Euphoria: V

Read Euphoria IV here.

The weather was beginning to get better. It was early spring. The same days when the stage for her journey had begun to set. The air was fragrant with familiar scents –but it lacked the verve she’d felt a year ago. Three sixty five days around the sun; what had everything come to?

It began as a dream; a dream so fragile, it was bound to have consequences. And yet she set about to pursue it; fearful for what if it didn't work out, but overwhelmed by the idea for what if it did? Only hearts that are confident find romance in uncertainty. Hers was; and so all else mattered not.

It was a dream, a dream so fragile... She should’ve thought about it carefully before stepping in.

Tied in shackles of fresh memories; she was struggling feebly to find her way. It was quite some time now, and despite that she'd given up, not even a single day would pass when she wouldn’t think of him and his whereabouts. It was her need to belong that had had her living miserably. But no more would she look forward to hearing from him, who had turned away without saying final adieu. So much did she learn in his absence. The East Wind would often bring her a valuable maxim, a word of wisdom, carried in a voice she had grown up listening to. But a heart has always been a nuisance, it doesn't fall in traps of conditioning so easy. She lived in her melting numbness, somewhere between bearing in her the shock of what happened and an ache of what couldn't...

There were however signs of improvement. Her satin dress had dried by now; the red glossy color had faded. Her feet and palms still had dull traces of henna. She had removed the smudges of kohl from around her eyes, the gray impression however remained. Her hair that had grown messily long was now pulled back in a rough bun with uneven locks hanging carelessly. She had also begun responding to the voices that had been there whispering in her head. Something had however sunk so low inside her, she couldn’t find it anymore. A long journey awaited her. With a hole punched in her empty chest, a void left between her fragile fingers, she was to walk upon it. Alone. She wore what she was told to, a face which didn't suit her disposition. A mask, made of uneven, artificial emotions that never had and never can reach the heart. It was only now, that it came to her how this realm was no different from the one she had come from: how all notions are governed by same set of stereotypical customs that chain every young heart, consequentially suffocating dreams of each to a tragic death. It was only now that it struck to her how every appearance is a combination of irregular, misleading lies. Each carrying a story within and without.
A portrait of childhood that she left behind for new experiences: a memory of flying lanterns that she gave up in desire of capturing the brilliance of queen moon. A set of her own stories that she traded for his accounts: a bunch of joyful associations she let go to catch up happily with his melancholy tales...

It was only when life stopped being normal she began to appreciate it.

And wasn't it too late already?

It was no longer the place she used to know. All she had ever known in this journey was lost somewhere. She felt like a star, separated from its moon, thrown off to a distant galaxy. The Mighty Moors commanded the nature to mend her broken wings. They sent their inky clouds to help her find the lost pieces. But the more she'd try to forget, the better she'd remember. She remembered. She remembered how he had presented his final departure. She remembered what had happened after he had showed up, and gone, and showed up again. She remembered everything...

***

He had showed up again. After making clear of what he had come to say, after walking away back into the abyss, without a word of farewell, after a considerable amount of time, just when her mind switched to finding her way forward, just when she decided to dispel all the phantoms of past, he showed up again. No Muse invoked can aid with accurate words which would justly define the emotions that ran through her like wild blizzards. The array of dull, melancholic evening stars assigned to look over her, suddenly brightened and cheered. He heard her silent cry! He came to say adieu! It was a dream dreamt together, he couldn't leave it incomplete! He came back, to say, what she'd longed to hear...
This was, however, not the business.

There he was. Again. What brought him back, she didn't know. Neither did she ask. Such are the fears of people in love, they don't say what is needed to be said lest they be swept off their feet. Lest their fancy crumple into tiny irreparable pieces; oblivious for how in complete ruin it already is.

The expression he wore had the same color that had always had her pray earnestly for him. His voice had the same impact that melted her heart every time she'd hear it. The anger of despair that she was holding in herself since so long, evaporated with the first note of his voice that she was closely familiar with. How long had it been since she last wallowed in its warmth? It swelled her heart. It was love; an overpowering spell. But where the sapling of her young love was still standing stout and grand, the missing pieces and the numerous intricate wounds his absence had given to the heart ached all the more. How were they to heal all at once? There was no denying that he has been in pain. But she was in no less. And to tell the truth, hers was greater than his in totality; for she bore in her the pain of her brokenness as well of his suffering.

