An Unfinished Portrait

You know what’s annoying? When the unforeseen circumstances spring out of nowhere and hinder your plans. My exams are continuously getting postponed and I am frustrated! I’d say again, like I have often said before, why is it that time crawls like a snail when we want it to pass by fast? I have been counting every second till my exams get over to finally sigh out what I’ve been holding inside since so long. Heart begins to sink when it is loaded with a bulk of things. It can contain in it only so much. And so to keep it afloat, it is important to let a few things out. And what a terrible mistake it is, to have no one to talk you out of your despair. Like I read in one of Mitch Albom’s books, you need to keep people close.

A year ago, my life was free from stains of abandoned promises and broken expectations. I was a happy, enthusiastic person like I’ve always been. I remember talking endlessly and laughing at and cracking silly jokes. I remember my hunger attacks; I remember dragging my friends to the cafeteria and then wondering what to eat. I remember readily believing in everything people told me about themselves and how they appeared, it was the simplest thing. I remember how I always believed that people are essentially good. I remember enjoying and gaining something out of each day that passed. Now when I look back, it seems like I’ve come so far since then. I don’t act much now. Don’t feel like talking, don’t feel like eating. I don’t feel anything at all these days.

Or *felt.

Things have been coming to me since the very beginning, only I was a fool to deliberately overlook them. Because that is what you do when you want to save your relationship, no? It came to me only later, that you make sacrifices only when there is hope; it is otherwise an act of dishonoring your own self. A few of the incidents that happened during the course which helped me find my way back are worth mentioning.

A couple of weeks ago it rained in Karachi. I have never identified rain with despair. It has always been a source of joy, contentment, and tranquility for me. I remembered how I always texted everyone telling them it’s raining outside; knowing that it need not to be told that it’s raining, that it’s obvious, but that was just another little thing that I loved doing. That was just another thing that made me ‘me’. This time for some reasons, I didn’t feel like texting anyone. I remained in my room, inhaling and absorbing the scent of verdant earth. My phone vibrated, and much to my amusement, simultaneously came the texts of two of my very old friends. Both asking me why haven’t I texted them yet about the weather like I always used to. I missed myself. But that wasn’t it, a while later, my phone rang and it was my Chachu on the other side, and the first thing he asked, after I said hello, was if I was OK. “Yes… Why?” I asked, puzzled by his question. “It’s raining outside. I kept waiting for your text exclaiming it’s raining or ohmygod look at the weather; but it never came. Are you OK, little one?” My heart sank… Really? And that was when I realized that people miss me too. People who care. People who have always cared. And I have been very unjust to all of them.

When people who really love you come to you at unlikely times, you find something truly important which teaches you to live again. Down came to Karachi few of my old cousins almost a month back. I grew up with them and together we have shared a childhood that I will cherish forever. Being beach lovers since always, we went down to sea view a number of times, and talked about old days and reflected on what life has become today. Sunsets and the sound of sea waves induce nostalgia, does it not? From each other, we learn to live. All of us, if you look closely, are trying to save each other from falling apart. Where words can act like injurious weapons; they can also function as healing catalyst to the same wounds. A cousin come best friend, in her far off tone told me a few things that I wished she hadn't told me, but also for which I was really thankful. It was a state of ambivalence. She said it cannot be love if doesn’t make you a better person. It cannot really be love which requires you to get on your knees to win it. How could a person claim to love you, when he is trapped in his public persona? If he cares more of how people would judge him should he hold your hand, you know where you stand. If a person has his way only with words but doesn’t have the courage to come up and ask for your hand, you know what you gotta do."What good is love if it is uncommitted, no? You have always settled for things lesser than you really deserve. Love needs courage and honesty. It needs to be genuinely felt. People who treat it as just some emotion easy to walk in and give hasty promises in their temporary feeling only to conveniently walk out of them, are not worth it. There is always a reason why a person ends up alone. It’s not because love didn’t come to him. It is because he didn’t treat it well when it actually did. Don’t always sympathize with those who are alone. Sometimes they really are at fault. Sometimes, they really deserve being alone. You must know that those who always see others at fault are the ones who are at fault themselves. Your simplistic views don’t change the fact that half truths are more or less similar to lies. Your fanciful approach to life doesn’t change the fact that one sided stories are… Well. Just remember, losing yourself for those who messed up your happy life just because they couldn’t have one of their own is not justifiable. Because that is unfair; to those who still wish to see you the way you were, and also to your own self. Pull yourself together, revisit the memory for one last time and destroy it, so you could accommodate new ones, pleasant ones.  Let it hurt you all at once than allowing it to kill you in episodes. Do what you are being signaled to do. You’ve been given several chances, why does it not occur to you that Nature is trying to save you? Why does it not occur to you, that this is an answer to your prayer, to your letters that you’ve written? Where did all your faith go? Everything, everything happens for a reason. Do, what you must."

