Wednesday, 8 December 2010
The winter breeze turns some more pages back to chapters engraved on my heart. Pages I want to remember but I don't want to recall. Life is such. You try avoiding regrets but they keep coming your way. You protect yourself and your loved ones from happenings not desired and yet they never stop the chase. You prefer to leave some pages of life's book, empty and spotless but somehow, things go out of control. Somehow you lose your balance on the tightrope of life and fall. Lying down, back aching and heart hurting, you still feel yourself breathing. You are still alive, surviving even after the fall. Life is such.
Resolutions forgotten, promises broken, new relations born and faded out, old relations lying on the shelf like a cracked vase, dust covered stories some hidden and some not; all sit with you, contemplating the invisible wings of time. Memories, the ones you want to hold onto and the ones you want to forget, all take the shape of glass menagerie, delicate and sacred. One careless move and it will shatter.
When 2010 started and how time and faith drifted me off to different directions I cannot imagine to be true...I was only hoping for a regret free year...another day, another sunrise, another beginning. its time to unwrap another year and let life unfold itself.
Saturday, 27 November 2010
In such circumstances, hibernation is a totally bad idea. I had to come out and find a positive angel to all of this and I did too. At least, the quicksand we are stuck in is never going to let us run out of topics/ issues/ problems to write and complain about before we take one last breathe and then totally succumb to the fragrance and pleasure and depths of it. Voila! What a wonderful life!
I thoroughly scanned through the newspaper and like a kid in a candy shop, nose pressed against the glass counter; I just couldn’t decide what should be scrutinized in my next essay. It was a tough one. Apart from just regular news of our politicians’ shenanigans, there is a collection of conspiracy theories by media and political analysts. Then there are those who are against them and have their own versions of theories. So the war Pakistan is fighting, is it our war or not? Or are drones just a way of showing America’s affection towards us? Does Pakistan really have a unique geographical importance that has made the superpowers plan their wars for? Or is it another attempt at a bogus theory?
While our incompetent and mysterious MEN’s cricket team is busy colouring their toenails, I m content that at least our FEMALE cricket team managed to win some competition and even our hockey team made it to the finals.
There is also a royal wedding around the corner. Ah the lavish lifestyles of Prince Williams and Kate Middleton. Oh wait, they are British and royal. We have to bear with the weirdly thick eyebrow-ed Bilawal, the apple of whose eyes. I think we should also have a public holiday when he gets married in Lal masjid, our equivalent of Westminster Abbey…right?
Will I ever stop complaining? Oh I just spotted Mr President! There is some gunk on your hands….err… uh oh! He’s coming this way!
originally published on www.borderlinegreen.com
Sunday, 7 November 2010
but it wasnt the end.
my soul had left,
for a sojourn far away,
until i missed it terribly
and found it difficult
to breathe and blink.
as coffee and cream and a pen
rested on the mahogany top
the sun shone on my face.
it was floating back to me
so were ideas and imagination
words and lyrics.
all dancing in with the suspended mote.
the golden glitter of the sun
fell on my paraphernalia
lying on the mahogany,
like an unsolved math problem
until there was a spill of coffee and cream.
the ink on the page,
the colour on wood,
the pen on the edge,
spoke of the aroma.
it had come back to me...
Sunday, 5 September 2010
There is also a need to forgive ourselves for the little and the big things in life. We need to breath more and to sit back and look out the window. Day in and day out, all we do is run from one errand to another, from one task at the office to another. With some kind of an invisible time bomb attached with us, we are on the run, from the ghosts of our minds. We want to accomplish so much. We want to defeat time. Contrary to all our big plans and future goals and our larger than life ambitions we fail. We fail to forgive ourselves for the opportunities lost, for the race not won, for the money we didnt invest in some clever deal.Then we sit and lament and whine over things we failed to achieve and how this has made us useless in the market of the fastest rat in the global picture. We pile on the regrets and in our wonderful imaginations make the 'regret lists' and find bitter sweet pleasure in recalling them time and again. But as Morrie says in the book:
Instead of worrying just too much, wouldnt it be more human to take a deep breath, to take a break from the robotic life, to revel into the simple pleasure of staring out the window clean of all regrets and imagined losses. It should also sometimes feel good to be just glad to be living, to be exploring little things in our everyday life. Like discovering that the cake in the oven is fluffy and perfect from one end only but that it tastes better than professional cakes, waking up to the sound of rain though you missed a lucrative opportunity at a renowned magazine and or simply sitting next to your loved ones, feeling good, secretly knowing that you could have traveled across borders to study at some internationally acclaimed university but you didnt.