Of his disappearance, he said it was for good. Of his disregard he said it was her illusion. Of his attention he said it was divided and of his heart, he said it was in torment. Of her tears he said they were august pearls but of his suffering he said it was greater. Of his life, he said it wasn't easy but on its details he said he's vague. The new information didn't suit the previous; just as the previous didn't suit the prior. Just as none had suited the initial. He advocated to resume; but of silence and hurtful actions of past, he couldn't remember. He said naivety, of her suggestion to formally involve the sacred trees; but of his priorities, he said they're sorted. Of his love he said it was true; but of where she stands, he said nothing...
His words however provided only a partial insight into a much more complex story. The heart that had been so much in love however reasoned, that stories are all complicated. They are all dark in their own way. It was love, and love is anything but blind in nature. She had loved him in all her senses with all her genuineness. His words, like all other times, were heart warming; she thawed, like a snow flake liquefy on the tip of a finger. But she could also see and feel, how going back was not easy. What remained behind? The memory of days of bliss and euphoria with him on her side was overshadowed by that of torment she had spent all alone waiting for him. Must he not be told of every single day she had spent dying for him? Must he not be questioned for his faulty facts and contradictory statements? Must he not be informed of every question and every ridiculing remark that came her way over the course of his absence? He must; but he wasn't. And the heart suggested again, bringing up the same feeling of tenderness that had had her take his hand despite all his flaws -- it was of no importance of what he had been beside of what he said he will be to her. He was given a chance once; she was beginning to think of giving one again. But adhering to certain limits she was strongly bound to, she resorted to silence, which has always meant so much, if only it was understood. She was bound by the barrier of legitimate right. If he can put others before her and blatantly remind her the insignificance of her position in his life, what claim then, was she to make of herself on him? If he had walked away once breaking all vows; would he not walk away again? The battle of need continued; in the meantime however, her silence was only misinterpreted like every other time. He, who spoke of intimacy, was now suddenly accusing her. He, who had just returned, disappeared again. And the array of stars, lost its glow of self illumination...

And thus, love was lost; somewhere between not saying what was meant to be said, and not understanding what should've been easily understood.  Love was lost, somewhere between hiding the most important truth and projecting false accusations. He left her. Stranded. All on her own. And then came back accusing her that she wasn't there for him. Who knew, the kinds of love can be so shallow as well at times.

Euphoria was no more. All that little confidence of ever knowing him withered away with the dreary winds. The grey had gone from the sky. It was blank, yet occupied by the lustrous brilliance of queen moon who seemed to have won the battle of envy; for her nemesis was drained of all her radiance she had initially acquired in the journey. She stretched out her hand, hoping for the strands of silver to fall on her palms... But all she saw and heard was an echo; an echo of emptiness. Her hands were empty, so was her heart, so was her soul. Pain pricked - dejavu filled the air - and down came rolling her august pearls, which bore in them the deepest of her unanswered prayers. She had spent seasons waiting for something that was never meant to come. She protected with all her might, a promise that was given in haste only to be forgotten. She kept alive in her heart, memory of a love, that was tinged with lies. All in vain. Because it was love. And love is said to seldom reveal the concrete that lies beneath the ceramic.

And now it was time. To bury, what was not yet dead. And put an end to a soul shattering drama. Having sealed the letter with the moisture of her tears, she sent the Robins to convey it to him.

... She missed his last glimpse. Never learnt of what happened to him from then on, neither let herself find out; because over the course she mastered the art of keeping herself from all that'd add to her pain. In the nature however existed incoherent shadows of the caged birds he believed hanker after him, only somewhere in the pits of his fancy.

And it remained to be contemplated as a transient dream. Which was bound to fade...

***

She had loved, maybe not wisely, but ardently. It was love, and love need not be a punishment for those involved. It doesn't change with circumstances, it doesn't change with seasons; it only gets stronger. Love grows on the roots of faith, and faith can never stem from seeds of lies. That which doesn't make you a better person, that which compels you to lie can't be love; it can only look like it. But it was her love, and it indeed transformed her. It was love, and it did not deserve silence. It deserved, --since not a happy ending-- a graceful closure. And so it was given one. The words had evaporated with the hollow wind, and the only thing she failed to do was forgive. He showed out of nowhere, handed her a dream all by himself, and then ruthlessly snatched it away when it was just young and innocent, tearing her world apart. The realization that he didn't consider her worthy of the truth broke her heart. He betrayed, not only her, but an innocent rosemary bud too, who she would've loved just as much as she loved him, if only he had trusted her enough. Because it was her love, and it would've encompassed not only him but all who would've come along with him. He denied her the right to decide for herself. He kept her in the dark and told false tales. The pain had been incomprehensibly great; and forgiveness was too early to ask. It did not dispel the shadows of agony completely; it only lessened it. It did not remove the memory, it only concealed it. It would have been a betrayal to her past - though short, yet beautiful - had she looked at it with woe. For it was love, and it was true as long as it lasted. 

