Writer_minds

Men shunchaki kimdir bilan kofe ichgim kelyapti. Faqat menga o’xshash kimdir. Men kabi fikrlaydigan, gapiradigan, o’ylaydigan. Buni Berlent “the two common” degan bo’lardi o’z nazariyasida. Yo’q men o’zimni sevmayman, xudo xaqqi bitta o’zimga zo’rg’a chidayman ikkita menga chidolmayman. Gapimni o’rtasida to’xtab qolsam, sababini so’ramaydigan kimdir. Men gapirganda devorga emas, menga qarab turadigan kimdir. Sababsiz kulsam, birga kuladigan kimdir. Hamma narsa va hechnarsa haqida. Koffein tepgandan keyin esa, yurakdagi hamma og’irlik ketib, hiringlashga o’taylik. Shunday o’tiraylik, ruhni charchatmaylik, o’zligimizni yashirmaylik, o’zlikdan chiqib boshqa odam o’ynamaylik. I hate performativity. Performativity ni tushuntirsam bu ro’l oynash emas bu undan ham chuqurroq. Masalan, uyda yolg‘iz bo‘lganingizda siz boshqachasiz ovozingiz, yurishingiz, o‘tirishingiz ham erkinroq. Chunki sizni hech kim kuzatayotgani yo‘q. Ammo tashqariga chiqqaningizda, “insonlar orasidagi siz” paydo bo‘ladi. Xatti-harakatlaringiz, ohangingiz, hattoki yuz ifodalaringiz ham jamiyat kutayotgan narsaga moslashadi. Shu o‘zgarishning o‘zi performativity. Ya’ni, sizning “men” degan obrazingiz aslida har safar sahnaga chiqqandek, turli kontekstlarda qayta-qayta ijro etiladi. Siz doim biror narsa bo‘lib ko‘rinasiz, va shu “ko‘rinish” asta-sekin sizni kimligingizga aylantiradi. Haqiqiy mavjudligi bilan uyidagi o’zligi bilan o’tiradigan kimdir hohlaydi bu ko’ngil.

