MACHAR VIBES

2007-02-03T20:50:00.000+05:00

Just thought I'd post here that I no longer post here..hehe. I mean, just incase there are some of the old people who still visit this page once in a blue moon and wonder where I've vanished, I felt like leaving my new blog's address here; please do come visit there! (yeah, a li'l advertisement never hurts, right?!) And why did I change this blog? That's a long, complicated and rather technical explanation which I'd rather not delve into for fear of boring away anyone who IS being nice enough to read this post right now :)

So anyway, to cut a long story short...my blog is now at http://macharvibes.spaces.live.com/

Just a little of that human touch.

2006-12-05T21:57:00.001+05:00

As the car drove through the night, she rolled down her window despite the chill, and stuck her head outside. It was another Lahore winter night - misty and yellow. She probably unconsciously thought that the cold breeze would dry the tears that silently and stubbornly escaped the corners of her closed eyes and snaked their way down her face; it didn't. It froze them on her cheeks though, leaving behind their wet and slightly sticky streaks. The biting wind numbed her cheeks and nose, and even her hands and torso eventually, but it was unable to penetrate deep enough to freeze her soul. It remained unbearably heavy. And weary. All she longed for was someone - anyone - by her side... to hold her hand in silence and let her cry until she needed to. The little dream, as simple as it was, was just as far-fetched and unreachable as the most fantastic illusion. She knew that too. She'd already spent the evening sitting at a lone table, pretending to stare at the papers in front of her while the printed words endlessly swam before her eyes - so near and yet so undeniably unapproachable. Every now and then she'd unwittingly glance up at the people entering and leaving. There was no particular face she longed for. Just a friend. Many people passed her there, many not noticing her presence but some eyes paused upon her momentarily. Many of them didn't know her but some did. All of them saw the silent tears glistening in those eyes and the wet lashes, and the slight tremble of the lips. And all of them walked on, unconcerned and untouched...not one of them stopped, even for a few meaningless seconds. Not one. None of them.

They say there's no feeling in the world worse than being lonely. There is. She knows better. She is lonely... but the world never lets her forget....

Ain't no mercy on the streets of this town
Ain't no bread from heavenly skies
Ain't nobody drawing wine from this blood
Its just you and me tonight
Tell me, in a world without pity
Do you think what I'm asking's too much
I just want something to hold on to
And a little of that human touch
Just a little of that human touch
(from Human Touch, by Bruce Springsteen.)

2006-11-22T04:09:00.000+05:00

And so it is...

It's odd that I make blogposts in my head almost every day...every other day, at least. Usually at night...when I'm brushing my teeth or looking for books that I might need to take with me the next morning - stuff like that. And the weirder part is that they come out so coherent and easy; the words just flow and, believe it or not, most of the time they're even quite amusing! And then, once I'm done with my "post" in a few minutes, I always think that I should sit down, there n' then, and type it all out. And somehow, I never do. And then, days later, when I sit down to actually write on my blog, I can't come up with anything to say; not even anything about the most menial, ordinary day-to-day stuff that's been going on lately. Maybe it's time to come up with an audio blog or something, eh? :)

Anyway, life's been a whirlwind lately...fact is, lately seems more like foreverrrr, but I've been told that it's only been a maximum of 10 weeks. 10 weeks of one quarter, that is. But it's been tough - honestly. The word "hectic" seems to have found so many new dimensions that I think I'm beginning to lose count of them now! I can't wait for it all to be over...just one day at a time, I keep on repeating to myself. And when even that sounds like too much to bear, I break it down into little 2 or 3-hour chunks and keep telling myself that the little chunk is all I need to think about and get through, 'cause the rest isn't a concern at that time. Sometimes, it works and I can get my mind to start behaving itself for long enough to get through the next hour or two, depending on whatever the specific time or task is. But, more often than not, it's just a stupid facade that I sometimes wonder why I'm putting up. I mean, how stupid is the very concept of trying to fool your ownself over something that you don't believe in? Isn't that one of the most superficial things a person can even think of doing?

And I don't mean only in times like I've mentioned...I mean it for so many other things. Every other little thing in life counts too. Why do we all try to lie to ourselves, though? I wonder sometimes. I really do. And, obviously, I don't know. If I did, I'd probably be rich n' famous by now..haha. I mean, what's there to gain from trying to hide the truth from yourself? Does it help to ease the pain? Does it make the hurt go away? Or does it even help by making one eventually believe the lie if it's repeated often enough and vehemently enough? I really, really doubt it. You can cast aside your fears, but you never really let go of them...you're just burying them deep, deep within...so deep that you think they're gone, they don't exist anymore. But it's all an illusion. Because they're still there. Buried so deep into the abyss of your very soul that you can't even feel their presence ordinarily. But they're still there. And they will surface again. Sooner than you ever thought, sooner than you ever wanted. So much sooner. And they leave you crushed and confused - so much worse than before. So much more confused and deluded....and then, you start it all over again. The same vicious cycle. Lies. Different ones, same purpose. Fabricated again. Told again. Still to your own self. Forced belief, forced acceptance...forced so viciously and deperately that it's hard to realise that it's all futile. And yet, we go on. Lying to ourselves...living in denial...knowing what we're doing and still doing it....

The other day, someone commented in a conversation that "in the end it's really how you think about it yourself that really counts.. beause it's only you who can convince yourself." That made me say that it might be true but then agian, it's also only yourself who you can't really lie to no matter how much you try to. Or really want to...or even need to.

So what does the paradox mean then? Is that all that life is worth? Just defining its paradoxes and lamenting them and then moving on?

Do such questions even exist? Or is it all just "in the head"? And if it is just there, does that make it any less real? Any less relevant? Was Descartes' evil genius not so evil after all, because that's how things actually are in this world? Or is the world itself just a figment of the imagination, and we all see it through our own blurred, shadowed, opinionated view-finders and each seek to see only what comforts them?

And why do we all ask such absurd questions in the first place? Everyone claims to be "looking for the answers", but never finds them. Maybe it's because no one's really searching whole-heartedly in the first place....

Truth is, maybe we're all too scared of the answers and so we shirk away from anything that contradicts our beliefs. Scared? What? Yes...scared, because at some level, we all know that we're shallow. And self-interested. Only. And we're scared that if we actually ponder life's questions with the intention of finding the answers, that's what we'll get. Plain, cold facts...about all of us. And even that is part of the self-imposed denial, buried beneath the scared lies we tell ourselves. Because, at the end of the day, all we care about is ourselves. All we can possibly care about is probably ourselves. You. Me. ALL of us.

And we hide it beneath a veneer of pseudo-intellect. We create and debate and ponder - and it's all pretense.

So, if that's how things are, it'll all build up and blow up in our faces one fine day, right? No, it won't. It'll all go on as it has been. Nothing will ever change...

I'll keep on deluding myself that I care. And you'll keep on living your life without noticing.

...just like you said it would be.

I've got random songs stuck in my head

2006-10-16T21:07:00.000+05:00

I haven’t been blogging regularly for quite a while now; I’ve wanted to on several occasions but there just hasn’t been enough time to sit down and write a post at leisure. Sounds kinda far-fetched, but it’s true. The workload this quarter has just been insane. That’s it. No other word to describe it actually, that’s how horrible it is. Assignments, papers, quizzes, deadlines, mid-terms, readings…one would think there’s a limit to the various types of torture a poor student can be subjected to. Apparently not. And then my over-exuberant nature that has compelled me to venture into the previously relatively unexplored avenues of the “rest of the world” at school has added more to the strain than to the fun. And then, there IS a life away from school (yeah, I still call university school…whatever) unbelievable though it may sound! And that part of life has seen so many little things going on too lately. Some good. And some…well, not-so-good. But, at the end of everything, life’s still going on…

Ramadan’s been sort of passive this time round. I’m not really sure what I even mean when I say that. But the month’s been more mellow than I remember it from before; more quiet somehow. Or maybe that’s just the effect of not having the tv downstairs so there’s no more waking up to the nauseating sounds of Dr Aamir Liaqat at Sehri, or having to listen to him drone on and on in his know-it-all annoying style, with that smirk etched permanently on his face (which I absolutely fail to understand why everyone else can’t see!) that just can’t be wiped off for some absurd reason, and his holier-than-thou attitude which irks the hell out of me and his aura of superiority which apparently people think is the ‘air of a true religious scholar’, while all the time his fakeness and plasticity make him look like a self-satisfied *something* that I’d rather not say in public!…. I swear, sometimes it scares me to think of what our country might come to one day!

But Sehri is still as torturous a business as it’s been over the past few years…digesting anything at that hour is just impossible, no matter what anyone says. But by now, I’ve sort of fallen into the monotonous, mechanical routine of somehow eating at sehri…bite, chew, chew, swallow…bite, chew, chew, swallow, down a gulp of water and start the first step again…repeat until the end of one slice of bread is somehow accomplished, drink another glass of water while ignoring the pleading resistance of your stomach and trudge back upstairs…another sehri somehow survived.

But, to be honest, Ramadan’s going alright; I don’t mind it at all because it hasn’t made much of a difference to anything. Of course, that’s as long as you don’t switch on the tv at the inopportune hours that I’ve already commented upon :)

In a way it’s almost weird that life’s been such a whirlwind recently, and different too because of that and, yet, the same old fears still somehow find ways of surfacing and hurting and making you think, especially when you don’t want to. I mean, like there’s this lame ol’ thing people say that ‘loved ones hurt you must’. They don’t know half of it…everyone thinks it means that the closer someone is to you, the more something they say will hurt you. But what of the hurt that comes from someone you care about not saying something to you? Not in the sense that you want to hear something special from them or anything…nothing of that sort! But just when you know that someone you care about a whole lot is upset and doesn’t talk to you about it? When you know that you’d do anything you could to make them feel better? That hurts so much more than anything anyone ever says or does to you could…to know that you care and not be able to show it because the other person probably doesn’t think of you as friend enough to tell you what’s wrong…what of that helplessness? What to do then?

Sometimes I seriously wonder whether it’s just idiotic to care so much…

*sigh* But anyway, this wasn’t supposed to be a sad post wallowing in self-pity; it wasn’t supposed to be anything in particular, just matter-of-fact maybe.

