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.

Withdrawal

I am the kind of person, who needs to write to really know what exactly is running in mind. Things get really hazy when I don’t write for too long. Although I scribbled down incoherent details hastily of how my life is these days in my previous post, there’s still a lot that I missed out; and a lot that happened after it. And to bring it out in proper words seem like quite a task. But I shall try.

Throughout this time, I have been having a sharp transition of perspectives.  I felt bad and I felt miserable; I believed in what I had believed since the first day, but the evidences then compelled me to see what as well seemed pretty much the truth. I fought with people who asserted their judgment on me, and I remained silent. I accepted my vulnerability, and I also overcame it. I have had to make a lot of choices ever since. But it has been quite some time since I’ve stopped telling people my reasons. I only smile now, to whatever theories they propose. When there’s a secret you’ve got to protect, that’s the best you can do. –Yes, it has been over a month, and I still get to receive ‘comments’ and failed-heart-consoling propositions from people who know nothing. Consolations that I don't even need! People around make up things, sometimes I guess to really make me feel good; and sometimes, perhaps, to make themselves. I have all the right to think whatever I wish against or in favor of someone I used to know, but I can’t allow anyone else to speak badly of someone they don’t even know. I have been badly hurt, yes, and I am extremely angry, yes; but I still feel some... Some... I don't know... Some kind of... How do I put it? How do I explain what I feel when I fail to hold up my anger for long? I am essentially not a mean person. I hate it when I see myself failing in holding up my anger for someone who handed me a bouquet of twisted stories and lies, and disappeared without even bidding proper farewell --that's just the tragedy with me; not being able to accept the wrong people can do to your sincerity. But that's my problem, why do people find it so hard to mind their goddamn business?! They would keep asking if I’m OK, which would only remind me that I am not. Hence, the seclusion. I no longer bother about people. I no longer speak to anyone. I absolutely no longer let people talk about it to me. I didn't know I was capable of being rude to people. But then there were many other things of which as well I thought I wasn't capable.

I had my fourth appointment with the doctor just yesterday; he said I’m doing well. Only two more to go and then I’d be done. It has been a long way…

I turned Twenty-One a couple of weeks ago. I was excited and nervous and secretly despairing; but feeling special about my birthday was exceptionally not the deal this year, like I always used to. It feels like yesterday how I used to hold my breath and count the minutes of my birthday only to make sure I thoroughly lived my birth day. Now when I look back, it feels like I’ve come so far, having lost everything behind. I assumed June 19th to feel like… Just another day. Just another day when I would wake up struggling against a shriveling lump in my heart. The plan was to spend the day reading Kahlil Gibran. His writings are out of this world. You would wonder, how a person, perhaps just so ordinary yet too thoughtful, can fathom thoughts so perfectly into ethereal words? Words, those are likely to stay with you for long. But the day did not turn out the way I had thought (like many other things, of course). I couldn’t have the day to myself. I did not know my Chachi and cousins have planned to surprise me with a cake and stuff at midnight; until my mother told me ten minutes before their arrival that they are coming. I was a little disappointed, she ruined my surprise!? But that was because she said "kaheen tum rona nah shuru hojao". I mean... Whatever. So I had to 'act' surprised when they came. It was good anyhow, to see them all screaming happy birthday in my ear. The next day my entire nanihaal (sparing you the pain of reading those long names) landed at our place with a cake (which was heavenly!!!) and just some other ‘party’ stuff. Naani  hugged me, and wished me good health; she said I must make a fresh start this year, and I swear I welled up. Later we went out to the only place that really makes me happy; the beach. I guess it was better that way. Having people around does make it easier. A couple of days later my best friend came home to post-celebrate my birthday. She said she wanted to make this birthday as special for me as she could. How much effort they all put in only to keep our pieces together. My cousins however flew back at the end of my birthday week. They had me engaged long enough to find my way back. But then, they too, left. I’m not going to rant over that though, I had an extremely amazing time with them. In fact, the sole reason why I recovered from my illness was because they were here to help and support me in every possible way. I cried BUCKETS when they left, creating a whole scene at the airport (why does it feel funny now when I replay it in my head?). But it was OK. It was upsetting, but it wasn’t painful, because they weren’t gone.