The soft clouds had gathered, sending down a soothing shower, that only came as a reminder of last summer when a powerful prayer was sent up to the heavens; when her journey had begun. It was the first rain of spring that had come to add final strokes to her unfinished portrait. She soaked it in her bones, feeling her soul standing miles, gazing at her in awe. Who knew, a heart so small can bear so much?

And this is only the beginning...

Adieu, 2014

It was a week ago while traveling through the cantt area an intriguing scene caught my eyes and remained in my mind for the rest of the day. It was a silhouette of crowns of smoke embossed at the amber canvas of evening sky. Rising from behind the bushes, trying to reach up, almost touching the burning sun. To grab and bring back what's been lost. So close... You think you could reach out and easily touch it; only to realize the elusive nature of the whole scenario. Each cloud of smoke would follow in the same trail of its preceding cloud, and eventually disappear into thin air. It is only if you discern the turn that they appeared separate, else to begin with, they were one... How I'd wanted to paint the scene on a real canvas if only my artistic abilities were limitless. It was simple, but the symbolism was striking. It's crazy how every year life brings us back to where we'd begun from a year ago. Simple little things that meant so much, but are no more. Amazing how your world can take a complete turn within a matter of three sixty five days.

This is the first when I don't know what my End Year's post must look like. This is the first when I have no coherent reflections on the year that's gone and absolutely nothing to look forward to from the year that's right around the corner. Winter has made itself comfortable. Cold fingers, frozen toes, and a numb heart. 2014 was the year I was at my most vulnerable. I lost my way over the course. It is so easy to lose your way, don't you think? One moment you are here, strolling through a lane you have so fondly built, so sure of where you're heading; but then the paths suddenly change and it is no longer the place you used to know. You are sighing in the quietest of nights, groping in the dark, trying to find a way. A way back. A way forward. But there's nothing anymore.

2014 was the most decisive year of my life. I completed my three year Honors program. Yep. I am finally a graduate. When I had entered university I thought it would be one hell of a journey. I wouldn't make it. But it's crazy, how we go out among total strangers, and little by little, we discover them. How they are, how they think, what they like, what interests them, what irritates them. And before we could realize, they become an integral part of our lives. Life is like that in many ways; only a lot more complicated. But of university, I made it. After three years of assignment pressures and exam anxiety, of early morning classes and boring Linguistic lectures, of hilarious laughter and countless tears, of petty arguments and heartwarming smiles, I finally made it.

In another news, my treatment finally ended. No more follow ups, no more medicines, no more hospitals. I feel... Free. Literally. November was the last time I had to go for a follow up. My fever lasted almost for more than a week and I thought here I go again. But thankfully, that was it. I cant believe I wouldn't have to take any more medicines. Not that I was punctual with them anyway, but yeah. It's only sad that my hair is now falling like crazy 'cause of the fever and antibiotics. I remember how I had given a million excuses last year just to avoid a damn blood test. Little did I know, that right ahead a whole series of pathetic blood tests awaits me. And this time I wouldn't have no excuse. Now that I think of it, I realize how I had spent a substantial part of my year in a hospital. The nurses and even the receptionist would recognize me, and it wasn't even funny.

I also, after much delay, at last winded up Euphoria. Winding up Euphoria meant bidding final farewell to a memory I was so scared to let go. I might also post a final epilogue, but that would be later. It's like my mind keeps suggesting ways of holding on to it, in whatever subtle way I could. I knew it had to end. There was nothing left of it, but the thought of putting an end to it was daunting. What would I hold on to once Euphoria is practically gone? It used to provide me a chance to revisit a sweet agonizing memory every once in a while. But I guess this is it. Would be throwing out the fifth part probably in a couple of days. 2014 took away my Euphoria which had begun a year ago. I entered this year with so many people. Not knowing that by the end I'd have to leave a few behind. My only regret is that I didn't even get to say goodbye and the last link was broken. And then it settled in... Isn't it insane, how things we haven't thought of since quite some time still have the ability to make us cry?