We let others pass by us but we dont forgive them but we could help and forgive ourselves before we die...this might make us learn that forgiving others is not that difficult after all.
Saturday, 21 August 2010
in love....with bookmarking everything that comes across the laptop screen. "I will do this later thought" automatically makes me hit the bookmark tab. its easy. YES. And regretfully it has turned me into a lazy goon. What is there that i havent bookmarked? Everything ranging from news sites to baking recipes to various blogs to language sties to photography and travel sites. You name it and i would have it bookmarked ! *sigh*
The easy tool of bookmarking has added to my laid back attitude and made me hopeless! Over a year or more i have collected many many and many websites with a single click and now i have no idea how i am going to go back and browse them. I think it will last me my lifetime.
This is not the end to always bookmarking habit. I have been on my butt for longer than it is good for me. I need some serious suggestions from you guys. I want to get rid of this never ending laziness. Is there any hope for me to kick out the bookmarking everything habit and drive laziness to its home? The scary pile of small 'to do lists' is glaring up at me from the coffee table. Before I sink back into my bean bag and dose off please suggest how can I get rid of my current problem and get my pending work done?
Sunday, 15 August 2010
However, i m not here to give away beauty tips for natural glowing face ( though i m saving the used lemon skins). there are more examples of optimistic approach to life phrases. for example there is 'every cloud has a silver lining'. life has a lot of lemons to roll your way. I have accepted it but its hard for me to come to terms with it. every time i m confronted with a situation that demands me to make lemonades or look for the silver lining in the clouds above, i just let the lemons roll away and the clouds sail away to some other destination.
It is usually after the lemons are gone and the clouds are far away that i realise there goes another chance for me to do something.
Doing the best with what life gives you is the key. the key is to keep living. the key is to never stop or lose hope. it is an indication that life holds many surprises for you. maybe that there are still many chances and opportunities to benefit from. Provided that you keep on your emotions intact and brain in use and most importantly use the lemons before they go rotten. if they do, toss them back ! or even better...
Thursday, 12 August 2010
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
There are bound to be maybes in life. a lot of what ifs. life comes with a big bundle of strings attached.
Unconscious mistakes and conscious mistakes. we want to make them. we want to know them firsthand. there is some guilty pleasure in the desire to make mistakes anyway. We are stopped, guided and told how not to make a mistake.
The cake, rising up...
What if i let it burn. yes, that would be stupid of me, wasting butter and eggs and gas and time and money on something i could have made right. but why is it important to make it right every time? it happens. when you are extra careful with baking. it goes wrong. mistake. you make a mistake somewhere during the process that the cake that eventually comes out of the oven doesnt taste right. its burnt a bit, sticks badly to the pan when you take it out, the slices dont go perfect size. in the end you are in a 'maybe' state. maybe the batter was too thin or maybe its too sweet, or maybe i took it out too soon so its sticking badly. a mistake's been made somewhere...
Life, however, is no cake. It is more than just that. It is affordable to go wrong with a cake but there is no room for going wrong in life. As is said life has no delete buttons, no choice of erasing out a mistake or throwing away 'the cake that went wrong'.
The mistake big or small, stays with you. Like a backup plan, like an extra torch to switch on when its dark. Not to relieve you but to haunt you.