So…yeah, in other news, I’ve learnt that the one thing I was better than Federer at no longer exists; apparently, I’ve lost my edge. I mean isn’t it enough for him that he’s the world number 1 tennis player on top of the fact that he’s good-looking n’ talented n’ famous n’ breaking records left and right n’ still goin’ strong?! The one liiitttle thing where I surpassed him (or so I thought!) was my writing skills…for some reason, he doesn’t want to grant me that tiny satisfaction either! He just had to write the one-week blog for atp tennis and it just had to be so much more interesting and funny and better-written than mine…hmmphh, I’m jealous! :S hehe. But I do admit that I love him more after his blog ‘cause it was so good…and yeah, it was better than mine, painful admission as that may be! And incase any one wants proof - or if any one is simply a Roger Federer fan, or a big tennis fan otherwise too :) – I’d strongly recommend visiting the blog. http://www.atptennis.com/1/en/blog/current_federer.asp

I just realised that this post has turned out like a long email instead of a blog post…I wonder where I went wrong :S There’s a lot more I could drone on about but writing random stuff from the past few weeks has kinda lost its charm over the past few minutes or so…

I dunno, things have just been crazy lately…people I never expected to have been pretty nice recently, courses I expected to mess up have been going good, ones I was planning to do well in have turned out twisted, relatives who I’m not ready to let go of yet have fallen very sick out of the blue, interviews that have scared the living crap out of me as a rule have turned out well, writing which used to be a life-saver is something I’ve been put off from lately…weirdness and randomness is at an all-time high…

…but to Him up there, it’s all just a big game, ain’t it? ;)

2006-10-10T23:22:00.000+05:00

One hi-lighter bright yellow, one lime green...a beige 'gabucha' (local term for a beanbag chair)...a steaming mug of espresso, high on caffeine...books and notes and jstor articles spewed about haphazardly...ms-word blinking on the computer screen, displaying unfinished sentences...a calculator waiting to be turned off...a metal lamp scorching hot from overuse...and just one weary person, stranded in the midst of it all...on an island where the calming blues of the ocean can not be seen no matter how far you run, where the beauty of a golden-orange horizon doesn't beckon you to let go of all worries and soar towards it...where sheer will-power is useless...where only caffiene can grant you a lifeline and spread its tingling warmth through your frazzled nerves and clear your mind, but only for a few hours at a time...

where life is a perpetual race against time in which the finish line is no longer in sight...

how much longer, God, how much longer?

2006-09-16T02:10:00.000+05:00

If Hala knew I'm writing this post just for her I s'pose she'd expect me (mind you, EXPECT..not merely want, but actually be audacious enough to expect!) to say that the sun's stopped shining down on lums, the birds have ceased their merry chirping, the clouds seem dreary, the trees have lost their swagger and the whole campus is no more bright and cheerful! Tall order, ain't it? But that's exactly what you get when you're dealing with Hala...the whole deal, whether you like it or not. In fact, the more you don't like it, the more likely it is that you're stuck with all of it - the tongue-biting sarcasm, the complete inconsideration of your feelings, the air of superiority that gazes down upon you...and the thick, thick skin which no one (well, almost no one :P) can get under!

Consider all of that and it's quite likely that you'll feel foolish for telling her that she shouldn't go. Or rather, you'll very seriously believe that I must be reasonably insane for telling her that she shouldn't go. Umm, you might actually be right...I'm still working on that one!

But regardless of the wiseness of what I said, I did say it. And mean it.

She left anyway.

About 8 months...that's about all I've known her. And 8 minutes is about all it took for her to make clear that 'twas the genrosity of her regal spirit that permitted her to shine her attention upon us lowly subjects the very first day I was introduced to her. Intimidating...I know!

I'm glad to report that the haalaat improved considerably soon after. Not that the sarcasm ever went away for long enough to make me feel comfortable; rather, the more she got to know, the more she used me as a not-so-loyal subject to sharpen her tongue on.

And it's not even as if I never gathered any ammunition against her. Of course I did. Very soon, in fact. Maybe even more than she had. The afternoon talks in the pdc during the 'juma' break, sitting on the pdc wala footpath, the msn convos, the visits to the e-lab (:P :P :P), the summer-quarter afternoons in the DRs...conversations that often tended to revolve around the same person - again and again. And then a few more times. (For the record, just to prove the unfairness of life when you're in Hala's world...I'm still not allowed to even try to hit on him even though she's gone and will be flirting with every good-looking gora she sees. Also, again for the record, I won't say a lot more that I feel like 'cause you never, never know who just might someday visit my blog and read more into the lines that I'd be safe with...Hala kee tu khair hai, but meri achi bhali izzat khaak mein mil jaye gee..hehe.) The teasing, the matchmaking, the encouragement to look into other options (haha...too many of those to recall, though one in particular I still think is suitable! :P), the half-serious lectures on "hala, ab insaan ban jao..kafi hu gaya hai!", the so-called philosophical discourses on whether 'love at first sight' can truly ever possibly exist, (I'm still not so sure, despite all her theories), trying to convince hala that the light of her life and the love of her life should be the same person, trying to understand why that wasn't/isn't/won't be possible so easily...*sigh* I could rant on and on for quite a while, without making much sense to anyone else. But I do know what I'm talking about :)

Hala, if you read this...two things. First of all, do not dare to leave this page without leaving a comment (and a NICE one, mind you! Yeah surprise surprise, I can be rude too once in a while!). And second of all, I know you're gonna be back ;)

But after all the raving and ranting, after all the jibes and sarcasm, after all the teasing and threatening, there's one thing which, much as I hate to admit, has turned out to be true...

Ever since Hala left, the sun has been shining just that little bit less on lums, the birds' chirping is that little bit less merry, the clouds are that little bit more dreary, the trees have lost that little bit of their swagger...and the whole campus is that little bit less bright and cheerful.

*sigh* I guess you can't have it all in life now...can you?

2006-08-27T15:56:00.000+05:00

She thought I didn’t see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes when we were going to ‘purani anarkali’ at three in the night, or the pain in her gaze when she was acting nonchalant in the evening and suggesting that we take a walk outside. All I wanted to do then was throw my arms around her…let her cry if she wanted to, talk about it if she needed to, tell her that I love her if it might mean anything to her, listen to her, comfort her, make her realise that I already understood but I wanted to understand more…anything that would make her feel any less helpless and hurt and angry about everything going on. But I didn’t. I just couldn’t. Not for lack of spontaneity, but of courage. And because of inexplicable embarrassment. I felt awfully revolted at myself, and I regretted it even more – I still do, but it doesn’t change anything because I lost that moment and, with it, the chance to do what might have helped at that point in time. Sometimes it’s humiliating to know your own short-comings so well and, yet, be unable to change yourself…sometimes it’s just sickeningly disgusting to be who you really are…

She never lost her poise at any of those times and she reverted to her cheerful demeanor within minutes, but I’ll never completely forget those vulnerable, naked emotions and the loneliness that I saw that night. Her integrity and strength surprised and impressed me; her fragility and sorrow nearly killed me, but all of it just made me love her more.

I was the last person to hug her at the airport yesterday, and I like to believe that I wouldn’t have cried as well even if they hadn’t left the next instant – I know that’s not true but I won’t admit it :)

I’m going to miss her a lot, I know that, but then I also know that I’ll think back on the last few days less and less as times go by and life picks up its usual pace…

I just hope I can always remember the last few days like I do right now, and I never forget to pray - for myself and for her…

God Bless You!

2006-08-24T05:59:00.000+05:00

She holds her gaze as steady as she can, although inside she's shaking and fighting for outward control. She's on the verge of breaking down and losing whatever calm she has managed to display, yet her level gaze never wavers. Her expressive eyes plead justice. Beg for understanding and compassion. The vulnerability and sincerity shining from her whole being would have convinced anyone. No! Almost anyone.

But not this enemy. This enemy is too accustomed to battering innocence to have a conscience left within itself...their hooded eyes sparkle with deception; their piercing stares filled with self-created contempt and hate; their angry words veiled under sarcastic insults. They come closer and closer relentlessly - creating an inescapable barrier around her. Then perfecting it by closing in together...

Still she doesn't lose her carefully perfected exterior. It's the only weapon left she screams to herself. And even though her insides are writhing with fear and desolation, and her every breath causes her to wince inwardly as she battles against the sobs threatening to erupt any second, her eyes now reflect only cold determination. She knows they will never be humane enough to follow what even they know is the truth and concede her victory, yet her indomitable spirit wills her to remain defiant, even if it strains every pore of energy her body contains. It is sheer will-power that keeps her standing there, staring endlessly, silently refusing to accept defeat.

The continued act of self-resiliance in the face of such danger irks them rather than gaining their grudged admiration. Maybe it's not even their fault, since they were all long stripped of any human emotions. Their ragged breath is already coming in the shallow gasps of anticipation. They can already taste the tantalisation of crushing their opponent, with no regard for the dishonesty, deceit and lies that brought them thus far.

With a silent murmur akin to a hungry growl, they all begin to descend even closer to her - simultaneously and, in a sinister way, almost gracefully.

The years of meticulous disregard for humanity and the truth have rendered them such. The endless instances of sheer cruelty and force have extolled them to near-perfection in their 'art'. For it is nothing short of an art what they have accomplished...tormenting innocence with a ferociously determined, yet unspoken, vow to ravage it until they succeed in killing it. Completely and surely. Wiping honesty from the very face of the earth, until nothing but malice like theirs reigns in endless supremacy.

Their insistent growls, low in their throats, seem indefinably dangerous to her. As they march so close to her that she can see nothing past the solid wall they have skilfully erected all around her, the fear escalated unconditionally and wildly. Until it breaks. Her resolve shattered by the sense of impending, and immediate, doom she begins to scream. Full of fright at first, and then hysterically. Louder and louder, out of the fear that she had battled against for years, with eyes flashing around wildly, looking frantically for someplace to escape. Any place. The tears start pouring down her face - unchecked and desperate. It is another plea, another way of begging.

Undaunted, they stride on further, as if they cannot even witness the pathetic sight they all behold. Further and further, until her loud wails are enveloping the entire cave. Until her cries turn into muffled screams that are drowning out. Until they are so close that her breath turns jagged, and she begins to choke.

Uncontrollably...unendingly.

Even her chokes become muffled as they close in even more tightly, towering above her sitting frame, dwarfing her. They lean down to ensure their success. Gradually her cries become even more muted, and she begins to struggle for air.

She is rapidly losing control of all her senses, and she fights desperately for composure. She already senses that it's a lost cause. Yet the remnants of her battered pride do not allow her to submit herself willingly, even now when death is staring right into her face.

The chief suddenly thrusts his hands out and seizes her throat, ready to complete the task.

Her jagged breaths sending shooting pains across her chest and ribs now turn into pitiful gasps. Gasps of air that are coming too infrequently, and too ineffective.

Sensing victory is now within plain sight, they all let out a roar of approval. Their laughs reverbate in the secluded cave, bouncing off the walls and coming back with even more venom. Those howls are manic, yet ecstatic as they continue jeering her long after her body has been stripped of all human breath, long after she is just a pile of bones and flesh thrown carelessly across the floor...long after she ceases to exist.

2006-08-18T14:13:00.000+05:00

It’s strange how sometimes distant relatives who you’ve never met for more than a few hours before, and their little children who are your second cousins, can manage to make you feel more at peace and more loved than you can remember being in a long, long time – and all that within just three short days.

I truly feel blessed. As clichéd as that sounds, it’s true.

That little six-year old girl with the charming smile, shy eyes and Midland accent who softly announced that I was her best friend, who refused to sleep anywhere but in the same room as me, who couldn’t understand why I couldn’t visit her in England if she had come from there to see me, who let me brush out her tangles when she wouldn’t let her mother do that even, who asked me with all the seriousness of a youngster what I dreamt about, who replied with equal gravity when I asked her for an example that the best, and most reasonable dreams, were made up of fairies and castles and magic, who hugged me every five minutes with childlike innocence and wonder – it all seems terribly childish but it managed to create memories. Special bonds that mean the world. Even to me.

Her eight-year old brother secretly confided to his mother that he thinks I’m hot…reveling in that compliment might seem cheap, but it’s the first of its kind for me, so I’ll accept it very gladly – and abashedly even, for that seems the appropriate way to react :p At least the eleven year age difference is sufficient for me to be sure that the comment was honest, and held no ulterior motives. Or who knows? After all, I’m known to be highly paranoid at times..hehe.