White Noise Dan DeLillo asarini tugatdim va nihoyat. Huddi “high brow” (yuqori qatlam) ga yozilganday menga juda mukkammal tuyuldi asar. DeLillo aytishicha, “Biz shovqindan qochib jimlikga o’tamiz, lekin jimlikga o’tganimizda ham o‘z shovqinimizni olib kelamiz.” Yani ichki shovqinimizdan hechqachon qutula olmaymiz. Bu zamonaviy odamning fojiasi. Asar 20-asr Amerikaning axborot, reklama, soxta shovqin, tashqi hayotning haddan ortiqligi, oila, etiqod va boshqa bir necha mavzular haqida. Biz doim nimanidir eshitamiz, ko‘ramiz, iste’mol qilamiz lekin ichki hotirjamlik yo‘q. Bu asar bugungi kunga ham aynan O’zbekistondagi bazi holatlarni eslatgani uchun meni etiborimni tortdi. Garchi bizda Media aynan Televideniya 20-asr Amerika televideniyasi kabi kuchli bo’lmasada uni o’rnini egallaydigan bir necha vositalar bor. Ular asosan Telegram, Instagram balki Tik-tok. Asarda eng meni tepgan ibora Murray tomonidan aytiladi. Uni aytishicha eng kam rivojlangan davlatlardagina oila jamiyati saqlanib qola oladi holos. Asardagi oila esa rivojlangan davlatda, yuqori darajada medialashtirilgan (go’yo mediaga chiqmasa u voqea realmasdek) konsumerizm, supermarket yangi Makka bo’lgan davlatda oila nomi shunchaki nomligicha qoladi. Hech kim bir birini eshitmaydi, hamma kochadan eshitgan gaplarini gapiradi, va kimdir kimdirga hiyonat qiladi. Va eng ayanchlisi asar ohirida rohibani aytishicha u shunchaki jamiyatda kimdir Xudoga ishonishini isbotlash uchun mavjud holos, asli rohiba ham Xudoga ishonmaydi. Bitti inson Xudoga ishonarkan demak yer hali tugamadi degani. Va o’sha bitta odam ham pretending ( o’zini shunday ishonganday tutyapti) . Aynan manashunday uzuq yuluq hayot post-modern ning sayoz va qo’rqinchli holati. O’zbekiston masalasiga qaytsak, Instagramda mukammal hayot, to‘ylar, qimmat mashinalar, go‘zallik me’yorlari. Bular odamni sekin, lekin chuqur holda ichdan charchatadi. Har kuni o‘zingni kim bilandir solishtirish, “normal” bo‘lishga urinish bu aynan white noise. Telegram, TikTok, yangiliklar, mish-mishlar, siyosiy shovqin. Har kim nimanidir “biladi”, lekin hech kim ich-ichidan hotirjam emas. Biz har doim eshitamiz, ammo hech narsani to‘liq tushunmaymiz, xuddi DeLillo aytgandek. O‘zbek jamiyatida ko‘p narsa haqida ochiq gapirish qiyin: ruhiy holat, qo‘rquv, yolg‘izlik, sevgi, o‘lim. Shu gapirilmagan, ammo ichda bosim bo‘lib turgan narsalar ham “white noise”ning o‘ziga xos shakli. Ko‘pchilik xorijda ishlaydi yoki o‘qiydi, lekin o‘zini bu yerga ham, u yerga ham to‘la tegishli his qilmaydi. Bu ham bir turdagi “white noise”: manzilsizlik, doimiy psixologik charchoq.Bu narsani men har kuni his qilaman. Ba’zan hech narsa ko‘rgim, eshitgim kelmay qoladi” — bu axborotdan toliqishning tabiiy natijasi. Bu shunchaki charchoq emas, balki ong o‘zini himoya qilishga urinishi. Ko‘p ma’lumot, ko‘p vizual signal, ko‘p soxta ehtiyoj , bular miyani hotirjamlikdan uzoqlashtiradi. Shuning uchun ba’zan hech narsani ko‘rmaslik, eshitmaslik, hatto fikrlamaslikni hohlayman bu, aslida, jimlikka ehtiyoj. Ko’pincha Instagramda kuzatmayman, lenta aylantirmayman, telegramdagi hamma kanal va guruhlarni mute qilganman va deyarli kanallarni o’qimayman. Deyarli guruhlarni haftada bir marta ochaman va javob yozaman. Professorimga o’xshab faqat kulrang kostyum shim kiyib yurishni ham o’ylab ko’rganman. Iloji boricha kamroq o’ylashga, va tanlovlar ichida qolib ketmaslikka harakat qilyapman. Telefonim doim “silent” da turadi. White noise odamlar o‘rtasidagi soxta suhbatlarda ham bor : “Qalaysan?” “Yaxshi.” “Ishlar?” “Zo‘r.” Ammo aslida hech kim o‘zini yo boshqani his qilmaydi. Shuning uchun ishonchli bir inson bilan haqiqatdan gaplashshishga harakat qilaman. Men yozishni sevuvchi odamman. Yozuv eng kuchli davo. Yozish orqali miyamdagi ortiqcha shovqinni tozalab tashlayman. Nima deb o’ylaysiz bizda ham oila jamiyati izdan chiqayotgani rivojlanyotganimizga yoyaylikmi yoki aksincha? Yoki din qachonga borib o’zi ham ishonmaydiganlar qo’lida qoladi?

What about green? I like green. Not just green green but basil green. The green when you look at the veins of your hand or wrist. Green is a pulse. Green is love. Green is wellness, growth, green is the color of paradise. Green is my lost childhood. When I wear green I feel relaxed. Green is saturated with the smell of cut grass. I am green person. Once you love me you can not forget me. A chlorophyll soul. Live green Love green Be green

Agar afa bo'lsam ko'rpani quchib, Uxlaaaaab qolaman. Tushimda, gishlogda, bolaligimda, O'ynab kelaman. Agar ranjitsalar yig 'layman biroz, Va darrov ko'naman, Ayamni eslab. Yoshimni artadi ozg in gollari, Men yig'lay olmayman. Tamom bo'laman! Agar ko'p quonsam chimchilab ko'ring, Quonsam! Dunyodan ketaman. Odamzod milliard yil oldin guvilgan, Uyning eshigiga yetaman. 19.11.21 grace_natnaf