I pulled up a smile, and stared back at the vast sea that stretched endlessly before me. There wasn’t a single word that did not make sense. It all did. Only I wasn’t ready to accept it. That is just how nauseatingly obedient and convinced I was. The waves kept coming back to the shore, they hopelessly kept coming back. And with them, they brought questions that I was, and still am, yet to answer. Should those, who you loved so dearly at one point in your life, deserve to be despised regardless of how they treated you? Should those who made a mess of your life and abandoned you deserve forgiveness? Should moments that you once cherished, deserve a woeful reminiscence? And most of all, is it really time?

You know, while something is happening, we don't realize how grand it is until some time passes, and then we look back at it with great fondness. For me however, certain events were already so 'grand' while they were happening, I didn't require time. I was well aware in the moments, and felt every bit of em just when they were happening. I felt it when I was entering 2014 that this year will be a life changer. I felt it when I walked bare foot in pouring rain soaking the water of heaven in my bones. I felt it when I bunked the compulsory 8:30 class with my friends for the sake of our little adventure to a dhaaba for halwa poori ka naashta. I felt it when I laughed at the most ridiculous jokes with my friends until my stomach ached and I couldn't breathe. When I first experienced a new emotion and decided to take a leap of faith, I felt it. I felt it walking down the parking lot on a drizzly afternoon of August. I felt it when I made a choice and decided to fight for it. I felt each bit of it. I also felt the intensity of those certain moments that came to me time by time showing the transition of life right before my eyes, and transforming me into somebody I was sure I'd never be. Sitting there, absorbing the sound of sea waves, I wondered again, is it really time to put an end? I sighed.

...And I heard myself say yes.

Prior to that, I also got certain of my wrongly stated facts corrected from the most unexpected sources. I remembered what Naani always told us, Duniya gol hai. Never truly understood the correct meaning until the time came. The contradictions were striking, so was the disappointment. But I chose not to go into details to spare myself of knowing anything else. Whatever the story maybe, what did it matter anyway now? I had endured enough. What felt bad was how my sincerity was mistaken as stupidity; how even being a curious and an intuitive person, I remained silent to the obvious lies and contradictions which was sadly mistaken as my dumbness. I was filled with a number of ambiguous emotions. But of all, the most powerful was of gratitude. To The Lights. I then found the courage to add final strokes to an unfinished portrait. I shrugged off all my prejudices against people I didn’t even know. I shrugged off my dislike against people I always saw through someone else’s perspective. It felt silly. I was never this person.