And then there was the other little sister, exactly half his age, with her pixie face and mass of curls that I still can’t figure out how she could see anything through since they’re always cascading around her adorable face, set off by a pair of the most mischievous and laughing eyes that I’ve ever seen. Her indifference to her mother’s scoldings, her inability to stay still for a few minutes even, and her habit of smiling and laughing with every word she uttered couldn’t do any less than captivate the most distant stranger even! I spent half my time chasing her around the house, and the other half admiring her drawings of people with separate stories, each human being having been bestowed with merely a circle for a face, followed by two stick-figure like arms and legs, a nose and a smile…not once did it occur to that little devil that there was a thing known as a body to which all those things are normally attached :)

And then there were those hours spent laughing at li’l Sallu’s antics, trying to teach him how to say ‘khota’ (and succeeding once when I made him say it to my brother) without caring that the poor guy could only speak three words as yet, playing football with him with a tennis ball, being ashamed and delighted that at one year and three months he could kick more accurately than me (and my brain-eye-foot co-ordination is definitely not appalling…the kid was just way too good!), entertaining him with all sorts of bizarre items including anyone & everyone’s ‘chappals’, ammi’s glasses’ cover, his empty feeder, little toy cars, plastic bottles, wooden spoons, empty ice-cream tubs, trays with mangoes in them, then being astonished and proud of my own creativity when he enjoyed every single object we played with and rewarded us with toothy grins and baby chuckles filled with glee, laughing hysterically when four of us pelted the innocent child with sofa cushions completely baffling him and he apparently enjoyed the ordeal, taking pictures of all his frolics, watching him dance around with the older kids, to the beats of hindi music that I hadn’t heard before, looking absolutely adorable (so much so that I actually threatened to grind him and eat him up..haha), letting him hit me with a walkie-talkie and then with his bare hands just because he was enjoying it for some retarded reason that only babies can understand…and best of all, reveling in those few moments when he suddenly decided for no good reason to throw his little arms around my neck and bury his head in my shoulder in unmistakable and unconditional hugs that somehow managed to touch me more than any words could…

And after all those whirlwind hours of excitement and love, spending the nights deep in whispered conversations with Pari baji, wondering how it took so many years to actually get to know her – and know her SO well. It was one of those amazing connections that I thought I’d never make so quickly. I’ve never trusted someone within a few short hours of talking to them, but somehow it happened this time round. Hearing incidents from her own teenage years which had hurt then, caused by people who I’ve been hated by as well somehow helped to alleviate some of the pain which has seemed to be omnipresent in my life recently. The sting somehow became less sharp just by being able to see that somehow else had lived through things very similar…the feeling of being understood in that regard by someone I had always known technically but never practically somehow rose above the empathy of people who’ve known my plight even longer…hearing and sympathising with her own fears and secrets that she's never felt comfortable enough to share with her own siblings even, somehow made me feel worthy of being trusted again, something which no one has managed to do in months...and it made me feel human again.

It took only the days from Sunday evening to Wednesday morning to conjure memories that I sense will last longer – much, much longer. Even though I don’t really understand why they mean so much, because writing about it all hasn’t portrayed how I really felt…what’s inside is much more, and it isn’t explainable. But it’s still there. Surrounding me like a warm blanket on a cold night, sheltering me from the usual despair even though it’s for a short time…I want to embrace it for as long as I can. And even after it’s no longer comforting, I still want to be able to look back and remember it and savour all those emotions…for as long as I can. And I know I'll be able to do that.

Because just this once God is on MY side! :)

Book Week in Blogland

2006-08-13T05:55:00.000+05:00

Okay. So I got this idea from Sabahat’s blog, though I've written mine with no embellishments, and a far inferior knowledge of books. Oh but one li'l embellishment...I've added some comments in a few places, because somehow I cannot keep my mouth shut (or fingers under control, in this case) long enough to write a short post for once! Hehe. So, logically that means I shouldn't have bothered to make a list, but like I've said before...it's my blog, so I have every right to be stupid here if I like :) Nevertheless, those of you who read this post, do make up one of your own as well - it'd be fun seeing it!

The book that changed my life : To be honest, I couldn't really think of one to fit in here, so I decided to go with the closest that I could recall right now, though I'm not really sure if it truly managed to change my life per-se :) Fiela's Child, by Dalene Mathee.

The book I have read more than once : This has to be the category with way too many answers for me to even recall and sift through. For now, I'll just stick with one though that's not so easy right now. Boy, by Roald Dahl.

The book I'd want on a desert island: Aah! This was a toughie because I couldn't help thinking that if I really was on a desert island (and do bear in mind that for some unfathomable reason the only scenario in which I can possible imagine myself on one is if I was stranded there, and was all alone) I'd have far more important and interesting things to deal with, so reading a book wouldn't be very high on my priority list. However, as practical as that analysis is, for the sake of making my list I did have to choose something, so I thought it should be a book which somehow made me feel serene in a way that is very unusual and, curiously, unexplainable. Désiree, by Annemarie Selinko.

The book that made me laugh : My family and other animals, by Gerald Durrell.

The book that made me cry : A boy named Dave, by Dave Pelzer.

The book I think everyone should own : 'Labaik', by Mumtaz Mufti.

The book I am currently reading : One hundred years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garçia Marquez.

The book I have been meaning to read : Why I am not a Christian, by Bertrand Russell.

The book that I wish had never been written : The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho.

The book that I wish had been written : Haha, this has to be the most interesting and the most difficult question of all. It certainly had me stumped, and I still can't come up with an answer even half as intelligent as the question itself. The only book that comes to mind that I wish, at this instant, existed is Roger Federer's Autobiography, so I'm just gonna stick with that :)

Past, present...and future?

2006-08-03T20:36:00.000+05:00

I need to redefine the word ‘family’ in my mind’s dictionary. Somehow I was naïve enough to believe until recently that the word includes your parents, siblings and your relatives. After all, they’re the people you grew up knowing… the friends you never had to search for, the people you trusted implicitly, who you’d stand up for and fiercely protect without a second thought, who’d love you for the person you really are, who you looked up to for guidance and ideals, in front of whom you never had to put up an act because they’d never judge you since they knew the real ‘you’…sometimes I wonder why I never realised that none of the façade was true.

Sometimes I laugh at myself for being such a simpleton that I actually believed that the sanctity of such a relationship would be as important to everyone else as it’s always been to me. Maybe I should thank the Lord for showing me the truth much before it could cause any permanent damage. Knowing what people think still hurts, especially when they don’t have the courage to say it out loud, but not knowing would hurt even worse…life has gone back to erecting an invisible barrier around oneself to shield against all of those people who smile with their lips and not their eyes, because their eyes look only with suspicion and greed…

Lies that have been repeated over and over again till the point where they become stale beliefs..accepted without question, revered without understanding. Hatred that has been etched so meticulously that its falseness is no longer an issue anyone would pay attention to. The pretence veiled so skillfully beneath layers and layers of hypocrisy that no one would ever guess their true intentions…their real motives…the lies, deceit, narrow minded beliefs… maybe the fact that I somehow know is no mere coincidence; maybe the person that it’s all meant for somehow knows. I’ve played my part in the disgusting circus by acting nonchalant and unconcerned, perfected by months and months of practice to the point where my subtlety and complete lack of feeling has begun to convince myself even. I know it’s futile, yet I remain shrouded within the dark cloud of indifference because it’s the easiest escape route. The only escape route.

I have to go on fighting – quietly, stealthily, alone. I have to. I have to. To hang on to the last thread…the only thing keeping me hanging from the brink. Of insanity.

ghazab kiya teray vaade par aitebar kiya, tamaam raat qiyamat ka intezar kiya

2006-06-23T17:53:00.000+05:00

Running the shampoo through my hair, I suddenly realised I was doing it almost aggressively - almost as if I needed to wash out more than just the dirt; almost as if I was unconsciously trying to dig down into the thoughts inside the head and throw them out as well, and cleanse myself of all false dreams and thoughts. As if I was attempting to rid my mind of all futile hopes and scrub viciously until there was nothing left except a small, scared bit of me facing the 'real' world.

In those few minutes I somehow realised what I had to do.

It's been over a week and I've been trying my best to follow the mind rather than the heart. I'm not sure how long I can keep up the facade. Maybe, I'll be so convincing that I'll fool my ownself one day and believe that I never felt anything for you. Or maybe, fate will choose a more cruel path and never let me forget.

It took me a minute to decide eventually but weeks, or maybe months, of turmoil before that to get where I am now. At some level I probably always knew that nothing can ever happen. Nothing should happen or will. Ever. But, ironically, often knowing something doesn't help to understand it quicker. Or better. It even took me a week to gather the courage to write because writing somehow puts a cruel aura of finality on the whole situation.

Writing is no longer an escape route to purge myself, it's a confrontation with the fear that I always pretended never existed.

Yet it was always there. Lurking in the deepest corner of the soul, threatening to conquer at the slightest indication. One day it had to be let loose. It was probably just a matter of time. A mere matter of time. I can't be anyone significant in your life. That's all there is to it. Maybe because I'm not good enough for you, maybe because it's just not meant to be, maybe because...I don't even know. I never will. Because I'll never let you find out. Not because I'm scared that you'll ridicule me or never talk to me again, but because I don't want to embarrass you. Or hurt you, if there's the slightest possibility of that. You mean too much. Still.

No, you'll never know and I'll keep on greeting you every day, or every other day, with a smile because I'll still be genuinely happy to see you. That won't change. I'll still care. As much as I possibly, humanly can... and then some more. I don't know if you're worth it or not, but I will nevertheless. I swear you'll never know the hurt that you unknowingly caused. Regret later? Perhaps. Probably, in fact. But I still will. But no more false beliefs or notions of what 'might' happen one day. Because it won't.

I'm trying to think of it as just another fork along the road of life, and I have to take the left side or the right. Not a decision between the 'right' and 'wrong' path according to me, because I don't know what is right or wrong anymore. The difference between the two is more blurred than ever. So I won't even try to discern it anymore, or try to make myself understand or accept anything. I just need the strength to go on. Stand at the fork in the road and walk along the path that you need to I keep telling myself. After all there have been countless decisions I've already made in life. Deciding between one route and the other. We all do it. It's just another one of those instances where you think for a moment, decide and then, walk on with life...

There's just one small difference between all those times and this time. As always, I'll walk on. Past the fork in this road and, as always, the world will see me travelling further along.

But, this time, I'll have left my heart behind...

it's an illusion

2006-06-13T01:18:00.000+05:00

I swore I'd never save random msn conversations ever again because months later they make me cry or feel disgusted or lost or helpless - all over again. And, yet, I've started doing it again. Not often. Just sometimes. On some random whim, even though I know the cost of it. But maybe, just maybe, one day opening them up will make me smile instead. It's a long shot, but I need justification. Any absurdity to comfort myself for now. Because it's all absurd. It's all bloody absurd. Knowing one thing, wanting another. Wanting one thing and never knowing what to do. Knowing that it's not meant to be, but futilely wanting a miracle. Not believing in miracles, but wanting them nevertheless...

It's an illusion.

Staunch refusal to accept plain, hard facts. Self-imposed denial of reality.