The House Still Smells of Smoke (for my father) Our house breathes smoke, the kind my father left behind not fire, but the quiet gray of his evening cigarette, curled in the air like his voice when he called my name. I am not a smoker may be passive, but when my husband lights one, my lungs lean forward, want to hug that kind shoulder’s of my dad as if the past had a smell, as if love were a residue of breath. He used to sled me down the winter road, a thousand miles of laughter and white. His coat smelled of frost and slim cigarettes. For every good score in my study, he’d press fifty sums into my palm, soft currency of pride and patience. The night he died, I did not scream. My throat refused the world. I lay beside his body, my head against the silence where his heart had been. Even my fear left me. Even my name turned to ash. Buvijon whispered, “Zar kiyimlar kiymagan bolam…” and the room filled with prayer, with shirts with blood and years folded in grief. Now, when I sleep alone, I cling to the quilt as if it were his shoulder, as if warmth could still answer. In my dreams, I am small again, running toward the door, and he is there, rustling the wrapper of sweets, the smoke rising between us, thin, forgiving, endless. “Robbirham huma kama robbayaniy sog’iro.” My tongue still remembers what my heart never forgot.

Koreyslarni qanchalik dinni nazar pisand qilmadligini, jiddiy olmasligini isboti shu kinoda ko’riladi. 5 minutini zo’rg’a ko’roldim. bosh qahramon bir paytlar Kim Tan obrazini qoyillatgani sabab o’zimni rosa majburladim ko’rishga. But kinoda bu kishim endi Iblis ro’lini o’ynabdi. Ha aynan o’sha iblis, taxim qilishdan bosh tortib quvilgan “arab shayton”i ekan. Mahalla qayga qarayapti, bir dindagi obrazni bachkana kinoga qo’yish, yana partner sifatida. Koreani eski dramalari ancha manili bo’lardi. Multfilmlar ham bu dramalardan manoliroq men uchun. Yana bitta narsa nega Korea psix qizlarni romantiklashtiraveradi. Shundog’am yosh avlod bir biridan sovuqlashib boryapti, but yana nima role model. Cringe!

Alaqah “Then We made the sperm-drop into a clinging clot (ʿalaqah)…” — Qur’an 23:14 I began as a عَلَقَة, small mouth to the dark, drinking the pulse of another. The body was not mine, but she let me stay. Between flesh and silence I learned to cling without question, to hold and be held. And I think of how every love begins this way: blind, dependent, a pulse before a thought. Every faith, too, clings to its unseen cord. My first act was to cling, I cling to my mom, I cling to the voices that cut my nerves, to the warmth that withdraws, to the thought that love is a kind of hunger. to the unseen hand of God that turns morning over, to the invisible thread of breath, to the trembling light that keeps me human. I am never done with dependence, inevitable fate. When i walk away from clinging. I feel the pull at the root of my spine, as if the umbilical was never cut. Still remembering the wall I once called home. And I want to go back, as petals ingrow toward the stem. My life is art of remaining , a leech But I am helpless, because *Annushka has spilled the oil.*¹ Footnote: Reference to Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, where the phrase “Annushka has already spilled the oil” symbolizes the inevitability of fate — the idea that certain events, once set in motion, cannot be undone. Because the main characters slipped on the oil which is split by Annushka and fall under a train that his head was cut off. Nafisa Abdusattarova

Islomni go’zalligini qarang- ayol turmush o’rtog’ining familiyasiga o’tishi shart emas, hohlasa oilasining nomida qolishi mumkin, uning chunki o’z onasi va otasi bor boshqa.