It is not abyss. Life is sunshine and rain both. It is pleasure and pain together. A period of 24 hours has both day and night. Some mistakes leave scar others just leave you laughing at yourself. Why hold back in fear of making mistakes that we will regret for our lives. Why not just take a plunge and see it for ourselves. Why wait for others and stand on a safe harbour. If life comes with strings attached, good or bad, we should be ready to embrace them.
Saturday, 31 July 2010
My heart beat of the absent heart fastens and in a split second I realise. I feel as if someone suddenly moved the heavy paper weight, leaving the stacks of untamed paper to fly in every direction. Their hidden wings suddenly materalised out of illusion. It was the chaos of realisation.
The space where the well groomed horse had been galloping appeared deserted. The savior was a hoax. No prince was coming to give me the kiss of life. It was not a fairy tale. I was not the damsel in distress. My life did not begin or end in a children's bed time story book.
I was real. My flesh and bones were real, maimed and brittle. My hair, silky and brown mingled with the real wind that carried dust and mote.
A drop of blood slid down my wrist and met with a dried up wound; reminder of my womanhood- a liability I carry for as long as I survive.
postscript: Dedicated to the many rape victims in Pakistan that meet a fate they least deserve though my words cannot heal their wounds.
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Hand in hand, they walked together, leaving their foot prints in the sand behind them. A generous wave glided on the shores, she laughed as the cool water waves touched her ankles. The sun was setting on the vast horizon. Their new life together eagerly waited to embrace them. The new sun would take them to Islamabad but maybe it was not their final destination...
The baby wailed loudly in her arms. Tears rolled down the soft chubby cheeks and the baby rested his face on his mother's shoulder. Behind him, the dense crowd was loud, some were laughing, others were emotional as they waved goodbyes. But his adorable eyes were fixed on his granny, who kept blowing him flying kisses.The loud excited chatter of the crowd fainted as the distance grew. The pristine figure of his granny disappeared behind the dense crowd gathered at the airport.
A few images got veiled behind my poor imagination as i thought of those who lost their lives in a sudden air accident.
Who knew the goodbyes were the final gestures of love. Who knew that another sight of the loved ones would remain a dream, a wish. Who knew that a day that started with hope and promises would meet a fate least expected. Life is such. The emotional outburst and panic of the relatives at the airports, their questions and desperation was worsened by the carelessly given statements of our cabinet ministers, who first kindled hope that there are survivors only to refuse it later. There is more which left the pain stricken relatives in anguish for long hours as they waited for information from the hospital and the airport to hear something about their lost loved ones. The tragic accident left many questions unanswered like why was the pilot instructed to take another round before landing on its set time? What other plane was landing before airblue's plane and why? Is the black box recovered?
Postscript: My words cannot fill the void left in the lives of the families who lost loved ones in the plane crash accident. Maybe its the catharsis of an onlooker who helplessly watched the entire tragic episode unfold in front of her eyes.
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Saturday, 17 July 2010
A sudden sound at a distance astounded her. The giants from her nightmares had quit and were heading home. Thud Thud, the footsteps' resonance echoed around her but only to bring forth the joy of countless army of words marching towards her.
She grew curious to the herald of the magnificent flock of birds against the azure sky. What could that mean she thought. Before she knew it, the group of exotic birds as if from a folklore flew towards her, whistling and chirping to their tune of freedom. They flapped their wings with synchronized rhythm and dived towards her lean figure as she stood mesmerized by the aura of the flying creatures. Their flight grew closer and dropped beautifully sewn garlands of gleaming white roses, the likes of which she had never seen. The fragrance spread its invisible wings and embraced the atmosphere surrounding her.
While she stood there admiring the white of the flowers and their soft velvety texture, something tickled her feet. Tiny dews had gathered on the serene meadow beneath her pale feet. Conspiring something big in their tiny dewy world. She bent on her knees and closely observed their shine diminishing into nothingness. How could this be she thought. Recalling Keats' she whispered the famed lines "A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness."