How much longer can it keep on going? Someday the facade must shatter. Someday it will. I know.

But I just want to be a friend. I promise. I promise! Today and forever. But even that is an aura of disbelief. Because for some, I'll never be worth that even.

It makes me want to smile and cry at the same time. Be hysterical and despondent in the same breath.

I wonder how much longer I can fool myself....

19 down, how many more to go...??

2006-06-04T05:08:00.000+05:00

Sometimes - just sometimes - I feel like a spoilt brat. An absolutely spoilt, shallow brat! And as hateful it sounds, once in a while I think it's legal. Even though ammi said, when I said this to her a few hours ago, keh wasting a little of my own money to make myself happy doesn't make me spoilt. Or a brat. Although she thinks I'm both for other reasons! haha

I have a weird feeling those last few lines weren't coherent and didn't make a lot of sense. I'm too tired to try to edit them. So what if they are nonsensical?! They should be if I've slept 6 hours over the last 48 hours...maybe even over more than two days in fact.

It's funny to remember how I childishly used to feel each year that when I'd wake up on my birthday, I'd somehow feel different. Older, perhaps. Or more wise, at times. And, obviously, I'd wake up the same crazy, immature and loud person that I've been all my life. It wouldn't sadden me - of course not! But sometimes it was like a little deflation to the balloon of happiness swelling inside on those mornings. Because if I didn't feel different, if the morning felt to ME the same as every morning had felt for as long as I could remember then how was it different if it was my birthday?! (as if THAT made any sense! But I just can't really put this feeling into words somehow!)

So I realised this years ago...that a birthday didn't mean growing up a year, it just meant growing up a day. And since I got to experience that pretty frequently (every 24 hours to be precise) then there was nothing different, no matter how much I thought it might be. Or should be. But what's hopelessly ironic is that I still somehow manage to work myself up into a frenzy of excitement before that day. And, more often than not, I still somehow believe that I'll be wiser the next morning. It's ridiculous. And absurd. And yet, sometimes I want to have these stupid philosophies ... which I can cook up myself, share with myself and then laugh at myself. No outside intervention and I can get a kick outta myself! Now tell me, anything wrong with that?! :)

Right now, I'm not making any decisions for the next year. No ambitions, no dreams, no goals. No aspirations. Not now, not yet. Maybe later. But for now, I just know one thing. I'm beginning to learn what my priorities in life are. I'm somehow starting to realise who matters to me, and who doesn't. Who I couldn't care less about, and who I care more and more about even if sometimes I don't know it. And, miraculously, I'm also beginning to teach myself to live knowing that sometimes people don't care back. Not much, at least. There's no law saying if you really, really care about someone they have to care back the same way. So, if they don't...well tough luck, I gotta face it! And if I still care despite knowing it, then maybe that person is worth it...

It may not be worth it (as opposed to "it's worth it!”), but they probably are...

This year I just want to be happy. Whatever that is, however that is. Yes, I realise that it sounds hopelessly selfish and the whole 'spoilt brat' concept comes back to mind but if I can pray for certain other people's happiness, then is it such a crime to wish for my own once in a while?! Especially if most of it stems from knowing and feeling and seeing their joy – and sometimes being privileged enough to being part of it. Being allowed to share the sanctity of someone’s sweet memories. Being invited to witness someone fall in love. Being able to see the lopsided grins and serenity that shines from within when someone finds their inner peace…

Yes, I may not always be able to make a difference, but I do care. I know that. And, sometimes, I’ll never stop caring. That’s a promise. To anyone and everyone I genuinely cherish and respect and admire, whether they know it or not.

Today, I just want to be happy. And then, when I know that I am, I want to thank God over and over again for bringing me to the place where I know... that’s my birthday wish…

Cheers Everyone!

gulon mein rang bharey baad-e-nau bahaar chaley, chaley bhi aao keh gulshan ka karobar chaley...

2006-05-27T00:44:00.000+05:00

The votes have been cast, the result has been announced, the season is over and the SOUL PATROL has officially emerged victorious against the stupid McPheever! Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, Taylor Hicks is the new American Idol...woohoo!!! Watching the finale yesterday morning live at 5am was actually fun even though I grew increasingly worried that the one contestant who I hated from the word go would somehow manage to win...I was relieved by the results is definitely an understatement! And the fact that I had a Pakistan Studies final in the evening and I was up till 7am thanks to Idol wasn't worrisome until the moment when I was actually IN the exam room! hehe.

But now, almost two days later, the quarter is over...oh yeahhh! FINALLY! Last exam this morning, last look at lums for the next nine days...three quarters through already and, as clichéd as it sounds, the ride's been pretty quick so far. Time has pretty much flown by, through good and bad. I already feel like I've changed in some ways, some for the better and, of course, some maybe for the worse though I'd rather not admit that. Haha. But I still think the positives are outweighing all the evils at the end of the day, and it's the little things and short moments of sheer fun that make me feel like saying right now that "it's all good folks!"

Okay okay, I'm sounding like some corny greeting card. I realise that without anyone having to roll their eyes in exasperation or amusement. But all I meant was that despite the fact that you might be friendless at times, that you're devoid of hope every now and then...something or the other comes up and, often unconsciously, you just make it through it all unscathed.

I was thinking back over this past quarter. Trying to mark some of its high-lights - university related life that is of course. I spoke up in my Political Science class once off my own accord! Haha...believe it or not, it IS an achievement even if it came in the 29th lecture and I'm still miserably below the CP mean for the course! If I could do it once, then maybe I can do it again - I just need to get used to the concept. And...*drumroll*... I voluntarily went for an interview (model WTO society), and even managed to get selected somehow!!! Okay okay OKAY..it doesn't sound big. Not even remotely interesting but, firstly, it's my blog, I can be boring when I want to and, secondly, for me it's a huge step forward and I want to revel in it for as long as I can. Lame as that sounds.

And then of course surviving three SS courses which my friends said I wouldn't be able to cope with, making a couple of new friends (even socialising is something that I normally suck at!), asking two people for help in multivariate calculus (bearing in mind that these are two of those people who I am most scared of within lums!), entertaining my friends endlessly and free of any cost, going to the Reading Circle meetings and even speaking up when forced to...for some reason all this stuff makes me feel happy in an odd way. Like maybe I can do something with my life...perhaps there is a world beyond futile hopes and self-pity. Maybe, just maybe, it'll all work out fine in the end. All of it. ALL of it...maybe...

But one thing hasn't changed. Not yet at least. Much as I want to block it out of my memory, much as I need to not think of it, much as I should escape from it...the memory of that gray t-shit still strikes me at my most vulnerable. And it always manages to leave me even more insecure and broken than before. And yet, sometimes it still makes me smile. It might be a sad smile, but it is a smile nevertheless. I know, at a purely rational level, that it's all so absurd that I should just stop hoping and wanting, and should just move on with life. But in the battle of the heart and mind, it's easy to know that the latter should dominate but, more often than not, emotion reigns...

...when practicality and reason are words that never existed and never meant anything...when it's just the sanctity of one person you yearn for.

What are you supposed to do then?

Yesteryears.

2006-05-16T00:52:00.000+05:00

I'm not so audacious as to claim myself to be someone who has tons of amazingly close friends or anything; quite the contrary in fact. However, I am sure of one thing and that's the fact that I'm not a fair-weather friend. Never! If I genuinely care about someone then I'll go out of my way to do anything and everything for that person. And the trouble is that, more than often, I learn to care too easily. And trust too quickly. Somehow or the other, I always manage to attach myself to people way to soon for my own good. I know it, and yet I always end up doing it. I hate myself for that. And then, even when I know not to, I tend to have expectations from others. It's stupid, especially since I know it's my own fault if I get hurt, but I just can't help doing it...it's a horrible feeling, but it is what it is and maybe I can't change that...

Sometimes, I honestly wish I could just turn back time and remain a little kid for ever. Even a few years backwards might do the trick. Back to when the most intriguing issues in life were being unbeatable at dodge-the-ball, being on the netball team and spending hours playing throwball at school, be it June or December. When it didn't matter that you didn't have one or two special, 'best' friends because it wasn't weird to hang out with everyone. When no one judged you for being overweight or loud-mouthed, and no one cared that you had bad skin, unruly hair and non-existent interest in the latest fads and fashions. When school was not a cut-throat competition, rather it was just a place to have fun and get good grades without studying hard. When the fact that guys existed in the world couldn't matter less to you because they were less important than the most meaningless creatures in the world. When the biggest fear on a week-day was not how to have the courage to speak up in class and score CP, because it was much more difficult to stay still and keep quiet in class for more than five minutes. When the word 'heartache' was something you thought you knew without realising that you hadn't the slightest idea of what hurt could actually be. When you'd laugh your head in ridicule if someone suggested that one day you'd be sitting in a room full of people, attending a philosophy class, physically present but otherwise withdrawn, with meaningless tears blurring your vision every now and then because you just wouldn't know where to go... because you just wouldn't know how to handle it... because you just wouldn't know if it was all even worth it......

As childish as it sounds, sometimes I just want to go back to being the happy-go-lucky person that I lost track of...sometimes I wonder if I've really forgotten how to not care about people who don't care about me...sometimes I wish I never had to grow up...

...sometimes I wish I was the Peter Pan who makes it to Neverland - never to grow up and never to come back!

2006-05-08T14:20:00.000+05:00

It was all an oddity in one sense. Dialogues loud enough to blast your ear-drums, tissues stuffed in ears in a desperate attempt to muffle the sharpness of the sound… old men hobbling across the seats with walking sticks, air-conditioners going on and off every few minutes off their own accord, uncles and aunties with silver-gray hair leaning towards one another every now and then to exchange some comment…a short chuckle over some joke, perhaps…an intimate moment of privacy in that simple gesture made in the midst of, but untouched by, the huge world swallowing them up.

A movie from over 40 years ago. A story passed down through decades, and I still find it extremely absurd. Cinematography, direction, lighting and even acting still soaring high above contemporary cinema. And the music! Work of a master-class, undoubtedly…beautiful and spell-binding for the most.

Yet, my interest wavered ever so frequently. The day took its toll and I almost dozed off unconsciously several times.

The love shown may have meant to be magical but, strangely enough, it failed to touch me. The willing sacrifice of a life for a beloved somehow seemed unreal – more like martyrdom than real love. It wasn’t relatable, it didn’t strangle. Nor even captivate. I still wonder why.

My eyes closed for a brief respite and I expected to see the usual dark void behind the sheltered lids. Or, at most, I expected some random image to come forth into my mind. It didn’t. I was somewhat surprised, somewhat amused and somewhat lost. All I could perceive was that gray t-shirt… and those hands. The long fingers, so artistic and captivating – so beautiful that I knew I wanted to hold on to that hand and never let go. All I wanted was to clench that shirt, bury my head there and let go of all reality. Forget everything, even my own existence. Think of nothing, not even why I wanted that sanctuary. Stay there, with the person I was once at risk of falling in love with…stay there and never let go…never…never…

The moment seemed sacred in one sense, and scary in other…in parts, it was a revelation, in parts a mere absurdity. Yet the longing was there. The need did exist then.

Two days later, I have my memory of that image. It never existed, yet it was as real to reality as imagination could be. The image would pale in comparison to reality, I know, but reality can never occur.

