contaminated tent. There was no medical supplies. My condition was critical, but thanks to God, my child and I survived. Now I can't provide for his basic needs. We put below zero. I have now resorted to creating a Chuffed account to ask for help from you. Please help me, please. We need a tent to accommodate us from the winter and the needs of my child. We need food and drink. We need medicine. My husband worked hard to provide the simplest things for us, but while he was working, a wall fell on him and broke his foot. Now there's no way to help us live except for this donation link. Please save us. Please, every donation is important. It would have saved us from war, hunger and cold. We are not in one war. We are in three wars: the war of Zionism, the war of hunger and the war of cold. I ask you to save us. Every donation, up to $20, will save us from these wars. I am now living in a cloth that covers four sides without a roof. If winter really comes, we will die. Save us. Thank God, now after the end of the war, we are still living a very difficult life. I still can't provide for my child's needs or provide any of our needs from eating and drinking, even water with difficulty, we bring it. We always wait for any help to come to us, but unfortunately, my child does not come, he is exposed to a lot of infections because of the bad Pampers that we use for. I just want to provide what is necessary. I want to ensure a good life for him most of the time. It's rainy, uninhabitable tent. We always sink. I hope you to help us if in $50, please sympathize with us and my child. I trust you and thank you.
Help a Family in Need
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.
Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.
As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.
In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.
Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.
For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.
Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.
Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.
Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.
Adam
✅ Vetted by Association: @bilal-salah0
Donate & share: Donation Link
Remember.
Happy International Women's day y'all
liking people who live in the same city as you is so weird like i passed the flyover that connects our homes you made fun of me for not knowing it and now i do and you probably live here somewhere and i want to click a picture and send it to you and be like look!!! it's the colorful cable bridge near your house!!!! but i can't. because we don't fucking talk anymore 😭
MUTUAL AID
I'm doing all I can to escape my abusive home, because my mental and physical health has been at an all time low since December. If my work has ever meant anything to you, please consider donating to a disabled trans queer Bengali butch, if you are able to. I don't really want to talk about my personal life right now, because I'm sick of talking about it honestly and it's been horrific since 2023, but I would like a bit of help very much now, instead of just my shitposts and moodboards blowing up.
my trans poetry book collection
my trans sapphic Bengali story from ko-fi
If Indians have problem with Payp*l, you can donate on gpay: sritamasen1905@oksbi
the grief of loving too much is heavy but it is better than the regret of not trying at all
‼️Emergency please don't skip‼️
🇵🇸 save family lost their home ,dreams and everything in Gaza 🇵🇸
This is my home before the war and after the war how it became💔💔💔
Before: After:
We have been through many wars before, but this war was not like the ones before it. Our lives were turned upside down. We became displaced from one place to another. We are the Anas family, residents of northern Gaza, specifically in the Shujaiya area. In the first week of the war, we fled our home because everyone considered our home to be in a dangerous area. We moved to the Rimal area, specifically in the middle of Gaza. There, we received the news that our home, which contained all our beautiful memories, was bombed. Suddenly, it was gone!!! Just thinking that your home, which you worked hard on and built from scratch and took a lot of your life, was gone in less than a second ! After a while, we left the sands to the Al-Zawaida area because of the heavy shelling. We stayed there for about two weeks, and then the terrorist army asked us to go to Rafah. We actually fled for the fourth time to Rafah and stayed there for two months, some of the most difficult days of our lives, as there was no way or means to live a normal life. 😔😔 After that, because of the invasion of Rafah, we moved to Deir al-Balah. Now, we are in very difficult and oppressive circumstances.
We are asking you with all shame to support and stand by us in these difficult circumstances that everyone knows because we lost our home, our work and any stable source of income. Thank you all.
🔗 🔗 Gofundme link for donations 👇👇👇👇🔗 🔗
Please, we are in dire need of you and your support. If you cannot donate, you can share☹️❤️🥹
Even $5 will make a big difference and save us!
Verified by : @nabulsi
A marvelous spiritual state and mystical experience befell this annihilated one, which cannot rightly be written. From extreme longing I became astonished, and I do not know what I said or did.
— Princess Jahanara, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, (2003)
21 January, 1926 The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1924-1941)
it’s so true that the greatest weapon against nihilism and existential despair is to find joy in the mundane and never stop chasing after love
they should invent a yearning for love that is tolerable btw
Radio Romance by Mashrou' Leila
Photo by George Semerdjian
if you're feeling powerless right now—and god knows I am—here's a reminder you can donate to the National Network of Abortion Funds, the Trans Law Center, Gaza Soup Kitchen, the Palestine Children's Relief Fund, and hundreds of other charities that will work to mitigate the damage that has been and will continue to be inflicted
life continues. we still have the capacity to do good, important work. that matters
With the war behind us, the focus is now on removing the rubble and rebuilding a home where the family can come together again. Your assistance and encouragement are invaluable. Thank you for standing with us!
please don't, really, it was our duty to do this, I'm glad our efforts meant something
the only thing they're bothered about is lining their pockets and counting their money!!
The orange gang's silence about the kumbh mela disasters reveals their hypocrisy more than anything else does. For something that so deeply concerns the religion that they claim to care about, you would think they would hold the party that claims to work in their interests more accountable? But they're not and everyone knows why that is - they never cared about hindus and hinduism to begin with. All that jazz was and always has been a thinly veiled cover for their hatred of Muslims.
Yet, you completely missed my point. Your stance on this was flawed right from the beginning itself, which I pointed out. It does not fulfill one of the most important aspect of Colonialism. Without a doubt, there have been hostilities and atrocities against hindus in this period, but it does not equal to colonialism. I hope one day you unlearn the hate you've nurtured.
Not another post whining about why “mUgHaLs WeRe nOt cOlOnizErs” like girl, they were literally foreign invaders who forced you to speak their language, broke your temples, tried eradicating your culture and collected zizya taxes motivated by religious bigotry in hopes of forcing your people to convert! At least have some shame and consideration for your ancestors.
I really don't understand how this is "hinduphobia", I have not demeaned anyone. I've grown up in a "brahmin" Hindu household. In addition, never did I once compare and came to the conclusion that one is worse than the other.
Yes, muslim rulers have destroyed temples, and this is a well-documented aspect of medieval Indian history though temple destruction was not unique to any one religion or dynasty; it was often a political tool used by rulers across faiths to assert dominance, punish rivals, or consolidate power.
Hindu rulers were no strangers to the art of destruction when it served their purposes. The Cholas, those celebrated patrons of grandeur, happily razed Chalukyan temples and Buddhist viharas in Sri Lanka when dominance was on the menu. King Harsha of Kashmir, ever the pragmatist, treated temples as personal banks, stripping them bare to fund his ambitions—because why let piety stand in the way of power? The Marathas, often painted as paragons of Hindu virtue, didn’t hesitate to target rival temples in Karnataka, proving that even the devout have a flair for hypocrisy. And the Vijayanagara Empire, while busy building architectural marvels, found time to demolish mosques during their wars with the Bahmani Sultanate.
Not another post whining about why “mUgHaLs WeRe nOt cOlOnizErs” like girl, they were literally foreign invaders who forced you to speak their language, broke your temples, tried eradicating your culture and collected zizya taxes motivated by religious bigotry in hopes of forcing your people to convert! At least have some shame and consideration for your ancestors.