There are events in my past which look grander in my head than they really were. Fragments of childhood memories, school days, family time. And I didn't even notice when they were happening. But there are also certain events, which I knew were already so grand while they were happening. And I savored every moment. I always knew there is a consequence for every action, and you have to deal with it. But if 2014 taught me something, it was that sometimes you have to bear consequences even for someone else's actions. 2014 taught me that there aren't many sure things in life. I was living in a lie all this time. You know how you are mostly numb but then every once a while a wave of realization hits you and you know it's real. You know it deep inside your chest. In the pit of your stomach. From the crown of your head to the tips of your fingers, you know that it was real and it happened. And you've got to face it. I knew it's hard for people to accept their mistakes, and keeping myself in there I understand how it is like. It's natural to be scared and make mistakes; but you don't get to blame others for that. But people... Well. People will disappoint you. People you stood up for will not necessarily stand for you. People you defended all the while they were absent, will not necessarily acknowledge it. People will walk out on you having you believe that it was something you had done. It is plain silliness to even draw a limit and think people wouldn't go beyond that. Accusations, lies, blue, green, more lies, and what not. Just to save their faces. How I had believed in everything I was told. It's bizarre. It totally is. I also learned that all those sayings and maxims I grew up listening to, were actually very true. You can invest all your faith in someone; but when the time would come... It will all be ruthlessly disregarded. There is a reason why your elders claim to know better. Because they do know better. 2014 also taught me that time unravels everything. Everything. It is all to time that different instances, little by little, came to make connection all by themselves at the most unexpected places and then it all made sense. Only my reaction was late. I took time to completely register it. And then came a slow, melting realization... There was one of Imam Ali's quotes which I'd often come across. I never truly understood what it meant until now. Now, I don't know where the limits are anymore. I cannot differentiate lie from truth and truth from lie. I was denied the right to truth. I was denied my right to decide for myself. I have had ample occasions to think how life would have been had the nature of my choices was slightly different. But, I don't. Because despite everything, and contrary to what many around me believe, I don't regret my choices. See when you make a choice, you ought to stay by it. Your choices and how you deal with their consequences define you. Because dreary times come, and that is when you are being tested. I was tested. And while taking that test, I discovered So. Much. So much of myself, and so much of my life. In the silence and even in false projections, I learned one thing: that which requires you to explain yourself all the time, isn't worth it. I also learned that it is insanely easy to stay by choices you make by will; regardless of what people mumble. Because sure, people talk, but do they say anything? Hardly. I made a decision of which I was perfectly sure. And despite how momentarily I was let to live the feeling, it was beautiful. It was mine and it was true as long as it lasted. And I cannot let anyone take that away from me by repeatedly telling me that I was the one at fault.

In a more cheerful news, I dreamt my first dream after almost eleven months! (doesn't sound like a big deal, isn't it? Well, shut up. It is). A series of images after months of darkness. It does not matter what it contained. I kind of already knew what I was likely to dream of, if ever I dreamt again, the good part was totally in the fact that I dreamt again. And although it reflected images from my recent past, for once I had a sound sleep. No more falling out of slumber anymore. The same images continued for a certain period, but then it started changing. I don't remember my dreams as clearly now as I used to, but I somehow do manage to recollect enough details. And it has, thankfully, gotten regular now. I had completely forgotten what it is like waking up from a continuous, unbroken sleep. It is true that time happens to heal almost about every wound; but it cannot alter certain feelings or remove certain memories. It can only conceal. I cannot remove from my memory the three-month long period of wait I had to go through. And so, this year I learned, that there is nothing more tormenting than the act of waiting. The worst you can do to damage someone is to inflict upon them an unconditional wait. I was damaged deeply, but then I found my cure. In  Dua-e-Kumayl. It has healing powers. Literally. It brings you right before God and you realize how all that world's 'glitter' is nothing more than a dupe. It makes you realize how insignificant we, the humans, are. And that there is a Source who can exempt you off all afflictions. I may not be very religious, but I am very proper in terms of knowing who I am and where I am from. Hence, with that, I learned that it gets a lot easier to deal with the dreariness once you make God your witness.

A year ago I had a perfect picture of today and the days to come. Today? Nothing in particular. I had imagined two severe possibilities in my head when 2014 had begun. I knew this year will change my life. Either it will take me where I want to be, or it will take me where I ought to be. Right now I have two jobs in hand and a decision made. A week ago, I had none. It's ironical how the flames we particularly want to avoid in life are often the flames we eventually end up dealing with. I got a call from two places for work to which I had very randomly applied to. I never planned on working. But well. I have, however, decided something else: to continue my studies and begin with my Masters program. The story of this decision is an interesting one. It was a year ago when I had confidently announced that I wouldn't be coming back for Masters, entirely because I had my priorities sorted. I had given up my plan of studying further because I thought someone needs me more, and it can't wait. Or so I was told. I was reading into someone else's words. I wouldn't have to come back for Masters. But what do you know, here I am, setting about for my Masters in Literature. It's funny how life works out sometimes. Really.