It is very amazing how a little daring act can bail you out of a number of burdens that were not even yours to carry in the first place. I did what I believed was right. Like it is said, a graceful refusal is better than a lengthy promise. I have heard and read a thousand narratives of how Imams kept their promises and what it is meant to give a promise. I set about keeping the ones I had given, regardless of how the ones I was given were broken. I was sincere, that made me weak. I was hurt, that filled me with anger of despair. But in my anger, I did not forget who I am. Because had I been brutal with my words, that would have made me no different. It wasn’t easy, but it did dispel the phantoms that turned me into an emotional wreck, and helped me break free of a vicious circle of twisted mysteries. All those years when I was growing up, I listened in different majalis how God doesn’t forgive the one who has hurt you as long as you don’t. I grew up with Naani telling me that we must forgive people who hurt us so that God forgive them too. We must not inflict such a curse on someone. She said forgiving people only makes us better and raises us in the eyes of God. All that time, I thought I am capable of forgiving people. It was only now that I learned I’m not. I don’t have the ability to forgive those who walked out of my life as conveniently they had walked in giving away hollow promises in sheer haste. They might be mere words for them, but they weren’t for me. I don’t have the capacity to forgive those who were ‘kidding’ themselves all along, and in that they created a mess of my life. Forgiving is a right, and it’s up to me whether I use it or not. And I choose not to. Not anywhere soon at least.

Another significant thing that I learned, was how wrong I was in timing myself. I had only limited myself to time-marks blindly believing that things will work out only after my calculated time. I wouldn’t do what I must do until so and so month. I wouldn’t start working to get myself back until this date. I wouldn’t blog until the exams get over. And so on. What I didn’t realize, despite being well aware, that time is fluid and life is happening. By the time you cover a certain milestone, a lot of unforeseen incidents take place and plans ultimately change. I had only bound my actions to unnecessary time-posts that only delayed my peace. I didn’t do what I should have done earlier just because I had timed myself. I didn’t do what I thought I’d do when I will find the will to completely let go, and then it was too late. It was only after how a friend told me, that what I cannot do today, cannot be done tomorrow either. "What can be done tomorrow, can also be done today. Find the will. Only you can change your life." Where words are capable of depriving you of hope; they also serve well to fill you with inspiration. I really sometimes fail to believe they are my friends, how do they do that? Because surprisingly enough, she had me convinced. Something... Clicked.

So. I broke my time marks, and the membrane of vulnerability. My exams are still on, and I posted a blog. Because I had decided that after I write a post about it, I might get some closure. I will no more look back at it with regret, that wouldn’t be fair. I am slowly getting back to socializing and practicing more talking. The last week has been quite well. Chachu was leaving for Dubai again, this time for a long stay, so I had a good family time when we went over to stay at his place and then planned a grand farewell dinner for him. And then luckily, the people I hold very dear, the people who had flown thousand miles away, are back for vacations to where they really belong –Home. So I spent most of my time with them, going out at night to the beach or watching seasons of Friends and ordering food or simply talking all night. I feel amazingly healthy. And you thought right, I do have my exams going on. Yeah well.

Tomorrow there is Milaad and Niyaaz at home, so everyone will be here tonight, keeping up the tradition of making meethi pooriyan together. I love how traditions tie us in a strong bond. I love how family’s support helps you get over every sorrow. Life feels a lot less dreary when you have such a family that knows how to value relations and adhere to traditions, and a handful of genuine friends who keep you from falling apart. They didn't give up on me even after how hopelessly I gave up on myself. Having felt their concerns so closely, I am truly grateful. And this had to be confessed, 'cause gratitude that is not expressed is of no good to anyone.

The dreams however have completely stopped appearing. But in due course, I am convinced, they will appear again. There are a few more updates, but I will keep them to share later. I am writing after some time, so I've tried quite hard to make the post appear cohesive. Hope it does. I will also share the pictures of the food and milaad as well in my next post.

…It is only now that I realize what my portrait really consists of.

A broken heart would do.

d you ever wanted something so badly that you were afraid of actually having it? Had ever you’ve been in a vicious circle that all you could think of doing for escape was to hold your breath and shut your eyes tight? And count to ten… Maybe suddenly your eyes will pop open and it would turn out all to be a bad dream?

Had you ever trusted in people so blindly, so religiously, that it became impossible to believe they’ve lied to you? Had you ever regarded certain things absolutely impossible to ever happen to you? Had you ever avoided saying it out loud to yourself, fearful that it might sweep you off your feet and you'd break into tiny, irreparable pieces? Had you ever, in life, attended a reality in episodes? Only so it will hurt just a little less…

Most nights I come here, trying to bring together pieces of my crumbled world. Most nights I go out in the open and stare blankly up at the sky; searching for the only thing that I’ve always been afraid to lose. The soft light of moon keeps trying to pass through the frame of thin clouds, but seldom does it succeed in reaching down at me. Why can I no longer see?