The glow of the meadow left behind by the dew said it all. She knew she was free. Free from the shackles of unknown bounds. The birds had flown, the garland hung around her neck, the air still pregnant with fragrance, she knew it was time to head home. She walked a while in the engraved giant footsteps and jubilantly headed in another direction as the auroral sky complimented her silhouette.
...then she cupped her hands to collect the running water from the tap onto her sticky sweaty face to rid of the humid weather outside...
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Back to me and myself post that I m a bit ashamed of but if you have come this far reading my blabbing, a few more words wont hurt your eyes :D
I love to buy stationery. The moment I step into a stationery shop, the long lost soul of a kid pops up from inside me and I drool over all kinds of nicely packed and displayed sets of highlighters, pens, post it notes, cards, files, decoration accessories, gift wraps, books. On my trip to England, I window shopped at all the stationery shops in the mall. Quite a fulfilling experience!
I love roller coaster rides. The thrill, the butterfly in the tummy, the excitement it arouses is like the kind of feeling love at first sight brings. Whether my analogy makes any sense is up to my patient readers ( and i see them running away from my blog)
Baking...somehow or the other makes me happy. I have tried it. Whenever I feel out of body and mind and soul, one shot at baking cookies or a simple cake sets things right. This fathers' day I baked cookies for my father, since he likes them right out of the oven. Too bad I forgot to take a picture of my cookies and their presentation; nicely displayed on a white and red flowered cloth in a cane basket with hand made tiny roses ribbons :D
Unsophisticated and lack of manners it may seem but I stare at random people sometimes.Period.
I have a collection of swing photographs for reasons unknown (currently my desktop) and I love collecting more of them. Maybe subconsciously its linked with my desire of going back to my lively childhood :/
I love grocery shopping. Though the idea of malls and super marts here in Pakistan is only a recent fashion, my interest in this sort of a domestic activity goes back to the time of my childhood, when I was made to sit in the shopping cart's red/blue/green fold-able flap :D cruising from one aisle to another in the cart was quite a romance for me at 5 :p
Last but not the least, I LOVE and crave for my mother running her fingers across my, sadly dry and unkempt hair. Its a heavenly feeling. Whenever I catch her on phone, busy in a conversation, I leave all my work and rest my head on her lap and get the VIP treatment until she glares at me with the look saying *i think its enough* :p
Monday, 14 June 2010
I stand and watch myself in the mirror. Stiff eyed I glare back at the image in front of me. Nothing happens. No words jump out of the top of my head covered with black brown unkempt hair. The air is empty, no words float above my head, darting around to grab my attention. I stand and stare back at myself for a while and then dropping all hope turn around and walk away.
I came to my dellu (my laptop's name, weird and cheesy ya but whatever we are talking about the block) and started googling stuff about writers' block merely out of boredom and a feeling of helplessness of looking at thousands of words everyday in books and papers but not being able to produce something on my own.
Google is like Vicki, remember the little girl robot from Small Wonder? I dont know the connection but its like today's vicki in a way. Something on your mind go google it, even if its your writers' block, go and ask google aka vicki. Pardon me if I dont seem to be making sense or else I pardon you for not being able to keep up with my blabbing.
I think it has answers to my temporary but seems like never ending writing problem now when i have all the time in the world to go on scribbling! Today I spent a good whole hour trying to write a letter to the editor and it was hardly 50 words or so. This is a nightmare. As for google, it has some tips which I have bookmarked with a strong resolution of going back to them. Hopefully...
I go back to my reflection and stare in hopes of peeking into my brain and see what is left of it...
i dont look THIS bad though!