-29 ga kirib nimani o’rganding? - do’stim deb o’ylaganlarim begona, begona deb o’ylaganlarim do’stim ekanligini. - “people pleaser” bo’lmaslikni. - ahmoq insonlarni o’zini taftish qilmasligini, intelektlar esa ko’p o’ylanib, chekada qolib ketishini. - tashqi ko’rinish muhimligini - pulga o’ch insonlardan uzoqroq yurishni. - o’ylashni to’xtatishni(yoshim uchun o’ylash endi kech, random acting qilish vaqti keldi) - tez reaksiya bildirmaslikni - so’zlarga emas, harakatlarga etibor berish kerakligini - xonadagi eng ahmoq insondek ko’rinish kerakligini - o’zimni isbotlamaslikni, va eng ahmoq fikrni ham “sen haqsan” deyishni o’rganishlik - xarakter bu hayot - bir yilda juda ko’p narsaga erishish mumkinu lekin hammasini orqaga surganim yo qo’rqoqligim uchun qo’ldan boy berganligimni - notog’ri insonlarni hayotimdan ertaroq kesim tashlamaganim (xato) - qayerga borsam bu yerga loyiq emasman deb o’zimga past baho berganim (xato) - o’zimdan ko’ra boshqa insonlarni ko’p sevganim(xato) - hamma kitob o’qiydigan insonlar “yaxshi inson” deb o’ylaganim. ……… bu haqida you tube ochib gapirishim kerak, lekin studio va mantaj uchun vaqtim bo’lmaydi.

O’zligimni topa olmayapman….. bu savol 49 yoshli ayoldan keldi. Expert bo’lmasamda buni ignore qilgim kelmadi. Men uchun o’zlikni topish tushunchasi juda mavhum. “O’zlik” degan cho’qqi yo’q, oynaga qarang turibsiz! Men “becoming” (bo’lish) va “authenticity” yani o’zlikni rivojlantirishga ishonaman. Yani men qandaydir talant, qandaydir ruh qadaydir qalb bilan tug’ulganaman, buni o’zgartira olmayman, va aynan shuning uchun berilgan narsanigina rivojlantirishga fokus qarataman, yiqilsam tan olaman. Hechqachon do’stim qo’shiqchi bo’lgani uchun qo’shichi bo’lishni, dizayner bo’lgani uchun rasm chizishni sinab ko’rmayman chunki bilaman u qobiliyat menda yo’q. Moliyaviy tarafdan ham shunday. Kimnidir 10 metrlik tug’ulgan kun to’rtini ko’rib qayg’uga botmayman, kantrolimdan chekadagi narsaga achinmayman. Va men o’zligimni nishonlayman. Musobaqa o’ynamayman hechkim bilan. Shu qadar o’zimga yoqaman. Self negative talk juda ko’p qilaman, o’zimni ko’p ayblayman, kechgacha o’zimni yomon ko’rishim mumkin, lekin o’zimni boshqaga solishtirib energiyamni tugatmayman. O’zlik, shaxsiyat o’zgaruvchan narsa har 5 yilda boshqa insonga aylanasiz, yo’q deganda fikrlash va dunyoqarashingiz o’zgaradi. Bu degani mukkammal o’zlik degan cho’qqi yo’q, hozir shu tanangiz shu aqlingiz, shu chiroyingiz, shu ovozingiz o’zlik, shuni rivojlantiring. Taqqoslamang, sizning va uning qoni boshqa, hujayrasi boshqa hamma hammasi boshqa. Gapirishga ustamisiz, gapiring, yozishga ustamisiz yozing, boshqarishga ustamisiz boshqaring, quruvchilikda zo’rmisiz, quring . Va farzandingiz o’rgatadigan eng kerak darsingiz, o’zini qabul qilishni o’rgatish. Qorami qoraligini sevdiring, sariqmi sariqligini sevdiring.