I cannot help but muse on how in a matter of few odd days everything changed ‘cause of reasons untold. It’s been over a month now since I’ve last had a dream; which is very unusual for me. –Maybe because I no longer get to have a continuous sleep. My unconscious keeps pushing me off at intervals, I keep waking up in the middle of the night as if I’m waiting for something... I am still engaged in untying an endless knot, because sure enough, my wait isn’t over yet. Though I’ve decided (and very much hoping) not to wreak a mess any more. I’ve done enough damage to people around me, and I cannot bear to take on any further guilt. Falling terribly sick, almost ruining a family wedding, having my friends worried to the core and agonizing my family –I don’t think I could’ve hurt as many people in several ways all at once any more, even if I’d tried. It is a complex feeling, when people you’ve hurt the most so effortlessly forgive you and attempt to reach back JUST because they love you. Is it not insane, how love can give someone the power to break you?

Over the course, something’s sunk so low inside me, I can’t find it anymore. I wake to a familiar feeling of pain and with the same feeling I return back to sleep. From a hearty laughter I abruptly switch to sobbing without even realizing. I drift into another realm of universe ruminating over little things that were so much more than just words and actions for me. There’s perhaps nothing more dangerous than an unspoken emotion. There was so much I wished to say, so much I couldn’t. I kept waiting for the right time, but it never came. And I’m yet to completely register that it’s likely to never come.—Initially, none of it made sense. I kept waiting hopelessly –for just one reason –just an answer –just a word! But, nothing. I kept digging to find out what went wrong, where did I go wrong? And again, nothing. I kept going back to make sense how one day my world was perfect and the other day suddenly it was flipped upside down, and to trace an answer to how’s and why's; but all that followed was a heart wrenching silence. —Now, the space has shrunk so small as to accommodate the arrival of any reason, any word. Now it wouldn't change anything; it will rather, in fact, just add more to an ache that never leaves me. The wait has been internalized and the pain's been here long enough, I’ve become immune to it. It’s devastating once you realize you have been wronged, that too by the one you least expected. It can tear you apart and you cannot even wince. You can only wait. And so I am. The how’s and why’s keep lingering around me –I deliberately overlook them. Certain associations put me in a fast train back few months, tears well up–I force them back to where they come from. And that is when it returns, hurting a bit more than usual, giving rise to an unidentified twinge somewhere in my chest which aches bitterly; but slowly, gradually, disappears back into the emptiness…

As unreal this particular instance feels, the pain is just as real. I hold my breath in a hope that maybe, just maybe, this is all a part of some bad dream that I’m into. But I can hold my breath for only so long; and when I ultimately sigh out, I find myself just where I was left. For how long will I go on with this disoriented mental state, I cannot quite tell. But it’s better that way. I know I cannot completely escape, and eventually I will have to come back to it. And so I will. But now isn’t the right time. Maybe after the semester. Maybe after I’ve compensated for the damage I’ve caused to people around me. Maybe after I’ve gathered enough strength to embrace the void and face whole of it directly. Maybe after I am sure. Maybe then.

The reason as well why I came here tonight was to hear myself say it out loud to myself. I knew I had to gather it all and just write. It’s comforting. Tonight is probably the last time I am exhausting my tear glands and letting my mind go haywire; the last time I am holding on tight whatever little I still have, before finally letting it go. Till then, –along with my academic studies that I cannot right now afford to risk on –watching movies and reading would do to keep me going. I’ll find solace in Disney films, and would conform to everything my friends and family say. If my eating proper and smiling and talking again will compensate for the hurt, I’ll do. I can spend only so much time playing with kids and cartoons can make me laugh only for so long, but it would do. Till then, denial is healthy and numbness would do. Till then... A broken heart would do.

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.