Friday, 4 June 2010
mubi: when will i graduate???? such long years of torturous studies
mubi: it be only be celebrations once my research report finishes *day dreaming*
post graduation ( it means after graduation not post graduation as in post grad/masters blah)
mubi: NOW what? :/
mona: (comes online and cheers) congrats!!!
mubi: for what? -_-
mona: you have graduated
mubi: so? i dont feel any different *yawns*
mona: :@(angry) feel educated!! feel smarter !!
mubi: ha ha ha sometimes married women think differently :p
p.s i owe a thanks to mona for helping me enable my emoticons on msn! *phew* what a relief
but the question remains...now what -_-
moral: married women dont necessarily have the solutions
Wednesday, 12 May 2010
The day had just begun, around nine, yes for some it’s half the day gone by already. Life seemed to be moving in slow motion to me at least. There was a rush where the heart is for reasons I have yet to decipher. The aristocratic sun in its full bloom followed my each step as I walked to the Amal tas Block. The new block in the entire campus stood like a freshman student among the beautifully adorned lawn patches, a variety of seasonal flowers to accompany the trees planted by colonial British.
I walked among the tall trees that talked of their long existence even before I came into this world. I thought to myself of the many stories the wise trees keep as secrets with them; stories of the students before me and the students before them and of the ones before them. They are the very old, sari clad ladies who annually visit this college as alumni to have a little tryst with the trees and attend a function and talk about the days gone by. I resolute to myself to never attend the OAKS when I get old and wrinkly, never come back to this place to share my stories of young days.
I imagine for a while the campus and the strange, ghost like aura it carries when night falls, the trees whisper to each other. I wonder if they talk about the old students, share their secrets with each other. Do our stories also become part of the whisper? I think of the trees and the campus submerged in the pool of darkness because I have seen how it looks at night; bizarre and quiet, the tall trees even taller and the footpaths dark and solemn. The buried stories of ghosts and spirits float in the air, suddenly the beautiful campus surrounded by foliage turns into a haunted place.
The campus is different in the morning. Free of mysterious stories about spirits, strange echoing voices the students before us experienced and passed it on to others to eventually reach us. Some kind of an heirloom.
Morning changes everything. As I walk past the same paths, the red bricks, the tall towers I feel the bond that developed somewhere in the past 4 years. Maybe when I get out I will attend the OAKS.
The trees were a lively green and yellow, dancing to the gentle wind. The waiting part is the hardest I thought to myself and found a marble slab along the red brick building to sit on. Some bird’s shit, dried up, stained the marble slab. I found my space and sat, part of me waiting for the wait to get over, and part of me carrying my heavy heart. The yellow flowers kept falling like belle dancers moving rhythmically and beautifully on their toes. I began watching the peculiar yellow flowers bid farewell to the tree branches, the lush green leaves they paired with. To the gentle wind they twirled and swirled and danced in slow poised movements to eventually fall and rest on the earth like a dead being lowered to its grave. For long I sat there, watching a young bird and listened to its long shrilly calls to someone not in sight.
When later I walked away, I left my heart behind...
Monday, 19 April 2010
only a piece fell off
it broke and fell
i saw it going, down and down
getting smaller and insignificant
as it made its way to gravity
i fancied mine unbreakable
a dream i say
i never woke up from
until i heard the sound of a crack
tickling its way up
i thought myself a phoenix
rising up from the ashes
of my own ruins
what a fool i was
i m but a soul
trapped in my own
my pain an awful cry
bleeding a river flow
i hear a distant melody
its phoenix and her moaning
its just my human heart
bleeding and breaking
drop by drop
piece by piece
the bird of my dream
doesnt know that
the heart break has just begun.
it flies away on its wings
made of ash and smoke.
alluring me to come
mine are only little wings
and a million feathers
too light for the winds
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Despite the craziness I'm going through for the sake of a silly thesis to get through with my degree, I dont want to do it. Does my previous sentence make any sense? :s
I m sitting here brain storming on my survey questionnaire, almost on the brink of pulling out my hair with both hands, when I realise my hair is already attracted to gravity. So no hair pulling. I get up and reach for my mobile phone and flip it open, no messages, absolutely no one trying to contact me. No deliberate missed calls from this freaky caller who also randomly leaves encoded messages. Not even a SINGLE missed call...not even he bothered to ring me!!! Outrageous! With a sullen mood, I sink back into my chair and stare at the dirty sheets of doodled questionnaire, strangled in hands in an attempt to extract a magical solution.