Qizla yugitlarni kelishganakan deb tegib ketavermanglar gen suv emas, yo sizlar tug’moqchimasmiz. Tanasiga etibor bermang miyasiga etibor bering agar tupoy bola tug’moqchi bo’lmasangiz. Yigitlarga ham shu maslahat. Asli faqat chiroyiga qarab qiz tanlaydiganlarga hayron qolaman. Undan battari bor pismiq qizlar yoqadiganla bor pismiq deganda qanaqa pismiq passiv, come on, bolalarizni ham shunaqa lappashang osilgan bo’lishini hohlaydimi shunda. Odob bilan passivlikni farqi bor. Odob bilan dovdirlikni farqi bor. Odob bilan qo’rqoqlikni farqi bor. Tarbiyaga juda ko’p narsa bog’liq ekan ,lekin kuzatishlarim natijasida shuni sezdimki, bola ota onani qobiliyatidan ortib uzoqqa bormaydi. Passivni bolasi passiv aktivni bolasi aktiv bo’ladi dehqoncha tushuntirganda. Miyasini ishlashiga etibor bering iltimos , qaytidir qanaqa qimirlashiga emas.

Salom Salom Bobur shox ko’cha Bobur shox ko’cha Hozirmi? Ha. Sovuq dush; nonushta; oyna; tish pasta; alg’ov dalg’ov hissiyotlar; Telefon; habarlar yo’q; telefonni tekshirish; xabarlar yo’q; telefonni tekshirish; Profilni tekshirish; online emas; o’ylanish; bir soat; 4 soat; Yarim tun; telefonni tekshirish; profilni tekshirish; Bloklangan.

Tungi 3 oshhona. 2005 -yillar. Qishlog’imda qalin quyosh nuri va shudring. Men juda kichik, quyosh olgan, ayniqsa sariq odam quyoshdan qoraysa juda kulgili ko’rinadi, huddi kuyib ketgan sariq tukli shaftoliday. Ha, men hechkimni hotirasida oppoq sariq sochli qizaloq bo’lib qolmaganman. Buvimni juda katta sholipoyasi bo’lardi. Uyerga tushib o’zimcha sholi ekardim. Hatto sigirim ham bo’lgan lekin 1 oyda sotilib ketgan chunki meni shunday quvlatganki lozimimga qo’ytikon yopishib to’rt tomonidan yirtilib, oyoqlarim g’o’zapoya ichida shilinib ketgani uchun o’sha kuni katta aza ochganman. Otam juda mehribon inson edi u sigirni huddi menga mushuk olib berganday olib bergan huddi men u bilan o’ynashim kerak. Lekin yaxshi chiqishib ketolmaganmiz. U paytlar quyosh katta bo’lardi, uyimiz yonidagi Momohon ariq ham vahimali ko’rinardi ko’zimga, lekin hozir.. hamma narsa mayda va manisiz. Shaharda katta bo’lganlarga achinaman ular hayotni, asfalt va svetafordan iborat deb o’ylashadi. Ular o’tlarni ismini bilishadi holos, hididan behabar. Yalangoyoq qumda yurishni zavqini bilishmaydi, endi 30 da yalangoyoq yurishnida zavqi yo’q, kech endi. Mana oshhonam, rangbarang kerak, keraksiz narsa bilan to’la. Kapitalizm. Yolg’izlik. Xrizantema. Gulim bilan o’tiribman. Arzon va xidsiz. Eski katta kechgacha botmaydigan uzoq turadigan quyoshimni sog’indim.

😂 LOL

Where do I run? Knock on my door, like knock on my head. Slipped, slid, skipped, creaked. Small me, with a sheltered hand Said- “Let’s go home.” -Why is that coffee in your hand, we used to love tea, - First it is coffee that shakes my will, Than it is pill that makes me still I keep choosing what will kill. You wake up by the river that knows you but me, But me, my names mispronounced by those trees of three. I envy those trees by our house untouched by choice or plan They never learned what it means to be an immigrant man. I should have loved the boy next door, So I could keep my childhood floor. But I loved a voice from farther lands, And left with trembling, ringed hands. Since then I’ve wandered, never still Yes, let’s go home— I’ve missed my sand, my blood, my bone. I’ve missed my father beneath the stone, And the street where no roots had grown. And I missed my immigrant mom! Immigrant mom? God, where do I run, if she’s not home, and he is gone? Ok, I will not have a home Next time they asked me where i am from, I’ll say; from underground Who write notes about home that newer own. Nafisa Abdusattarova

“Frankenshteyn” ning menga o’rgatgan eng katta darsini men Quronda ham ko’rganman; ya’ni insonning taqdiri yozilganligini!