Wouldn't it have been great, if every new year would've provided us with a blank memory like a fresh new page? No previous stains. Nothing. Like how a friend said, "new year, new beginning". Sigh. I wish it was that easy. You were tough, 2014. I will remember you. I can picture myself standing at my old terrace, on New Year's eve, sending up my earnest prayer and excited to begin with this year. It feels like yesterday. I don't know where did the time go. But I am not going to rant about that. Although this wasn't so much of a good year for me, I am still thankful, for a plenty of better reasons. We moved to our new house. Family members reunited. Friends separated years ago came back together. I thoroughly experienced the transition in life. So of 2014? Amen to fate's design. Amen to friends who didn't give up on me and family, which was ever so understanding. Amen to life. And amen, to the guidance Lights provided me with. The Lights accepted the inherent meaning of my prayer that night, even before I could even understand it myself. I learned only later. Only now. And of 2015? I am not sure what's ahead, and for the first time, I am not concerned. But no new year eve wishes this time. For a change. I will just be. I am no butterflies and unicorns right now. But I am OK. In fact, quite at peace. It feels like I have come a long way. So here, a very happy new year to all the beautiful, genuine people. And Eid-e-Zehra mubarak! I don't think there could be anything better than entering the new year celebrating such an auspicious occasion.

Adieu, 2014. Adieu...

Euphoria III

Read Euphoria II here.

They had come quite some way from the grand entrance; leaving the city capital behind, seemingly walking together now along the lush border. His pace was fast but firm, hers had substantially increased but cautious still. Anybody watching them from a distance would have noticed how she’d been trying to keep up with him. Step by step. Stealing blushful glances on him. Curling her fingers firm around his hand every time they’d slip lose. She was unaware of where they were heading, and unaware she chose to remain. Her heart had found a genuine guide, directions concerned her no more. She had handed her trust, the only possession that ever belonged with her, to him. She was convinced he’d keep it safe. She was sure, he’d not let go of her hand that he had bravely held. Despite them being unusually similar, there were differences that both were aware of. To him, they secretly mattered. But on her part, she was confident.

***

He weighs everything that comes his way, she takes as it is offered. He believes she expects him to be like that huge mountain range of red sand that protects the city of Euphoria, taking the changing weathers and unpleasant raids of time all on itself; hard and still. She on the other hand maintains him like a thick bank of cloud, which is soft and moving, sheltering her from the ruthless sun; and when it’s grey and heavy with gloom, it trusts her enough to pour down all its pain upon her. She rather conceives him that way, than to be unmoving and lifeless like a mountain that lacks the ability to trust and in its sheer arrogance idealizes itself to be self sufficient. She wants him to be like that flexible cloud which knows moving in isolation wouldn’t take it nowhere; which knows how its existence would plainly evaporate in the hollow wind should it hold on within itself. That free spirited bank of cloud which will top all the mountains and cross all the valleys, together with her. That is how she wants him to be. He is, however, far from knowing. And she is yet to tell.

She still gets intrigued by the sight of young pollens twirling with the wind. She still catches the flying feather between her fingers. She solemnly holds her breath if ever a fallen star shoots by. She still collects the beach leaves and looks up to him to complete the wish spell, like he used to. But he correctly remembers that no more. She would throw tiny red hollies playfully at him. He would seldom respond. She would heartily pluck and toss lavender alyssums to him, he would only smile. It secretly surprises her how little things as these no more appear meaningful to him. And how that which she doesn’t quite approve of, charms him. She brings herself to terms with this anyhow, remembering the vow she had made that evening: a little sacrifice for each others’ happiness, a little patience through a time tough and a time unfavorable.

The weather has changed pretty much ever since the city capital has been crossed. The sky is no more blue. The crispy winter hail keeps blowing, with a rough shower every now and then. Her satin gown is soaked and her henna painted feet are now covered in mud. The kohl has washed out, leaving uneven black smudges below her eyes. Her hair that was made beautifully adorned with pink jasmines and white lilies, is now damp and flowing loose. To him, she looks ethereal all the same. Or so she believes. Nothing matters to her as long as she has him next with her. Neither the rain, nor the wind. Neither her kohl smudged eyes, nor her messed up hair. Neither his forgetfulness, nor his sudden soberness. She had left all the strings behind that ever tied him. Or so she thought. For her, nothing had changed much. She was still completely in the state of Euphoria, still rejoicing the festivity of their togetherness. For her, the magic had remained.

For him, however, the change in weather brought a change in design. The river fell into stillness. He came to a sudden halt. His face was clouded. What it meant, she couldn’t fathom. But soon enough, she learned what would follow. He looked deep into her eyes, touched her soul, and breaking a vow of never leaving, he vowed to return. Stunned and numb, all she managed to muster up was a faint smile.