I log onto facebook and make a status and log out. I check my inbox, no one emailed. I go back to my work. Occasionally I swing my head to the t.v screen only to find ugly politicians blabbing and pointing fingers at each other. I log back onto FB only to be disappointed to see no response to my status, otherwise flooded with silly comments!
I mean i don't have any excuse to escape my inevitable thesis work!! why is it like i m the only person left on this planet. Am i ? :O
Monday, 5 April 2010
AD made a wonderful post and i couldnt resist but post it here
Toothpick … to remind you to pick the good qualities in everyone, including yourself.
Rubber band … to remind you to be flexible. Things might not always go the way you want, but it can be worked out.
Band-Aid … to remind you to heal hurt feelings, either yours or someone else’s.
Eraser … to remind you everyone makes mistakes. That’s okay, we learn by our errors.
Candy Kiss … to remind you everyone needs a hug or a compliment everyday.
Mint … to remind you that you are worth a mint to your family & Me.
Bubble Gum … to remind you to stick with it and you can accomplish anything.
Pencil … to remind you to list your blessings every day.
Tea Bag … to remind you to take time to relax daily and go over that list of God’s blessings.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
I thought its enough! I haven't written much and the times that I have managed to, only rows and rows of depressing posts have come up on this page. Today it struck me that maybe its my lifeless posts that has driven all the readers away :/
Hence I have come out of my melancholic mask and jumped into the colours of life. *splash* I have also uploaded a picture of the 'happy smileys' in the spirit of change. At the start of the year, I promised myself to write like crazy but as evident I have failed rather obviously. Its the end of march and here I m with only a handful of posts and writings.
'Coming back to life' should be a 'monumental' event, at least this declaration calls for a PROPER gay (used as an adjective) post. HAPPY in other words. However, happiness it seems doesnt spread as fast as poison does. hmmm totally out of my gray matter i will just type about some randomness around me. Ahh the word 'random', saves our ass every time no other words come to our minds.
Sania mirza weds Shoaib Malik. For those of you who don't have even an iota of interest in sports, the former is an Indian tennis player while the latter is a Pakistani (humara apna as we would claim on such merry occasions) cricket player. Ya so they are getting married to EACH OTHER. so whats the big deal? yesterday night surfing all news channels i thought is this the first time two cross border people are getting married?And for some odd reason people thought that their marriage is going to set things right between India and Pakistan. Its just two people getting tying the knot into a new relationship, what does that have to do with the big political agendas?
Since we have come to the topic of matrimony, this reminds me that my friends here and there are getting married. A friend's wedding is just two days away which is a good thing but also a sad thing. Good thing she is going to Amreeka and bad because the entire shadi business is making me emotional :/ By the way I'm not the one who stands with a tissue in her hand, sobbing on weddings. I' m just me, kind of unconcerned to the feelings of the bride :$
Next thing on my mind is the blog awards competition. the competition seems promising but the sad part is that a) i got to know of it quite late and b) none of my followers or readers nominated me :/ not that i own a fantastic blog that would be remembered but still !! :p Alright enough of my complaining :p
With summers at our doors and fans switched on, load shedding is on its extreme. one of my 'summer resolutions' was that i wont say a word on the never ending horrible age of load shedding. *sigh* ya well dont expect me to write any further of this topic, didnt i just mention my resolution? :p
hail randomness and hail writers' block ! ugh !