I simply remember…and I smile.

2006-04-28T14:35:00.000+05:00

I’ve been wanting to blog for the past many days but somehow the effort of sitting down in front of the computer to type out a post seemed too heavy. It’s an odd feeling because I’ve always used writing to purge myself…sometimes it’s the only escape when life is going too fast to handle. So it’s kind of unsettling to feel afraid of writing. It’s a new feeling and one that doesn’t worry me, but it scares me at times. What if one day I wake up to find that I can’t even string together enough words to come up with a non-academic sentence?! What will there be left then…

I’m not trying to sound morbid. Merely realistic. I wonder if practicality makes me a realist? I still don’t understand so many of these philosophical terms per-se; perhaps I need to start paying more attention in class instead of seeing how many song lyrics I can fit in the smallest margin of my note-book while everyone else is discussing issues which they deem far more important but most of which I, frankly, find a lot less interesting. Not because I’m plain stupid but because I don’t propound myself to be an ‘intellectual’ (whatever that word is supposed to mean!) in a way that I’m not…I’m sorry if I don’t quote Ghalib in every second point I raise, or use religion as a scapegoat for every opinion I have or speak without caring if it’s relevant to any matter at hand! Today there seemed to be a general consensus on the claim that you need to have pain in order to understand happiness – in other words, you need to know one emotion if you want to realise its opposite. There was some dissent, but most people seemed to agree with the proposition…it got me thinking and I still can’t relate to it completely… hurt is hurt and happiness is happiness – what more is there to it?

But, in the end, it’s all words. It’s all just darned words. Meaningless letters forcibly adjoined to give names to the unfathomable. Don’t think I am underestimating the power of a single word even…words are my own domain. I relish within them, and am lost without them. I toy around with them as much as I want, and they won’t let go. I know they won’t stop being mine – ever. I hold them sacred, revere them, glorify them, breathe them…and yet, they fail me.

They fail me, and leave me helpless. And then feelings within cannot find expression. Misery and anguish remains rampant, desire and want cloaked, ecstasy and wonder useless. I want to but I cannot word my anxiety. I cannot explain my concern, nor even show it. I care and I care and I care… but it is all left futile.

Concern, love, adoration…all rendered useless. Never reaching the person they are meant for. Lost in the middle of nowhere. Diluted and forgotten. Like rivulets of sand shimmering through fingers and carried away by the insensitive winds…leaving nothing, not even their scars…

disillusioned

2006-04-15T20:35:00.000+05:00

My heart is unbearably heavy, and I'm not sure why. I just want to fall into someone's arms and cry. Let go of reason. Escape from reality. Until I know I can face everything again.

At times like this I feel guilty. And thankless. My life is perfect. Happy family, good university...all the important stuff. I have no right to complain. No right at all. I should thank God for every little blessing a million times a day, and even that wouldn't be enough. I know and yet I want to cry. For being a shallow person, for being ungrateful. I don't have the courage to change myself, to accept things as they are...to learn to live knowing that you can't have everything you want. I'm not sure what's going on. I'm uncontrollably crazy and hyper and, at the same time, I'm in mourning. My soul laments and cries in misery, while I talk and gossip and laugh on the outside.

Does that make me double-faced? Am I a hypocrite? Does that mean I'm self-obsessed? Or, maybe, do I just need a friend in my life...?

Chain of Fools

2006-02-27T04:36:00.000+05:00

I’ve been wanting to post on my blog for the past few days, but somehow I could not get myself to write…forget worthwhile, I just could not write anything at all. I wonder if it’s writer’s bloc, or merely that I’m way too lazy to do anything properly these days. Anyhow, I wanted to post tonight so I thought I might as well just list down whatever’s been going on for the past few days...

For those who still don’t know, exams FINALLY ended!!!! In fact, it’s been about three days now since the last exam, and I couldn’t be more relieved. Right after that microeconomics paper I spent the next 24 hours in a hyper frenzy … anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch me on msn during that time can testify my eccentricity and craziness! :) Anyway, so that means that I hereby officially declare myself as a one-eighth lums graduate! Haha… yes yes I DO realise that such a term does not exist and, even if it did, my second quarter result is yet to be determined. In other words, there does exist the possibility that I fail some course and have to repeat, or that the final exams get left out in the rain and are washed away, or that bolan loses it completely and messes up our grades, or that the universe simply comes to an end and, thus, I never get this quarter’s result! However me being the hopeless, unwavering optimist that I am, I choose to believe that the chances of any of the above occurrences actually taking place are miniscule. Of course, I’m implying that these probabilities do not take into consideration the last possibility I mentioned above because that event is very much expected in the very near future! But other than the universe collapsing one bright sunny morning, other afore mentioned potential (and more grave) disasters are not about to happen! *crosses her fingers*

On another ‘high’ note, STAR WORLD IS BACKKKK!!! Yeah, I know it’s been almost a week now but I reckon I still haven’t completely recovered from the shock or happiness. I know that my mother was not very amused to be woken up from deep slumber in the middle of the night by the sound of a hooligan shrieking absurdly somewhere in the vicinity of her bedroom, and that she was even less amused to find out that the hooligan was, in fact, one of her own descendants. However, the discovery of the ‘return of star world’ is such sheer joy that its profundity can not be conveyed to such beings…after all, what would these lesser mortals understand of the importance of this channel in someone’s life?!?

And, incase any one of you are pondering over a similar question, fear not for I am about to explain. Star World is back…therefore, AMERICAN IDOL IS BACK!!! Wooohoooo!!!! That, in itself, is a cause to celebrate. And I have been doing so religiously ever since. After all, the wrath of unimportant individuals in my life (like parents, for instance) does not scare me when I already understand where my true loyalties lie.

Furthermore, ‘American Idol back on television’ also reminds me that Carrie will be appearing on the results show this week….ah yes! Yet another reason for a devoted fan to lose her mind in desperate anticipation. *sigh* At times like this when I remember that there have been countless instances in the past where I have sat alone in hopeless misery wondering what my purpose in life is, it just makes me laugh! How could I have been SO clueless?!?!

Ohkayyy, I just realised suddenly that this post has taken an extremely bizarre turn. All the serious stuff about next quarter’s courses and the weekend trip to Gujranwala and the debate about whether I should join the ‘Reading Circle’ at university and the fact that I got my mobile’s gprs activated and it’s a rip-off never came up anywhere. Oh, and also the dilemma about whether to join violin classes or classical dance lessons. Oh well, another time I guess because this has gotten pretty long as it is. I’m sorry folks, now you’ll have to go search for your own entertainment for ‘tis late now and I have a very busy schedule planned for myself for tomorrow…I must be well-rested in order to be fresh enough to thoroughly enjoy and lose myself in yet another day of doing absolutely nothing tomorrow!

Life goes on...

2006-02-20T06:17:00.000+05:00

Over the past two years, not a day has gone by when I don’t think of Amna. If she were still here, I doubt I would’ve said that last sentence. It’s just so ironic how you really realise someone’s worth only when they’re no longer there with you.

We were getting to know each other a whole lot better during those days, but I still couldn’t be counted as one of her closest friends. But when she left, it drastically changed something in my life too. My perspective, I think. The way I looked at death altered overnight, and the value and certainty of life almost faded away for a long time. It’s been quite a while but the effect hasn’t completely gone. It won’t. Ever. Seeing death, feeling it, hearing about it no longer affects me in the same way. It’s not that the fear is gone, or the sorrow. But it’s just a very different feeling deep down. It can’t really be described.

There are so many regrets in life, but one of the greatest is not having spent more time with Amna when she was still here. Sometimes I unconsciously feel that if I’d known her better, been a better friend, felt her misery earlier…maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe. I know it’s an illogical, irrational, senseless feeling but sometimes it still lingers.

Thinking about Amna would always make me cry until I realised that she’s probably happier up there…wherever she is. That’s what I’m going to choose to believe. And pray. Even if I’m not sure these days if I believe in the miracle of prayer, she might have believed. Remembering her is now peaceful, not sad. And Amna, if you look down on us sometimes I hope you know that netball isn’t half as much fun without you! ;)

As they say, life still goes on. So it does. And it always will. The world doesn’t stop for anyone’s misery ‘cause if it did time would come to a standstill. Even my life hasn’t stopped. But memories live on even if people don’t…they may be merciless and torturous often, but sometimes they’re all you have to hold on to. And when you’re helpless, sometimes you’ll hold on to the weakest link you have. And that’s what I’m going to do tonight.

My heart has a sinking feeling... and I know that it is not love.

2006-02-18T03:06:00.000+05:00

All I want to do right now is cry. Cry without shame… and cry until all the hurt goes away. From every core of my being, from every corner of my soul. Until I exhaust every single dram of energy my body could possibly contain, until I know that I have dried up inside. For all that has gone wrong, for all that will go wrong when tomorrow begins. Till my head throbs and my heartbeat turns so slow from the effort that it might stop, till my soul sets free.

And then my mind will be weary and somnolent, but my existence rekindled. There will be no more pain, and no more regret. No more remorse, and no more repentance. My spirit will be cleansed… pure and untainted, forgiven and at peace.

So that I may wake up to sin again.

I don't know what to say...

2006-02-16T18:32:00.000+05:00

We lost the ODI series :'(

My soul had been stirred...

2006-02-15T18:29:00.000+05:00

Today I re-learnt the beauty of music. It was a lesson worth the wait.

I sat there watching in silence. Feeling like an unwanted beginner being introduced to a new world. Feeling like an intruder breaking into sacred ground. I didn't want to, yet I thought that I should probably leave. But something compelled me to stay. It took a few minutes for the enchantment to begin...for the magic to touch me.

First, I had been watching. Then I went on to listening. But now I saw. The pulsating beat of the drum as it provided the backbone to the music. The drumsticks spelling out its guidance. The bass echoing its accompaniment, its vibrations low and soothing. And the guitar. So apparently different and yet so close to the steady beats. So complicated, yet so simple if you just stared at the fingers...caressing the strings ever so gently, but knowingly. Stroking them so lovingly, yet unyieldingly. Almost as if gliding over the guitar, giving it sound. Slow, and then fast. Ever so fast. Flying over the strings, up and down...up and down. Leading the magic. Steering it single-handedly. And then the room itself. Merging the three sounds together as if they were meant to be. As if they were, in reality, simply one. Untainted. Ethereal.

Those few minutes probably passed by in a little while. In that short time, I might've lived an eternity... and then returned to earth. The feeling is inexplicable; the emotion unfathomable. Still. It came for its time, and it took me away with it. To soar. To imagine. To dream. And...to believe.

I wanted time to stand still. From now until eternity. And then some more. And it still wouldn't be enough. The purity of those moments were undiscovered till then. Unknown to me. I remained as still and silent as I had been since I sat down but deep within, it was just as different... heart dipped and soared uncontrollably, spirit roused with a mind of its own. Fear and serenity became one, while happiness and misery were no longer two separate words. When melancholy was painful, yet peaceful. When music became agony. And I realised that agony was beautiful.

My soul had been stirred.

And just as suddenly, it all ended. The music stopped, and the magic of the moment faded away. Back to other world where it came from. It was as if I had woken up from a dream only to find myself back in the same world. The same place as always. The same people as ever.