Why she made no attempt to stop him, because he had already warned her. She was, yet again, proven wrong for thinking he acknowledges her little authority that she believes to have developed on him over this journey. With every step that he made away, she was driven deeper into a shell. Receiving the meaningful blows of pouring rain, she collapsed down at a fallen log and fixated her eyes at his shrinking image. He glanced back at her for one last time –something broke inside her –and without a word, without a sign, in the middle of an unknown journey, leaving her all on her own –he disappeared around the corner…

From now onwards, she will no more delight in slumber. She will now wait. Wait for the sky to turn blue again. Wait, for him to return.

Read Euphoria IV here

February

Ever since New Year’s Eve, I feel like a lot of time has passed. But it’s just February yet. Why is it that when we want the time to pass quickly, it crawls like a lethargic snail. And when we want it to stop, it flies by in a blink of an eye? A lot has happened in this span of time. Little little events, that somehow forced me back into a shell that I had left after persevere insistence; gradually decreasing the enthusiasm that I had maintained for this year. I seldom get to see any stars at night these days. The magic line seems to have depleted. Few expectations gone wrong, few plans modified, few beliefs altered –and that too just in the beginning of the year that in my Utopia I had marked to be the one which will be the brightest of all the years I have seen so far. Or maybe, it’s just too early for me to pass any such declaration.
 

I don’t know why  Having so much difficulty moving on and worrying about things that are not in my control. I’ve always known I have self-deceptive tendencies. I find it difficult to register painful, almost unreal truths. I go into a state of sharp denial, pretending to be still ignorant; conveniently hiding myself from all the glaring realities. That is one reason why I sleep a lot when upset. Lying under my quilt, I feel safe. Hidden from the world, hidden from my own self. Hidden from the fears that desire to savage me, hidden from my own life that can suddenly pounce on me whenever it would want.

Hidden and invisible.

But for how long…

The lump in my heart is getting heavier. Day by day. But I’m not letting it take the toll on me. Not yet.  I’m not letting it lose as yet. Not unless I know everything. Not unless I earn every single right to set it free and let the pain prevail. Not yet. So as for now, I’m setting about doing all that might provide me with the slightest of joy, which sooner or later I’m sure to miss. A part of me suggests I must take a break from all this thinking. Perhaps I really think too much. But then, I’m also not being helped! The reasons just keep increasing. And then they come looming over me and I lose my touch. I have been blaming myself for thinking too much –losing my appetite in this course –and creating a problem that wasn’t even there. I am doing that no more. I have reasons valid enough to think. And worry. And join the dots to find out what life has in store for me. Last week I went over to stay with my grandmother. Naani. She knows me best. She could see right through me, no matter how normal I try to behave. I kept avoiding eye contact with her the whole time, but in vain. I knew she wouldn’t let it go and honestly, I didn’t want her to let it go either. She asked my mum to let me stay with her tonight. I knew it was time I tell her all that’s been piling up on me. For how long can one bare to handle the fears all alone? She made me sit close and asked me to tell her every single thing that’s been causing me to cry abruptly at about every little thing. You know how some feelings are? Too difficult to be correctly articulated. I finally allowed it to come out in incoherent and broken syllables. She tenderly hugged me when I was finally done. I never knew she could be so understanding about certain matters. The warmth of her motherly embrace somehow healed the brokenness that was aching my soul. All my insecurities were gone for that instance. I felt safe, invisible almost. It was the prime of vulnerability. I was drained and tired; as weak as I could ever be. Helpless. It was the moment I realized I’ve become somebody I was sure I’d never be. An uninterested, desolated, vulnerable person. Few of the possible harsh truths she told me broke my heart. I cried bitterly and she allowed me to empty myself right before her. But she also told me that I must remain positive. That if I’ve made a vow, I must stand by it and cooperate with the troubles somebody could be going through. I must understand the reasons. She told me that I must wait and cling to what I’ve been holding on to since the very beginning. Faith. She told me, “You prayed at every step, didn’t you? So if you believe Lights have guided you up till here, you must know that Lights will guide you further on.”  She held me close and with her hand in my hair, she soothed me to sleep. I chose to rely on what she’d said. I have soaked all of it in. Believing was a choice I made a few months ago. I am not going to abandon it.  My fears however remain, but they have taken a back seat for now.

I guess in my desire of making things great, I am unknowingly ignoring the good that I already have. Perhaps it’s time I refrain just a little from caring too much. It’s time I fight off certain unnecessary fears. It’s high time I return to people who STILL care. A few days ago a friend told me she’s likely to get a brain hemorrhage worrying about me. I am a selfish thankless person. Another concerned friend genuinely looking into my eyes told me I must not take life so seriously…  She is probably right. I must return to being the light happy person that I’ve always been. So here’s the plan. This week, typical desi breakfast at Sufi’s Dhaba it is! *cross*A movie day out and Cream Cheese Pasta party with these girls. *cross* A combine Skype conference with my school mates. *double cross* I am  planning on attending the Sindhi Festival that’d be coming to Karachi in a week or so as well, with a friend who is just the right amount of insane as I am. *final cross* And, I’m also on to cook something for Amma this very month. *a tentative cross*…
I need to do all this before I get buried under heaps of course work. This semester is going to be tough. Like, toughhhhh. And I say that about every semester. No, really, this is tough!!! But it’s better that way, I guess. The busier I’d be, the lesser I’d get to attend to myself and the fears that will eventually find their way back.

