Too many ice cubes in my Pepsi!

... But, I am going to talk about milk, and cookies. Cookies and rusks, to be specific. But more about tea.
We have this special tradition of relishing cookies and rusks on weekends in the dining hall with milk after dinner around 11. I usually skip milk and get myself a cup of tea, for reasons I will happily reveal some other time. Often our conversations take a very interesting turn; we shift from general topics to personal opinions to political debates to historical analyses to past recounts. The number of quotable moments is plenty, and it's funny how I never thought of keeping a proper record of all of them.

It is an utterly carefree and comfortable feeling, to talk about whatever you wish with people who know tiny little things about each others lives and recall and laugh about it all. My mum getting annoyed 'cause of us getting into useless debates, my brothers pulling my leg, my father teaming up with me in teasing mum, my unrealistic and inconsequential musings... My father telling us all for the millionth time how he felt when I was born and he held me in his arms for the first time. My mum recounting how difficult I was when my twins brothers were born. Oh I remember that. I always wanted a sister, and so I was greatly disappointed knowing I am going to take home TWO brothers with me. We used to fight like arch enemies. They were hell naughty twins, and extremely evil.

Recently we have been having heated political arguments over Pakistan’s current chaotic situation. All of us agreed how illogical the call of civil disobedience was; my father said Qadri’s speech relatively made more sense than Imran Khan’s. He however thinks somebody’s backing him. Well. He also reasoned with me that army may seem a good option right now but has its adverse affects in the long run. I was mildly convinced. None of us is a PML-N supporter, but my mother argues over what is constitutionally correct and what isn't. She says nobody should be allowed to sit in the state capital and direct mayhem across the country on his whim. She also finds Imran Khan's contradictory statements unsettling. My father of course presents counter arguments trying to describe IK’s agenda, which is honestly still not-so-clear to me, and then it gets interesting.

I remember a couple of weeks ago the round of hilarious laughter over an incident of my sloth-lazy brother wearing dirty socks to school and the confusion that ran through over who-stole-the-socks-from-the-washing-machine. When even one of us three siblings is being laughed at, it is a must for the remaining two of us to be sequentially targeted as well. The topic of course shifted to my other brother, consequently leading to me.

Conversations shift to considerably serious topics too. A week ago we got into discussing how everything that God does has good in it, only we don't know it at times; and sooner or later, we get our answer to almost every 'why' we had initially deemed unanswerable. It was in context to a message from a close friend who found the answer to her 'why' after almost three years. Strange how life works out sometimes, no? My mum generally said -which wasn't said in general, by the way; I knew it was specifically for me - how we should focus more on what can be rather than sulking over what could have been. She said everything that happens has a reason behind. My father, quoting a different incident from his experiences said, 'Allah ki karni sab se behtar hoti hai.' I literally had to fight back my tears, because it made so much sense! I wouldn't have agreed with this had I been told this a couple of months ago. Now I do. Wholeheartedly.

Sometimes the rounds begin with Abbu sharing stories from his childhood and the ones his parents had told him. I love such sessions the most. He shares with us tales of people who are now dead; which is our way of keeping from completely losing them. Isn’t it amazing, how we learn to love people we have never met just by listening to their stories? Isn't it like, having closely known them? Feels like I saw them when they were happy. I felt it when their heart broke into two. I was there when they secretly cried, and I was there when the universe chimed with their laughter. From being able to listen, to being able to share; I impatiently look forward to these two nights of the week that we all get to spend together. That is when every other thought process in my head is at halt. I can be extremely silly and nobody would judge me. I can share the deepest of my crazy concepts and laugh about them. Home. I can be anything at home. I can dance at Honey Singh’s crazy music or sing a Himesh Reshamiya song in my husky voice. I can go around all day in my PJs watching Phineas and Ferb, and nobody would tell me that I shouldn’t be watching Disney cartoons at the age of 21. I am home and with people who know tiny insignificant things about me. At home I feel like a complete kid again. And that’s the best part.

Family, I believe, holds you up safely. You may never know what they endured. And it is a mistake, to keep things from them. Because nobody, nobody can give you a better advice than them. Or if nothing at all, at least you’ll know that there's a place called home, and there are people in it, who will keep your back, no matter what trouble you get yourself into. They always have, and they always will.

My father had told me, in one of our milk-cookie sessions, that you will end up wasting your entire life should you keep waiting to be ready. Ready never comes because ready doesn’t exist. Everything is now. Do it today, do it now. Be what you want to be and set about getting what you want, now in this very moment; because that is all you have. He said that we should act fast, because now, too, is constantly slipping. I nodded. Nods could be distrustful. My father seems to know that too well. I nodded nervously, because:

What if you don’t know what you want anymore?

I have roughly 4 months to figure out and decide.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps, I just want to be. Perhaps I want to enjoy my final few months as a student and let paths unfold all by themselves.