I was back to the same despair, the same helplessness, the same hurt. The very same. A few moments later, the music started again. But I knew that I had lived my time in that room. Now, it was time to leave.

Take it away...please! Just take it all away..

2006-02-14T21:53:00.000+05:00

Someone, somehow...please just make it all go away!! I go down on my knees in desperation...begging, pleading, crying. I scream, I yell, I shout...for someone. Anyone. No one comes. No one can hear me. Or maybe they can. Still, no one comes. No one at all. Is it a sign? Is it some sort of an indication?...I don't know. I can't think straight, no matter how hard I try. Nothing makes sense any more. I'm trapped within this whirlwind of emotions...each more morbid than the last one. Each leaving me more drained and in so much more pitiful, meaningless, wretched sorrow and despair than the last one. I just want it all to end! But I can't make it.

I know I've tried...determinedly at first, and now half-heartedly. Is it time to give up? 'Give up on what?' a voice in my mind questions from far away...I don't know. I just don't know anything anymore. Am I really a failure? Already? But I had so much to live for. Had...not have. The present already seems to be a part of the past. My past. It was once mine, I tell them. But they no longer believe me. It was once mine, I plead again. But in vain. They say that I have nothing left to live for. I fall silent, for there is nothing I can say to that. Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. For I know they are right.

What is happening to me? I don't know. I'm searching for answers to questions unasked; I already know it is a futile quest. It will end in even more misery. Is that even possible? I don't know. Will it end? Will I ever be able to overcome it...will I ever be able to put an end to it? Or will it end me first? I don't know. But maybe I don't care either. Not anymore. Right now, right here...nothing matters anymore.

This is it. This is how it will end. With me writhing and screaming in pain... surrounded by people. No one will even turn to look. No one will come close to hold me. No one will shed a tear at the pitiful sight. No one will even ask what is wrong...for no one wants to know. No one will listen. Is it really time to give up on it all? Already? So soon?

I really don't know!

Or is it all a mere figment of my over-active imagination? Is this, in fact, what they call 'reality'? Perhaps. Am I the one who was been a fool all along? Am I just too darn weak to face it all? Is this my destiny? Is it all my own fault...my own doing? No one is ready to answer that even...

What happens next? I wish I knew...oh how I wish I just knew...!!!

Tomorrow will be a new day

2006-02-11T01:49:00.000+05:00

In a dark, almost-hidden corner of the room, she smiles. It is not a happy gesture. That one simple unconscious moment goes by unnoticed...untouched...untainted. No one gives it a second thought. In fact, few give it any thought at all. Even she, herself, is unable to fathom the depth of expression and vulnerability that was evident in those few seconds, had anyone cared enough to notice. She sees a young toddler run by, giggling, and the purity of the child's innocence and joy make her smile again. Still, she doesn't realise, it is an expression fraught with her despair...her misery, her anguish...she thinks she has buried it all, she thinks it can not surface, she believes she has left it in some corner of her soul so many layers deep that it can not be touched anymore. In her simplicity, she has no idea that her pain is evident in her every move...her fear, subtle but omnipresent, in her every gesture...

Sometimes, she wonders how life might have been had it been any different. Other times, she can not imagine things any differently no matter how much she wants to. Or needs to.

No one pays any attention as she quietly gets up, makes her way to the door, and gently treads outside barefoot. The midnight hour casts its eerie moon-lit shadows on the grass, but to her it is so much more comforting than the presence of those people she has left inside. The dark hues of the night seem tender and unthreatening...the silhouettes soft and warm, despite the chilly breeze surrounding the house... the quietness of the pitch-black night a stark and welcome constrast from the world as she knows it.

For a while she just walks in circles, aware only of the frightened beating of her heart and then of the cool, dewy grass she is treading upon. Wet and fresh. Deliciously fresh. She just walks and walks on, one foot after the other, unknowest of what it is that she is searching for. She doesn't know. She doesn't want know.

Hours, or maybe minutes, later, for she has no idea how long she's been out there...she stops. The incessant walking has left her slightly breathless, the cold wind has numbed her cheeks and hands.

Breathing heavily she starts spinning. Slowly first, with her eyes wide open, staring at the world as it begins to go round, and then fast...faster and faster...with arms spread out wide and the cold piercing through her soul, chilly and brutal until it freezes her spirit. Yet she doesn't stop. She closes her eyes, not just against the trees and walls surrounding her, but against the whole world. She feels time stand still. Yet she doesn't stop. A sudden bout of nausea hits her and she realises for a second that she might throw up. Yet she doesn't stop. Faster and faster she spins. Faster and faster...until she can hear nothing, not even her own ragged breath... until she can think of nothing, focus on absolutely nothing... until she can see nothing, not even the void behind her closed lids... until she can feel nothing except God's presence...

She crashes to the ground, too dizzy to comprehend anything for a long time. The beads of sweat mingle with the bittersweet tears coursing down her numb cheeks, and she can not make out the difference between the two. She lies there until her breathing returns to normal, and her heart starts beating at its normal pace once again. She does not understand what came over her just minutes ago. Somehow she realises that she is not meant to understand. Not now. Not yet.

Her spirit cleansed and her heart reborn, she quietly and calmly makes her way back... to the dark, almost-hidden corner of the room. No one notices her return.

A strange aura of serenity descends upon her. It is an odd, unknown feeling. Unexplored territory. But she senses that it was meant to be. For the first time in her life, she does not feel threatened. Rather, she knows she is at peace. With herself. With her world. The thought makes her smile...

But it is a happy gesture.

'A Fine Balance'

2006-02-07T19:39:00.000+05:00

Yesterday, I finished reading 'A Fine Balance'. I haven't been able to decide yet whether it was a good decision or a foolhardy one. On one hand, it was an enjoyable affair, especially the spasmodic intervals which held me captivated and intrigued. However, in retrospect, there is simply so much that left me cold. Too much, perhaps. So many characters' ends so sudden and brutal...almost as if mocking the glory of their beings, almost as if jeering at their mere right to existence...

I didn't want to symapthise with his characters, for pitying them would be condescending. I have no reason to be so.

I don't even say that my disagreement lies within the claim that so many of the characters died, leaving me sad; rather, it lies within the staunch belief that Rohinton Mistry simply opted for the easy way out. After nurturing his characters for hundreds of pages, he then needed to leave them standing at the brink of their futures - whether bleak or optimistic remains his duty and right, not mine. But after having guided them all along, making them tread the paths of their lives so carefully and lovingly, after watching them grow and evolve, I felt that leaving them in the manner he chose to suggests abandoning them - giving up on them. It seems disrespectful, and they deserved better. That's all that saddened me. His decision to leave his main characters either dead under trains, murdered by lunatics or simply in utmost despair and poverty despite their toiling hard all their lives... I still believe he ended his story in a way that was just so easy for him to write about, without giving much thought to how fitting those endings would seem to his readers...and I do wish he hadn't spoilt his book like that!

Anyway, I'm ending this post on a thoroughly unrelated note. I just realised it's February 7...three and a half hours left for it to end at this very moment. The date stands out in my mind right now because a friend has been dreading yet anticipating it for quite a while. I wonder if anything expected or wanted (or even unexpected or unwanted!) has come out of the day yet...I have no idea, but all I know is that I really, really hope it doesn't turn out to be a let-down in any sense! :)

starts with goodbye...

2006-02-01T19:28:00.000+05:00

Today I listened to 'Wish You Were Here' by Pink Floyd...and I really wished that you were here.

The strangest part is that when I say this, I have no idea who 'you' is supposed to be. Because there is no one in particular I was thinking of. No one at all... even when I tried to think. No one. Not a friend, not a foe, not anyone else.

Maybe one day I will know. Because, maybe one day, there will be someone...anyone. Someone who I can sit with in complete silence and yet feel all my worries slowly drift away. Where explanations are not necessary. Where the absence of words is sometimes so much more beautiful and comforting than words of consolation. When the most depressing and sinister conversations leave you feeling oddly serene. When the thought of loneliness makes you smile... smile because you know it is a feeling so far away that it cannot touch you. Not now at least. Maybe some other time. But definitely not now.

...yes, I know it is all just meaningless talk right now. Mere folly, one might say. But no harm in futile thinking, right? After all, who knows what tomorrow brings....

Untitled

2006-01-22T21:09:00.000+05:00

Hot tears coursing down frozen cheeks, unashamed and unstoppable. Their raison d'être remains an unyielding mystery, yet it doesn't mean that they cease to be for a long, long time. When it ends, I am as miserable as I was. The hostile truth that hurt no longer flows away, diluted within the rivulets of tears is painful to accept....

this weekend has been torturingly wretched; for some reason, I still don't want it to end. Anything to keep me away from the 'usual' life.

I don't remember very specifically how things were when last year kicked in, but I think (or like to perhaps!) that I started the year on a high. 365 days later that is as far from the present truth as is possible. This new year has marked an all new low note, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. Sometimes the inexplicable loneliness and helplessness - and friendlessness -seem almost too difficult to bear, and I wish I could somehow find my way out....

Somewhere during the last year I even went through a horrific 'I don't want to go to LUMS' phase. I never tried explaining the reasons to anyone, simply because I already knew that no one could possibly relate or understand. Except for one person. Except for my only friend.

Ammar always knew and, surprisingly, he never made fun of me even once. Throughout that period of inexplicable fear, bordering on irrationality at times I must admit, the support and understanding never wavered. Unspoken promises were made. Countless assurances. Invaluable reassurances. Repeated conversations that would take the same course...he'd say that university-life was amazing, the best time of one's life. I'd always laugh in response and argue, 'naheeeen bhai, it won't be all that great and uncomplicated! I know I'll hate it!' Aagey se, he'd just smile and say, 'no, I know better than you little sister! I promise I'll make it all special for you...I've told you na I'll be there to make all the scary times bearable and fun. Tum aao tu sahi, phir khud hee dekh lena!' Bus, he'd say that and I would be assured.

...so far, as far as fulfilling all those one-time promises is concerned, he's done a simply remarkable and exemplary job...

the right answer

2006-01-21T16:32:00.000+05:00

Khurram Uncle arrived late last night. Abbu picked him up from the railway station and brought him home around 10:30pm or so. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to him because I was hopelessly engrossed in 'Kartography' which I had made the mistake of starting just a few minutes before he came; I slept early too. I really hope I get to talk to him for a while tonight, or tomorrow morning. He's one of those very rare adults who make you feel like an equal when they talk to you. That's one of the things I really love about him because, other than my parents, hardly any grown-up makes me feel as if they're truly 'listening' to or giving any serious thought to whatever I'm saying. Last time I met him was in Pindi, a couple of months ago. As always, he asked me what major I was inclined towards and, as always, I smiled and candidly said, "I'm not really sure yet." Those five simple words signified my genuine confusion, yet saying them in front of him did not fill me with the usual dread...whenever any grown-up asks me this question (and they often do!) I can already hear the disapproving lilt in their speech which'll soon creep into the following conversation; it never fails!