I hope to return with a post much happier than this one. Every year at the commencement of a new semester our university organizes a grand book fair. You can find about every book just there and that too at a very reasonable cost. There are two books I am yearning to get my hands on. How It Happened by Shazaf Fatima Haider and The Time Keeper by Mitch Albom. I might mention what a good read they turned out to be, making my next post naturally a pleasant one.

And by the way, I still strongly consider myself blessed. For reasons that from hindsight I can tell I’d be revealing soon enough. 

 ...

I hope not. I hope not.

October, Anjali Sharma, and Limo Paani

You know how messy it gets coming to the end of the year? When the semester is at its toughest and you seem to have ran out of almost everything –coins, paper pins, ink… Stamina –And seem to have dropped almost everything; pens, books, papers.. Hopes. When you give up drafting those flop study-time tables which by coming to the end you learn are of no use. When the schedule is so tightly packed, you absolutely fail to make out time for ‘people’ around and across; and they complain. When your thoughts are all jumbled up, pace irregular, and time too limited. When you have just SO many things to do, that you end up doing absolutely nothing. Yeah, THAT. 

Two more months, and yet another year... Gone.

It is once again that time of the year, when I find myself standing amidst the unknown fields of nowhere. I have a thick pile of reading to do, a whole stack of papers to fill and a heap of writing assignments to work at. And along with that, I need to take care of my hair (which is falling out like crazy) –please, it’s a serious matter. And of my skin (which has quite badly darkened due to sun exposure) –I am not a beauty conscious or a fitness freak, but hey, it hurts! And of my diet and health (which is declining rapidly). And of my social life (which has recently passed away) –a moment of silence please, at its sad demise. Thank you.

October has begun; the sun has however not yet ceased to torture us. The thin cotton-ish clouds scarcely ever show up, and, even when they do, they are of no help in blocking the brutal sun rays. The deepest, most desired wish that I am yearning for (after a series of other most desired wishes), is of rain. I earnestly wish to wake up to a heavy downpour, and , like always in times like these, get drenched to the bones and twirl and whirl in the swishing cool water like Anjali Sharma… Running free of all the shackles and ties and boundaries, leaving behind all that burdens a soul so fragile; but, sigh, it wouldn’t happen, because of a great number of reasons.

Reason#1:  I am (sadly) not Anjali Sharma.
Reason#2: It doesn’t rain in Octobers in Karachi. Or in Octobers. Or in Karachi.

Yes, there are only two, but they are big enough.

The purpose of this post is however not to record my rants and ramblings.

You know how sometimes a little moment of joy, a tiny adventure, a new experience, a spark and a genuine smile can practically make your day? Yes.  Hence, the motivation to write this post.

Walking from our department all the way to the university gate, that too in this heat and that too at this rate of talking, our throats had practically dried out. The water cooler at the bank had karwa paani, of which, by the way, I had taken a huge sip in sheer haste; later I spat it out. Nauseating. LITERALLY. Blekh (I hope it wasn’t cancerous. I am obsessed with cancer these days. Not that I’d die. Because, oh well, a couple of days ago a friend saw me in her dream where I died, which according to the interpretation implies that my age has increased. Pfffft).

Anyways. Back to the topic.

To help quench our thirst, a friend very confidently, with that follow-me-l-know-where-heaven-is attitude walked us out of the university gate and introduced us to a kind, and indeed a very noble gentleman.

The Limo Paani Waala.

A wooden pushcart (quite like that of street vendors, in a poorer condition though) draped with green plastic sheet, having small greenish-yellow lemons arranged at the top of medium sized kachay drinking glasses that were lined at one side, a slab of thick ice at the other and the noble gentleman at the far end dressed in a faded brown cotton shalwar kameez, holding a citrus squeezer in his hand, awaited us; accompanied by a few flies, under the neem tree that had little birdies resting at its tiny branches. Unhygienic? I don’t think so.

Unfortunately, couldn't click the picture of the real limo-paani walay bhai.

As mentioned quite many times, I am not particular about things. If there is something that I like, I like it and I’ll have it. No questions asked and no unnecessary concerns. It is always fun to try up new things; the weirder, the better.