Friday, 12 March 2010
The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things. Henry Ward Beecher
How true Henry Beecher! Though i dont know you properly, i do know that your breed also comes from the 'angraiz' / 'goray' people; a race of humans known in my part of the world to have awaken a sense of confusion related to us the day we are born. Its next to impossible to explain what i mean here. A state confusion you see. As soon as we see our faces in the mirror we see a 'angraiz/gora' staring back at us. The moment we open our textbooks in school we read about the long colonial era in Sub continent and a number of scholarly studies that hammer all sorts of theories into our minds ranging from how the 'goray dost' left us handicapped post colonial times, how their shadows still lingers on our minds and souls. How we are still under their imperialism though of a different nature. There is just so much more but the adjectives and details of history betray me right now ( i think i will use this phrase time and again now)
Great! See my 'gora dost' again remained successful in diverting my attention from my very 'imperative' post. Coming back to the quotation under scrutiny, i would say how ironic! First the 'angraiz' made us learn the word 'irony' and then gave us a truckload of irony to deal with.
As these golden words gleam and glitter at me, i realise that the superior breed of humans (of course my white friend) have successfully come up with this equation and also followed it. They have realised that in order to be happy they will have to rob the common things in the world around them. I see the readers raise their eyebrows to very uncomfortable angles ( my assumption) but lets break the statement down and pick out the words that add weight to my argument that originates from a state of mind developed under the shadow of the west. Here i also very skillfully display my art of blaming everyone, even my white friend. All apologies though not meant.
The words 'happiness', 'power' , 'extracting' , 'common things'. Now do you get my point? Power lies with the white man, without a doubt. Happiness is a myth for us brown people, hence the only race on this planet deserving of this 'happiness' remains to be my white friend. Extracting - its a word in disguise for all the amazing maneuvering skills my friends possess while they sit seas away in other fortunate continents. Lastly, common things that would be us?
Oh and did i mention how we, the brown people have been trying very hard to please our friends? The most noticable thing found in our blood today is loyalty. Yes L O Y A L T Y not for our own filthy, uneducated lot found begging on the streets and living in what we term very beautifully 'on the poverty line' but for the superior human race. Some of us are just too keen in explaining that we are very peaceful and modern. Well the truth of the matter is that we are not peaceful. No. No where near to being THAT. we are not peaceful but full of pieces. Yes. Thats much better. One blast of 9/11 and then one attack on 26 Nov 08 many precious lives were lost. Very sad.
Bombs, suicide attacks, bombs, more such attacks in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, on random hours at night, around the clock here in Pakistan. People die. Its normal isnt it? What is even 'more' normal than Just normal is the attacks by my white friend from up in the air on people down on the earth because we are looking for the bad guys.
The entire ordeal of writing such a praiseworthy post for my friends leave me exhausted. Hence i take my leave and will continue if my gora saab whispers anything in my ear.
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Time had come to a stop like a train that reaches its desired stop and seemed to have enclosed us in its shell. The wait grew longer.We sat in the shell, surrendering our strengths to the reigns of time. We sat around the charpoy as if astounded by the sudden appearance of a unicorn.
Night fell and so did our voices and sobs awaiting few last visitors for the dead. He laid there, frozen in time and we sat there, stood there, did whatever we could to escape confines of seconds and minutes and hours.
It was a long, long period of waiting where we with beating hearts and he with death awake acted according to our roles. Then one last roar of grief and pain escaped into the air pregnant with melancholy and life and death parted ways.
People die. life ends. we being humans forget. In the hustle and bustle of life, lost in the pleasures and pains of it, we somehow, forget about our romance with death until it knocks on our doors or that of our neighbours or relatives...
Friday, 5 March 2010
The pair of eyes stalked the dust motes as they disappeared somewhere above her head. The slanted sunlight kept filtering in through the glass and dust motes continued to invade the room like some magical dust hanging in the air after the spell had been cast. Her mouth agape, she stared above her head as if there was some 'splendor' in the way tiny particles moved about for a while and then vanished.
In the meantime a trail of thought slipped from her and joined the celebrations of the dust mote, now appearing like tiny angels in the slant of the sun's light. Her idle hands untied her untidy bun of hair and let them loose and tied them in a neat braid. The long plait of hair rested on her lean shoulders and touched her floral kameez below her bosoms. Her eyes remained fixed on her thoughts and dust particles disguised as angels in a rendezvous. with her back towards the window, she sat in a trance of an insane person.