I also made few new friends on Twitter. The same good people I used to dislike JUST because I saw them through someone else's perspective. They and their lives are opposite of what I was told. It's a pity. You know that feeling, when you see certain contradictory statements unraveling right before your eyes? You are disappointed, angered, despaired. And yet, you can't even go back and throw them in the face. Why? Because not doing that makes you a better person. Knowing that you have a clear conscience is, I tell you, a blessing. 'Cause whether you admit or not, regrets happen to eat your soul. I maintained my limits and was always truthful, that saves my soul. I also resumed interaction with my old followers on Twitter that I had suspended just because I had my priorities sorted, unlike some. It felt good, being back; with my guards multiplied and up.

I discovered few new places with my creepy cousins too. One was this café, Le Grand Coffee Lounge. Somewhere at… I don’t know, Zamzama? Whatever place it was, it was amazing. Too colorful and lively. I don’t particularly like cafés; one reason honestly being that I have never really been to any except for ghisaa pitaa  Gloria Jean’s (I hate their peach iced tea, blekh!) and Dunkin' Donuts (if you feel like counting it as a cafe). This place was good.  I tried their Chicken Lasagna (although that place is particularly famous for its flavored sheesha), and to be fair, it lacked spices and THE LASAGNA taste. Another place that I liked better than Le Grand, was Espresso. They make some delicious chocolate cookies! And Sattar Buksh, a weird place. But incredibly creative. They have a funny menu. Bhinnot Bun Kabab. Badtameez Burger. Topless Besharam Burger. Dehshatgard Pizza. Lol! We also relived our childhood by paying a visit to the only amusement park we loved; Sindbad. That place contains too many, JUST TOO MANY memories! I don’t know when was the last time I was there… We repeated the tradition of taking double rides of every ride available. The Crazy Bus. Dumbo. Log Slide. Dodging Car. DRAGON TRAIN. There are also many new additions. I guess Sindbad is the only place that still sells Polka cup ice-creams. Oh, the childhood joys!
I might as well mention here the damn load of movies I was forced to watch. Prometheus, Lone Survivor, Wolf of the Wall Street, Holiday, Nightmare at the Elm Street, Olympus has Fallen, Her, Iron-Man, Highway and a couple of which I don’t remember. I avoided re-watching Silver Linings Playbook.  I fell in love with Her, and Highway was beautiful. The rest were so boring, so boring, so boring... I don’t even know how boring. But I watched them anyway only because they watched the movies I had suggested. We completed our Friends marathon and re-watched the Hangover Series thrice to soak in as much Allen Garner as we could.  The time really flew by with them, and I didn’t even realize that I am improving.

In another news, I and my family have moved to a new house. It's only been three days. I have spent a major part of my life in there; it was difficult. That place and that time still lingers in my thoughts. All the change had come so suddenly, I didn't know how to deal with it. I realized I am suffering from withdrawal symptoms when I woke up and it took me some time to register that I am no longer on my gray iron bed, in my old lilac painted room. The walls here are painted silver gray. Everything's new, everything has changed, and I don't exactly know how I feel about it. Also, I no longer share room with my brothers. I thought I'd be happy at this. I'm not.

I had conditioned my mind to leave everything behind in that old house. I wasn't ready, but the time had come. So I pretty much knew I would have to bear withdrawal anxiety, when I finally decided to empty my phone memory. Who was I keeping it all for, when I didn't even for once reread the hollow words after cutting off the last link? It was only a prominent reminder which I was saving just because I wasn't willing to let go. I wanted to believe that maybe, some of it, was really true. I just wanted to see the old reflection. They said getting rid of the reminders is the first step of letting go. I took it. I also got myself a hair cut. Although I had decided I wouldn't get a haircut because I was told not to get it cut short. After a year, I've had it anyway. Because really, whose wish was I adhering to? This was another little step. They also said a new place and open air (since this new house is away from the hustle of main city) will make it much easier for me to get my health back and make a new start. Well.