--Yaar tum yeh piyo, bohot mazay ka hota hai.

-Bhaiya, kitnay ka glass hai?

-10 rupay. 

Affordable. Might as well take another glass.

-Bhai mujhay thaili mei dijiyega.

--Mujhay glass mei.

---Mujhay bhe glass mei!

--Yaar, tum yeh piyogi nah, tum roz aogi peenay. Itnaa achha hota hai!

-Behen,who dega tou piyungi nah?

--Haan piyo, bohot achha hota hai.

---Teeesri dafa bol rahi ho yeh baat tum! In bhai ne publicity karnay ka commission diya hai kyaa?

--Tum piyo tou saheeh!

-SHUT UP!

(She intentionally does this, just so to annoy us).

We sat at the footpath under the shade of the same neem tree with limo paani ke kachay glass and (in my case) limo paani ki thaili. Qingqi rickshaws, public buses, cars, bikes, carts, pedestrians, all went by eyeing us for a second or two, and then moving on carelessly. In this heat and in this rush, nobody cares what people are up to, as long as they’re minding their own businesses.

The chilled, energizing limo paani went tickling down our dry throats, giving start to a very random conversation.
(The conversation has been cut short and details omitted, because; #1: they are embarrassing. #2: they require a long contextual background. And #3: they wouldn't make sense). 

-I wonder where we’d be five years from now.

--Khairiat hai?

-Shushh!

---Yeah, I wonder the same…

--You have lost all the right to express uncertainty, miss engaged! We all know you would be married, and most probably a mother to a couple of troublesome kids!

---I am so going to miss this! University is fun, don’t you think?

-It definitely is. Gets quite tiring though, but I like it here.

---Would you remember me after like, 10 years from now?

-That would depend.

---Why, whut?

-Yeah… I think I have brain cancer. My brain cells are dying, I think I have Alzheimer’s…  I hardly remember stuff!

(All three of them): Oh shut up you!

---The other day you had stomach cancer!

--Yeah, and day before you had skin cancer!

-LOLLLL! Of course I would remember you. I have had the best time of my life with you guys.. Umm.. well… Skipping the early few months..Yeah, close enough to best.

-We’ve done some crazy, hilarious stuff together! Remember walking barefoot to the gate in heavy downpour?

--LOL! One of the things I had alwayyyys wanted to do!

-And that song? Mai Tharki Hun?
--Sharminda nah karo!

*fits of laughter*

--And Teri Yaadein?

*Another fit of laughter*

--Remember Sir Irfan’s comment? “Tum fauth tou nahe honay waaleen?”

-OHMYGOD! It was so embarrassing!

--You have LOST written all over your face!

-WHATEVER!

---Remember how bizarre things were exactly a year ago?

-Yeah.. I was ready to give up everything to run away from here.

--And from us.

-And from you guys, yes…

---I am glad everything’s settled.

-So am I.

--So am I!

---So, where were we?

-Here.

--Here.

-Mera limo paani khatam –

---Shush! I meant, let’s get back to the topic we were at.

--You want us to get back to your shaadi ka topic, right? Huh. Self-obsessed.

---NO! I want us to discuss (pointing) ‘her’ shaadi ka topic –

-OHMYGOD! Guess what?! ‘Somebody’ returned from the coma…

--Who…?

-GUESS!

--POKE?

-YESSSS!

*a monstrous fit of laughter*

--LOL!! What timing! Why don't normal things happen to you?

-I know, right?

--Pehlay nahe hosh aasakta thaa?!

---LOL! Tch tch tch, wait till I tell ‘people’ about this.

-Who people?

--AH! I KNOW WHO SHE’S TALKING ABOUT!

-WHO?! Oh, wait…–

---Luc –

-Shushhh!

--No no, complete your sentence–

- –SHUSHHH! I’ll throw this limo paani at you!

And with that, we went about sharing another whole lot of crazy stuff and some super-personal jokes, and laughing like retarded seals at some insanely unfunny things. We tend to laugh at the most silly things, because that is what you do, no? Being the passengers of the same boat, saving each other from drowning; and making the most out of little moments; because it is these little moments that matter the most.

Covering the long distance in a cheerful ride back home, a sudden realization that had always been there but too shy to ever show up, finally revealed itself; we, as people, are not free. This way or the other, we are bound by certain sets of values and bind by certain kinds of roots. Roots, that prevent us from crossing the lines, keep us on track and move us all in a circle that we're all connected with.
Hence, in situations like these, when imagining yourself to be Rahul Raichand's free spirited Anjali Sharma is not an option; a little gossip, a lot of laughs and a glass of limo paani is ALL what you need to get back working again.