An impatient knock rapped on the bay window and startled her out of the bubble. As she turned her face towards the light, a pair of angry eyes met her dreamy pair. She slid her cracked heels into her rubber slippers and trotted her way towards the door.
An artificially exasperated voice said: "Didnt you hear the bell? Where are you lost half the time?"
She said: " I'm just a dust mote". The exasperated voice didnt wait to hear and walked away in her own bubble.
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Of the many stories Pinocchio's the one that I distinctively remember, at least for the time being. The moral of the story was on the lines of lying and its consequences. The character of Pinocchio was a wooden carved puppet that comes to life and ends up having a long nose due to habitual lying. I'm sure all of us remember it. Either we have heard them from our elders or have narrated to our young ones as bed time stories.
As the mild winter sun shines out my window and the UPS winks green, blue and red lights - exhausted by a continuous 3 hours load shedding; I wonder which planet our politicians have come from. Did they too hear about the story of Pinocchio? Or maybe they all suffer from selective amnesia where all the moralistic childhood stories have just vanished from their gray matters. Or maybe, whichever planet they were kicked out from, the beings there just wiped out all the memory out of their brains and then sent them on earth to seek asylum!
A night before a news scroll herald that some bigwig, whose name now skips my mind, announced that there wont be anymore load shedding of electricity in the country. Suddenly?
They must have stolen Hermione's magic wand ( begging or stealing is habitual in this part of the world) or how else can a problem like that become a solution on its own.
The next morning the bread refused to go into the toaster as I pushed down the lever and then I realised that the magic never happened. That I was pushed into believing a fake promise by the Pinocchios running our government institutions.
Now I wonder at my own self destructive naivety of believing into the lies cooked and served with a pinch of irony sprinkled thoroughly on our t.v screens. I wonder at my own short sighted action of casting a vote for a party whose leader is out on a 'hunting' trip because this the only time for leisure.
I think of my father switching on news channels to hear the much awaited and already delayed 'good news' that was about to welcome our lives. I look at today's paper and see a fat crowd of ordinary people ( yes they live among the Pinocchios) holding placards that read words like 'inflation', 'rising' , 'justice'. Then I wonder do our ruling Pinocchios chops off their noses every morning for the lies they baked the previous night?
I just got the answer from a little birdy that just flew in.
Friday, 5 February 2010
year after year we live 5th feb as a day to sleep more, do our chores, finish our to do lists or just be. maybe relax. why not go to our colleges, schools and offices instead of taking a holiday on a day that should be very important to us. however, instead of working or studying like on normal days, we should get out on the streets to peacefully protest in a unified manner and make our voices heard. what kind of support do we show to our brothers in kashmir for the sacrifices they have made over the years by celebrating a holiday?
state terrorism still continues
Thursday, 28 January 2010
The sun and the clouds above met our eyes. Everything was in place. The yellow hanging in the blue and the white carefully sailing past the yellow and in the process giving birth to my shadow. My kneaded eyebrows relaxed for some time. I felt every muscle in my body shiver. The sun's mild warmth had pulled me into a state of listening to a lullaby and fall prey to a deep sleep. I felt my jaw tightened as i made a failed attempt to curve my lips into a smile. A faint smile of pity and sympathy of a man who knows that he is the oppressor but it is fine because its for the good of the world. As this thought crossed my mind, i felt part of the bigger picture, content for my actions. Not wasting a single moment, I took a 180 degrees turn on my toes like a belle dancer, my back towards the expectant pair of dark, beady eyes and walked the walk of a carefree person in the world.
As the distance between me and the beady eyes increased, I grew smaller and insignificant for the life behind the wires. Beady eyes remained perched on the horizontal rusted rod in the middle of the cage. A free bird landed its flight nearby on the lawn swing and spoke a language I would never know.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Give me some rain
Give me another chance
I wanna grow up once again