If I say I haven't decided yet, there follows an indirect lecture on how I'm wasting precious time by being so indecisive. Sometimes, if I dare to elaborate my answer in a nervous attempt to prove that I do at least give the matter serious thought often, worse fate follows! Upon hearing that a major in Social Sciences is something that I am genuinely considering because the subjects invovled deeply interest me, a response is elicited that can not veil the horror in the eyes of my listener. The shame of knowing a youngster who claims to not know, or care much, about her future job prospects ('I don't know what specific sort of job I'll get, but I'm sure there'll be something!') is obvious even if it is not specifically stated. Similarly, the option of majoring in Maths is immediately scorned, and often not even taken seriously enough to invoke a proper response; the grown-up involved usually believes that such an idea is mere folly, and I'll gain my senses myself soon enough. The one answer that receives some appreciation seems to be the probable concept of a major in Economics, but even here there are obstinate differences between the two views. The only reason I would choose this major would be because it is a subject that genuinely interests me... the curiousity that arises and then the satisfaction that I often feel after understanding some previously-unknown concept well enough to appreciate its subtlety is actually enjoyable at times! On the other hand, according to those asking me about my future subject plans, the only reason to opt for Economics is because it potentially promises good financial gains in the long run!

Bottom line is, this is an issue I have been honestly confused and, since recently, worried about because even though 'officially' I still have ample time to make any decision, it is rather unnerving watching everyone else around me know what to do with their education. Besides, not knowing just makes me uncomfortable. I don't like not knowing the 'right' answer to such questions!

On a lighter (and thoroughly unrelated!) note, Asad just told me that his harmonium is due very soon; in fact, within the next day or two he thinks. I sure hope so. He's been waiting so enthusiastically that it's beginning to infect me too, I reckon. I can't wait for it to be ready so that he can bring it...to a home where it will really belong!! :)

déja vu

2006-01-14T23:37:00.000+05:00

Last night as I lay awake in bed for countless hours, unable to fall asleep, the sounds of the world gradually began to fade away until they eventually plunged into eerie silence; finally, only the ticking of the wall-clock remained and it soon became ominously loud. I needed to go to sleep and I wanted to as well, but it was as if some mysterious supernatural force was preventing the much-needed slumber. As I continued to lie there in complete silence with the sound of my own breath ringing shallow and ragged in my ears, the futility and frustration of the situation took me back to another time, just months old...

...sometimes the accident seems like it was a whole lifetime ago, so far away from reality that it may never have happened. Other times, it feels like the nightmare was merely yesterday, and the loneliness and fear of those days become hauntingly alive all over again.

Last night, it was the latter.

Suddenly, the flood of terrifying memories rushes back uninvited and unwanted, threatening to overwhelm. The screams that pierced that night now reverberate their unwelcome echoes in my awaiting ears. The image of blood, red and glorious, gushing down the face fearlessly - and almost gracefully - flashes past my eyes once again, leaving me nauseated yet thankful. Each recollection that follows is equal in its grotesque vividness and painful reality.

The misery and confusion that engulfed over the next few days now resurfaces to capture and suffocate again. The realisation of being stranded on an endless, deserted plain with no one to hear the desperate pleas for help returns. I am still held captive by the same shackles that now strain to confine me as I beg for freedom...for mercy...for humanity...... none is granted!

Finally, silence reigns once again.

As the first notes of sunrise begin to appear, the room is gently stroked in the tender, warm hues of morning. I turn to stare into the mirror and the faint yet harsh traces of the scars etched across my face glare back stubbornly. The doctors said they would disappear soon; I knew better even then.

Often I look up to the skies and ask, "Is this all really how You meant it to be?" Unconsciously I wait for some sort of an answer, but none comes.

Sometimes I think even He doesn't have the time to listen to me anymore.

back to the pavilion

2006-01-12T20:51:00.000+05:00

I don't know what makes me feel this way, but Eid was quite different this time round...and I'm not sure either if it was good-different or bad-different. We went to Gujranwala on Monday evening and got back home hardly 20 minutes ago. I left Lahore all hyper and expectant, and I've come back extremely unwell and down spirited.

Having been battling half-heartedly against a very high fever, horrible flu, terrible aches n' pains for the past two days, I'm now genuinely worried...worried because the fear of going back to classes and mid-terms in a matter of just three days is now looming large over me like an ominous shadow. Generally, I do not fret over my exams in such a pathetic way but this time it's a different situation altogether! Three consecutive mids next week...and filhaal, I am just way too sick to even try studying; I even summoned up the courage to open my economics book last night but my brain was too woollen and fuzzy to actually comprehend how to calculate even the probabilities of mixed strategies game theory!

I even feel like I've lost my touch (whatever li'l I had!) at writing...*sigh*...May God help me!

a crappy start to the day...

2006-01-09T13:39:00.000+05:00

What do you do when......

all you want to do is tell someone that you really care, that you want to be there for them, that you wish they would trust you, that you want more than anything for them to be able to talk to you about what's keeping them down, that you really really want to be a friend....but you just don't have the guts and courage to tell them!!

....I've cried in frustration, gotten angry at myself in desperation, tried convincing myself to go ahead and tell them that I want to listen, but I just CAN NOT!! I mean, what's the worse that can happen? That person will think I'm completely idiotic, never talk to me again and steer clear of me for ever, but at least I'll know that I tried to be a friend when they needed one...

but I still just can't!!

*sigh* is this new year already jinxed?!

regret...

2006-01-06T23:50:00.000+05:00

I’ve always believed that regret is one of the most difficult and torturous feelings one can have to deal with. Ironically, knowing this has never caused me to give myself less opportunities to regret something I said or did – or lack of them. Even when I have pondered over the possible dire consequences of something that I want to do and I know it’ll definitely prove to be a risky venture, all of a sudden I’ll give in to all resistances and plunge ahead…even if it means that I might spend the next few days or weeks drowning in wretched regret. I often do.

The latest case of my troublesome spontaneity occurred only yesterday, so tonight is just the beginning of another long haul of wanting to bang my head in the wall purely out of frustration and anger at my own idiotic ness. I spent two whole days, prior to yesterday, simply weighing my options – should I not take any risks and just live without knowing the truth about something that has been irking and puzzling me, or should I succumb to my insatiable curiosity in order to proceed with my careful sleuthing? It sounds terribly vague right now, but I dare not delve into the grotesque details :) The risk of losing the battle of wills to my curio may sound even more foolish to an impartial observer, but to me it mattered a lot– and still does! The fear of creating a false, untrue impression of myself in front of someone who doesn’t know me well was supreme; the opinion they would be bound to form of me after my little inquisitiveness-session would certainly be derogatory, and I would be unjustified to blame them for it. So… in other words, I had a lot to lose, and next to nothing to gain…

Knowing all that, yesterday I faltered – as usual!! I purposely caused someone to think I am strange and peculiar… and just plain weird! Most people I know will say that I shouldn’t care about what other people think of me, because their opinions don’t matter…I already know that! Usually, it really doesn’t make any difference. But sometimes it does. With some people, it’s just different. What they think of me does concern me and I can’t help it…

But I lost the chance I had…I caused a permanent scar, which I know I will regret for a long, long time. The regret shrouds me tighter and tighter like a relentless vise that does not let go, no matter how much I beg and plead. It is suffocating, it is merciless. I try to forget and run away but it does not let me. It mocks at me as I raise my hands in desperation, begging for it to go away. It jeers at my futile efforts to wipe it from my soul…it is immortal, invincible in its unparalleled glory…...

while I am only human.

random musings...incoherent ramblings...

2006-01-06T00:50:00.000+05:00

Sitting hunched in front of the computer right now, dressed in a shockingly weird attire that consists of my lumun t-shirt and the green shalwar I was wearing this morning, accompanied by a beat-up old sweater and a shawl wrapped around my head and a hot water bottle in my lap (for anyone who’s wondering…no, this is NOT my everyday wear; such fancies are reserved for special occasions only! :P) I’m wondering in utter confusion what compelled me to say all that glorious stuff about winters and its mornings just the other day!!? I mean, what on earth was I thinking?! It is that same oh-so beautiful chill that has bestowed me with this oh-so desirable flu…not to mention the splitting headache, inability to breathe and stinging throat that constitute the complimentary part of the package!

Thanks to this pathetic plight of mine caused so mercilessly by the weather, I managed to accomplish a new feat yesterday - I royally messed up three ENTIRE quizzes… within a span of 6 short hours, to be precise! Commendable effort, if I may allow myself to say so! Oh alright, I’ll admit I’m looking for illogical excuses to indulge myself in self-pity…the 3-quiz catastrophe was caused by a simple mixture of brain malfunction, lack of preparation and sheer blindness when attempting the questions! *shudder* That sure was painful acceptance. But to my credit, the economics quiz was one which I had ACTUALLY studied for…quite a bit, in fact, so it was honestly a touch disappointing.

Oh well, who really cares – filhaal, I have a mid coming up in less than 48 hours so I should be focusing my energy and mind (whatever’s left of it, at least, after the thrashing it’s been enduring at the hands of four brutal courses and a sickening flu!) on all the possible ways of screwing that up! Now THAT’S what I call meticulous utilisation of precious time, right?!

Anyway, what I’ve been blabbering on about for the last few minutes isn’t even remotely connected to anything that’s really on my mind tonight. What is actually bothering me is nothing that can be explained or expressed. What plagues me is a mixture of fear and guilt…what of, they ask? I don’t really know myself. I wish I did though. This constant worry, this incessant anguish is uncalled for. It is troublesome yet strangely comforting. I feel confused about so much, yet I cannot search for answers. Tonight, I have little hopes and dreams… I know they will not last, yet I hang on to them. I don’t know what is happening. I don’t know what is about to happen. I don’t know what it is that I am waiting for, but I know it is something…and here, alone, I wait…scared but outwardly indifferent, thrilled but curiously detached, deserted but hauntingly calm…when the time comes, I will know…

April 22, 2005 (part2)

2005-12-30T14:15:00.000+05:00

(continued from before...)

Till a few days ago I prided myself on reaching a place within myself where nothing you said or did concerned me any longer. I became invincible to the pain and hurt you'd made me grow accustomed to. I could pass by you without even a flicker of recognition, without wincing at the sharp throb that used to jolt my heart to remind me of my plight, without having to look away to hide the tears that always used to prick my eyelids at the countless memories...yes, I definitely thought I was ready to leave you behind as a mere part of my past which was now dead to me. I had achieved closure. Or so I thought. In the haste to erradicate those two years so that life could go on, I had managed to overlook one simple fact - I still cared about you. Despite thinking repeatedly in a futile attempt to convince myself that you were less than human, that you had never really cared, that you weren't even worth it anymore, deep down I did care! And I still do...

Unfortunately I am only human so I can't protect myself against the natural instincts of being concerned about those who are (or were) important to me. I can harden my heart against the world and not let any weakness of emotion show to others, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist inside. And every once in a while those emotions swell so ruthlessly that the once dormant ocean of feelings churns like the choppy seas, strangling and choking as it plows along... leaving me helpless, scared and alone. At that time, there is no way out. I am forcibly held captive within the realms of loneliness, where no one can listen or understand - and no one wants to.

You always knew how much you meant to me. You always knew that you truly were the first, and only, person in my life who I considered to be a REAL friend. That was because you taught me how to trust. I let go of logic and reason, and believed you. You told me to have faith in you. I did. You made empty promises, and I was reassured. You said you'd never change, you'd always be there no matter what, you'd never let go... I thought you meant every word you said, because I did. Every word I ever said, every promise I ever made, every bond I swore to keep - I meant it with my heart and soul. I still do.