A little something

One year behind the line, these days were perfect. I don't even have to try to remember how it was. Every minute detail of each day is crystal clear, like it was only yesterday. The Eid day when a certain truth was revealed. And the drizzly evening when a choice was made; staying by which was the easiest decision to live with. Funny how I have never identified with people who associate rain with sorrow. The sound of sheeting rain against the window pane was overwhelming. So beautiful, to sit in the dark and let the sound and fragrance of rain fill your senses... The first blast of rain on my skin brought back the memory of a time gone by. Feels like it is the only memory of rain I am left with. It was beautiful, I am going to keep it; regardless of the consequences it brought.

*.*.*

All those people who keep telling me 'told you so' are the ones whose mouths I knew will be shut forever when the time would come. I knew they'll get their answer when my faith will win and they will see for themselves how I was right all along.

I wasn't.

I no longer have anything to say in defense like all other times. The last bit of confidence I had was crushed when my sincerity was insulted. JUST when I was beginning to improve, someone from recent past showed up, yet again, only to blame me for all the mess; like all other times. Is it really that difficult to not realize your own mistake? My caution was misunderstood. How is adhering to your limits a mistake? How is a silence of months justifiable? How telling half-truths is right? How audaciously blaming someone for the collapse is correct when you left them all alone in the middle of nowhere? It was silly of me to even think there exists a thing as self realization. I should've known that people lack the courage to accept their mistakes. Which only shows how weak they are. NOBODY has any right to demand justifications from me for their indecisiveness. Who knew, my goodwill will be thrown down the drain so effortlessly. It took me some while to get over the disappointment. But one thing was made clear, when people show up every now and then to blame you for the wrong they did, it is their defensive act of consoling their guilty conscience by projecting their guilt onto others. I no longer stress about it; it has brought me a satisfying peace.

You know what they say for every person you lose, there comes someone else to fill the gap? I don't completely agree; but I do understand what it means. When someone leaves, it creates room for people you had shut out just because you had someone much important in priority. I lost someone special over the time, but I also gained a few genuine friends in due course. I went out to meet them for the second time; Gloria Jean's it was. I'd say again like I have said before, people are not what other people say they are. People are not what they themselves say they are either. Naani would always quote a maxim, 'duniya gol hai.' I never truly understood the meaning of it until recently. Which only made me realize how all those sayings I have been listening to in my childhood are actually VERY true. All those "propositions" I have been boldly denying all these days... Well. Certain unexpected sources came up to validate them, adding more to the bizzarity of a story that is no more my concern; and for that, a simple 'I was wrong' would suffice. No more a part of a twisted story, much thankful.

As I had decided, I wouldn't waste another blog post in defining the tormenting wait and agony I had to go through. A little reflection was necessary, and so it's given.

*.*.*

I was very much sure how boring and gloomy my Eid will be. I was dreading it, literally. My sense of association and nostalgia is stronger than usual. I knew it would come back; I knew I don't want it. Three days before Eid, I looked no less than a zombie. I wasn't well, and I didn't want to see anyone. But as it is said, surprises come when you least expect them. That is why they are called 'surprises', no? My cousins returned to Pakistan for Eid. It was so good, to see them again after a month. Some people are a source of such joy, you can't put it in words. And what do you know, the Eid I was expecting to be boring and upsetting as hell turned out to be so eventful and happening. I might as well mention here the exciting 'Shaadi Week' that is now coming to an end. Don't you think good times pass quick? I think they do. But what they leave behind is a series of cherish-able moments that harbor in the mind forever.

My university began this week. I found myself feeling excited for the first day when only a week ago I was sulking about it. It turned out better than I thought. We kick started our sixth semester with loads of pictures, hilarious laughter at silly jokes and of course, Sufi ke Dhaabay pe Pathan ke parathay ka naashta. I have three Linguistic courses this semester, and Psycho Linguistics is the only one I am looking forward to. Last five months in here, unless of course I choose to come back for Masters. I haven't given much thought to it yet.

In another exciting news, MUN has at last arrived to University of Karachi! Awesome, isn't it? The conference dates will be announced soon. Really looking forward to it. Finally UoK will be having some creative fun, too.

I have friends annoyed with me for not posting Euphoria’s final sequel. Reason being: first, my laziness. I have been however trying to complete and finalize the drafts, but I am unable to; probably because I no longer have it in me. Euphoria always reflected what I felt. How do I coherently put it in symbols when I don’t anymore feel it? But I shall give it a try. Everything deserves to have an ending, Euphoria must have one to.

I have started liking it here in my new house. This place has a very calming surrounding. You know my favorite spot in the entire house? The roof top. My world so perfectly fits in there… I see a chain of images of certain events rolling chronologically at the blank slate of dark sky. It is like living a dream, only with an awakened consciousness. I lie underneath the vast sky and carve random shapes out of the floating clouds. They are empty containers, and it is so pleasing to give meaning to them. Do you know how it feels to have a meaning?...

... Complete. It feels complete.