I vented out all my grievances in a letter to Imam Hussain -we call it areeza- which he received on the 15th of Shaban. Awesome, isn't it? My answers, I have faith, will be delivered soon. And ever since, the pain has substantially lessened, but has not really left. I play well in showing that I am improving, it only hurts when I realize that if there is someone who suffered and is still struggling, it is me. The one responsible has walked away absolutely unaffected. It's a shame, how people fix themselves by breaking others. Why?! I get so agitated when I think of it. What wrong did I do? And what difference did my last few words make anyway? Although I muted the tweets and blocked out all profiles and sources that would, even accidentally, update me of the whereabouts. I have never known in all my life of what I must do; but I have always known what I must not. I am good at avoiding stuff that I know will cause me pain. And yet, it at times hurts; mistake me not, it's no more that sacred feeling. For me, love is rooted in respect. I lost it from my heart the day I realized I am being taken as nothing but an option. And this, in reality, is what aches. It is this betrayal that keeps coming back to me. How I had so effortlessly put someone in priority. I trusted. I vowed to support till the end. I made every effort to convince everyone. Against all, I invested my faith in someone.  And what did I get for my goodwill? Except for countless "I told you so" statements from people? -Not even a single appropriate reason. Only a dreary silence. I just never had wished to remember and be remembered as someone who didn't care, or wasn't willing enough, or changed her mind, or backed off. I can never know how I am remembered, neither do I want to find out; dejection falls on me only when I see myself remembering the time and person in it in all the ways I thought I won't. You can't help feeling bad about things that you revered beautiful once, now, can you? People and the words they say to you don't usually turn out the way they seem and are spoken. People and their plans change, once they're out of danger.

It’s not that I am not trying. I am trying harder than I thought I am capable of. It might be easy for others, but it is not for me. I am going to take my time. As much as it requires. I decided not to talk about again; but the truth is, I have never had a blow as sharp as this one, and so I can’t help it. In all this mess, however, one thing was clear; if everyone is saying the same thing, there must be at least some truth in it. It is plain stupidity to ignore the evident and believe in superficial propositions just because you want to. My life was pretty simple. But I guess sometimes despite all our goodwill and good intention, fate wins anyway. Now here I am. Drained, but stronger. Paying visits to hospital. For I don’t even know what. For trusting too much, maybe. For expecting too much. For depending too much. For revering promises way to much. And for a lot of other stuff –the reflection on which I’d keep till the New Year ’s Eve. That would be for the last time I’d ever talk about it --(I haven't completely given up my timing habit).

Also, Ramzan has just begun. One year behind the line, I was a genuinely happy person, looking forward to certain promises. Now I have to put in a certain amount of effort to feel happy. I remember how I was eager to master culinary skills. I have given up on that. I remember how I was changing... And sure enough, I did. Just not the way I had thought. The only good change that happened, was that I started praying regularly. And I thankfully still do. Except that I no longer pray for someone the way I always had. I am not as noble to pray with goodwill even after how awfully someone may break my heart, my trust, my promises and pretty much my every belief. I don't know where the limits are anymore. I don't know, what to believe in anymore. Not even a single day passes by when I don't tell God how much it had ached; not even a single day goes by, when I don't tell Him how I am unable to forgive. He listens.

Anyway. I am trying to get used to here, in my new house. It lacks a terrace, but has an open corridor and a spacious roof top; which means I can still see the sky. I was in a hospital when I checked my emails after quite some time, and I was delighted to see messages from people appreciating Euphoria. I really had no idea so many people actually follow it. It was heart warming, really. I have drafted the final two episodes; it is a tragedy how my Euphoria ended within only five posts... But that is just how it was supposed to be. This place inspires me to write. Too much greenery around; too good a therapy. So I think I'd be writing more often now.

I still have a couple of weeks before my final semester begins. Interesting how only a few months ago I had it all decided, and now I am clueless of what would I do after I'm done with my final semester. I am leaving it on time to decide for me, like it always has.

I am back listening to Keane and Snow Patrol. They are doing wonders for me. Pure nostalgia; which is helping find my lost bits and pieces.

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.