Today, as I stand at this cross-road staring at the horizon, it has never felt this far away. My world and your world are now two separate places. This is how you wanted it, and this is how it has turned out. Ironically, all the regret tortures me alone. Not you. I know you're happy but I can't find within myself the strength to be happy for you. Not now. Not yet. The wounds are still too fresh, the hurt still prone to surface at the slightest indication. You are walking to someplace and the moment you see me you simply stop, turn around and change your path. Sometimes your indifference evokes mere disgust, sometimes anger, sometimes unconcern and sometimes I just want to run away and bury myself in some hidden corner of this world and just cry yet again...cry for all that I lost, for all that you've lost but don't know it, for all the cherished memories which are now just meaningless voids in my mind mocking me, for all the special moments that only friends can know and feel and share, for all the empty promises that were to be fulfilled when I came to university...for everything that ever mattered.

Maybe one day I will be strong enough to actually achieve closure. Maybe one day I will be able to find within my heart the sincerity to be grateful to God when you're happy. Maybe one day I'll want to trust someone again. Maybe one day someone else will say they care about me and actually mean it. Maybe one day I will find a 'friend'. Maybe...

But you know what the true irony is? Despite everything, that one email of yours permanently changed one thing. Even now whenever I listen to 'yaad'...it still makes me cry...

foggy mornings

2005-12-23T08:45:00.000+05:00

I'm definitely not a morning person but foggy, blistery, winter early mornings are somehow an explanation for my eccentricity...

I started my day to a Bo Bice song instead of the customary sound of Carrie Underwood in the car with me belting out my off-key accompaniment, I tried to logically reason that it was not idiotic if I wanted to give a beggar-uncle money at the Jail Road-Canal intersection because I found him cute, I had a very serious (and seemingly normal at that time!) discussion about whether that white-ish, golden-ish 'thing' hanging in the sky partially subdued by the thick mist was the sun or the moon, I explained that taking in deep breaths when it's just cold and when it's also foggy yield totally different results, I thoroughly enjoyed the walk from the parking lot to the warm labs in the library building despite chattering teeth and my frozen self and, as ashamed as it makes me now to admit it, I even claimed that I was looking forward to studying microeconomics over the weekend!

...And all this achieved in just over an hour of being awake!

But I also thanked God for the millionth time for making me live in Lahore, where the most secretive, misty, mind-numbingly chilly, so-called depressing mornings and late nights of the winter months make me feel more alive than anything else in the world. The beauty of the morbid silence and loneliness that engulfs when treading the dewy grass or frosty paths is uncomparable; the biting, brutal cold that pierces through the warm layers of sweaters deep down into the soul and spreads through the body like poison is a much more heart-warming feeling than all the love in the world...am I merely an unconventional individual? Or do wintry mornings actually make me crazy?!!

lumun'05

2005-12-17T20:44:00.000+05:00

I noticed that most of the people whose blogs I read have made a post about their lumun experience. Not wanting to be left behind, I decided to make my own contribution to the aspect even if it's kind of late now. But instead of a usual post I'm going to list down the stuff that the experience taught me.

So, in no particular order, the top 15 lessons that I learnt during LUMUN'05 are that :-

1. the PDC machine will always overflow the cup when you're trying to make cappucino, so you have to rely purely on your reflexes to snatch it away in that split second which defines the thin line between the perfect combination of coffee n' milk and a huge mess!

2. people that you've known very well all your life will turn against you all of a sudden and resort to low, underhand tactics if it's convenient for them even if it potentially means ruining your reputation.

3. I finally know the exact locations of each of the auditoriums in the academic block - a feat that I am understandably proud of because most people I know can only differentiate between the two floors. Oh n' this addition to my knowledge is all thanks to my director :)

4. when you spend 12 hours a day with people you've never seen before, you do tend to bond.

5. the khoka coffee will burn your hand reaaalll bad if you don't use a double cup.

6. even though it sounds impossible, there do exist people who can manage, organise, handle the most absurd requests and problems, deal with weird delegates and their issues, listen to constant bickering around them and still run their part of the show so very efficiently and smoothly, without raising their voice at anyone even once throughout the five days! *points to her director again*

7. people you've known for only two days can turn out to be truly inspirational - the way they'll go out of their way to stick up for you is amazing, especially when you mean nothing to them because they don't even know you all that well. (this one is actually for one particular person who i love for being on my side on the whole committee-changing issue...even though she probably doesn't even know why the issue was so important to me and how much her support meant!)

8. spray paint does set off the fire alarm :P

9. ms-powerpoint isn't a useless software; it has so many more functions than I ever fathomed!

10. it's a pretty good feeling knowing that you were able to ensure that a deserving person got some credit, even if it was indirect, for all the work they've done...and an even better feeling knowing that by doing so you robbed someone else, who's a mere pretentious act, of some limelight :D (and I swear that having a father who's a journalist wanting to conduct several interviews has absolutely nothing to do with anything i just implied! hehe)

11. the football field is huger than it seems! (anyone who doesn't believe me should make several trips to the warehouse...I'll be stunned if they still disagree!)

12. first impressions are often false.

13. paper cutters do not destroy textured carpets. (again, anyone whose view differs is welcome to try it out for themself in SC-2!)

14. some cats are extremely destructive, disgusting, totally un-cute and too stubborn to be scared of human beings.

15. the female population in lumun can all, with the exception of me of course, prove to be extremely blind and ridiculous when it comes to going crazy over a particular guy! (remember the 'Counter Terrorism' committee director anyone?! for God's sake ladies...ab tu saarey maan jao that he was not hot!!!)

*sigh* but at the end I hafta say that lumun was probably the most fun I've had in a long, long time (a probable reason could be that I just have a very sad life)...now all I need is the courage to start speaking up in front of a room full of people, and then I might have the guts to enter the intra-lums MUN next year!...I seriously doubt it though...*sigh*

April 22, 2005 (part1)

2005-12-16T08:58:00.000+05:00

The last sentence in your e-mail told me to listen to 'yaad'...it was supposed to be one last e-mail from you, marking the beginning of our self-imposed ban on talking to one another. Had I known what was to happen just months later, I would never have gone back to being in touch just weeks later. In retrospect, I realise that the futility of that decision and the hasty implementation couldn't have lasted long...we would miss each other too much. But we learnt that the hard way and finally concluded that it was time to reverse things. Little did I know, things would never be the same...

Those eight weeks had changed you, had changed what I meant to you but you never told me. In your mind, you had already degraded me from being your best friend to hardly meaning anything to you, but you never said a word. Perhaps you no longer wanted to spare me any hurt later...I'll never know! The pain, the turmoil, the arguing, the confusion of the next few months was never as apparent and simple to understand as it seems today. The trust you'd forced me to believe in over the past two years blinded me, and veiled the truth. No, you didn't admit it! But you had changed...

Why did it take you four days just to ask me how I was after the accident? That should have indicated something to me...

The misery became vivid, gradually the gap widened...you shoved me further n' further away until 5 weeks ago you made it very clear that everything was lost between us. You had no concern left for me...not as a friend, not even as a human. I was too tired and miserable to retaliate; I gave in silently and we haven't talked eversince...

I thought the pain would never end - the hurt, the despair, the confusion, the tears would never stop. But then just five days were enough to give me perspective...perspective that rang so brutal and true that I was surprised it had taken me so long to see things in such clear light. The way you acted over the quarter break was more than enough. Words weren't needed - the absence of them spoke greater volumes. Unexpectedly, your treatment didn't kill me more bit by bit; it disgusted me instead. The frustration changed to resentment, the tears of hurt into anger...anger so pure and forceful that it shocked me even. What you did probably wrecked the image people had of me. To some, I provided an honest explanation hoping that my sincerity would somehow shine through my eyes and convince them...to others, I said nothing hoping that they'd realise themselves that I had done no wrong. I don't know yet what they think of me...I won't ask. I can't.

(to be continued...!)

Change

2005-12-15T20:21:00.000+05:00

Sometimes I like to wonder what the purpose of my life is? I mean, assuming that everyone of us is sent down into this world for some sort of reason - to accomplish something in particular, perhaps, or to stop others from accomplishing something maybe! So, if I want to treat the whole concept purely logically, how am I supposed to place myself?? I ponder...I consider...at times, I even wish...but I have yet to uncover an answer...sometimes I think I was created merely as an ever-lasting reserve of comic relief, just to entertain those around me. But then I realise that even that is a pretty pompous assumption, and before I can come up with a more realistic reasoning of the dire situation I usually find myself enticed by some other equally useless philosophy of my life and that's the end of the 'i have a reason in life' debate!

Surprisingly, today I actually have a somewhat 'real' issue to mull over, if I may take the liberty of considering myself as a topic worthy enough for me to think about...

Actually it's a long story, and probably even more futile-sounding for those poor souls who accidentally lost their path and landed at my blog, so I won't delve into any details. Basically it was someone's curious reaction and expression to seeing me pass them by at university today that caught my attention. Someone who's an old friend's brother, which means that he's been seeing me for years...somehow the message in his fleeting glance was clear; it brought home to me that to an outside observer who's seen me many times before, I have changed. I don't know what about me has changed according to those who think I have, and I'm not even sure if it's true...but, despite not even knowing the authenticity of this opinion, it still saddens me inexplicably...the feeling is unbelievably haunting...confusing, worrying, diconcerting and even hurting....

Have I really changed so much in so little time??!...Or am I merely drowning myself in the search for answers to questions too vague to be conceived...or am I simply being stupid by choosing to think?

How I wish I knew...

And so it begins....

2005-12-13T00:06:00.000+05:00

I don't know what finally compelled me to create my own blog...was it the incessant insistence of some of my friends? Was it the urge to just do somethinggg with my life, no matter how useless? Was it the inherent desire to prove to the world that I, too, was born with the capability to write if I wanted to...or was it actually just to see how many people would be stupid enough to read my useless rantings?!!? *sigh* I wish I knew...and more than that, I really wish I knew what I should be writing here...after all, this is my FIRST post on my blog...people might actually read it...first impressions are important according to some, ain't they?!

Right now the first concern that pops into my mind is that I somehow need my 'probability' course book by tomorrow evening...for some reason, all the piracy-promoting stores in Lahore don't have this particular book! I have a quiz day after tomorrow, and I actually told me'self that I'd 'study' this quarter...yeah, I wanna make my parents proud of their 'freshie' daughter!! hehe...yuuup, this whole 'freshie' business! It's another big issue with me these days. Not really with ME actually, more with all those so-called we're-too-cool-for-you sophos and juniors who we've had the misfortune of getting to know thanks to lumun...they just like to believe it's their birth-right or moral obligation to bombard us with their spontaneous anti-'freshie' insults and sarcasm...as if we don't know that the real trouble is that they're too thick to learn our real names *smirk*...but they're our seniors and we ain't allowed to complain or retaliate...*sigh*...I question - is this miserable plight the true picture of an innocent freshman's destiny...???!

*disclaimer* Nothing in this post or the ones that'll follow is meant to offend anyone; everything has been said in a purely sarcastic (hopefully!) and friendly spirit, so please don't take it in any other way :) oh n' anyone who stumbled across this blog and is rolling their eyes right now, please do visit again...I promise I'll get better...c'mon, this was my first shot at it! :)