ill be back.

thankyou to everyone who cares :)

(pray for her)

-

Ho hum.

Empty room, empty mind.

I only talk in clichéd sentences now it seems.

Goodbye.

beginnings

The sky turned a shade greyer as we drove by, watching the black sea illuminated by flood lights that dotted the night sky so very geometrically. Inky blue met with white light, a perfect union, a mingling together that brought bursts of star dust and sparkles. Children, such children we were. One of us in anticipation, one of us in depression, and one of us suffering from acute starvation. We got out, huddled together for warmth and shared one shawl because those two were too cool to embrace the fact that they needed sweaters. He went off to buy his bigmac, he fidgeted with his watch, and she looked into the pale blue of the sea for answers. Amidst his loud and obnoxious chomping accompanied with semi-horny grunts of a satiated appetite was idle chatter and mindless sentences. They spoke because they had to, not because they felt like. It had never been like that before; there had been a need for filling up awkward silences, primarily because they never had any. But today, things changed, and all three of them were more introspective, partially more intoned with what was happening to them, a sweet sort of narcissism. Finally he was done, cigarettes were stomped on, frozen behinds were dragged of damp benches and the walked to the car.

So this is what growing up feels like.

so wont you stay american baby?

Its supposed to be happy days followed by intoxicated nights and bliss filled tomorrows. Its meant to be carefree and careless.
Tomorrows supposed to be whiles away and years apart from here.

From the now.

From the clear.

Fuck.

ends

And so, another chapter in my life ends. Another story, another conclusion, another full stop. One more tale to tell, one more memory to remember, one more embarrassing moment never to be recounted.

It’s a year of ends, and one of scary beginnings.

She left last night, left on a jet plane. Good luck at Cambridge love, make me proud.

I have a university interview on Sunday, im scared.

Those were the last set of school exams ill ever give, the last time ill write my name on the smudgy grey Kgs paper, I always wrote my name in huge block letters, for some reason I thought it symbolized knowing something.

That was the last time ill cheat Economics mcq’s from A. And that’s the last time ill nearly get caught. It’s the last time ill scribble on my paper with glee, and stare around when im done early.

That was the last time we’ll celebrate at the beach. With Z’s portable cd player that we used to kick in order to start, and A’s freakishly addictive dip. We won’t  lie down in front of the sea and laugh for hours on end. We won’t dance in the sea and then end up falling and drenching ourselves. We wont drive back listening to Coldplay and singing along to Mr Brightside.

‘Man, im going to miss you guys when I go to college. Who’s going to sing with me?’


Im packing up my stuff, moving is terrifying. Ive lived here all my life, slept in the same bed, messed up the same bathroom. And now, I leave my designated comfort zone, the place where I celebrated my first birthday in my ugly blue frilly dress to enter unknown territory. I came across a whole carton of Archie comics today, and threw them all away. There was a time when I was banned from reading them, my mother told me I would start writing like betty and veronica, reading good literature teaches you how to write.

I would still read them, just behind close doors. I kept one for memories sake.

The rest of my college applications leave soon, im leaving this country next year.

Im leaving my house next week.

He left two days ago.


The brain of the disco has turned into porridge.

The sky is orange and pink, with little specks of gold, glimmering, winking and eventually shying away.  

annie are you ok, are you ok annie?

Michael Jackson has officially joined the nation of Islam.

He’s even come up with a song about us-

Take hold of your Imam
Don’t give into Shetan

From- Give thanks to Allah

What’s sad is that it’s actually quite catchy.

I hope the mullah’s dance to Smooth Criminal to celebrate.

i say you dont know

I can’t stand how people can be so incredibly sensitive. Its scary. I mean, humanity doesn’t hate you, we aren’t here to see you fail, and no, not everything is about you.

Look outside your personal circumference, dare to understand there is more to this than what you think, and for fucks sake stop whining.

Grow up.

dancing in the moonlight.

Ok, I should so be taking some time off from blogging, I have so much to do, and hardly anytime to do it in. The schedule-

Friday – General (joke.)

Saturday- Sat (mind fuck for 4 hours)

Sunday- Nothing :D

Monday- History ( have not begun yet)

Tuesday- Sociology

Wednesday- Econ and Literature ( I hate Austen.)

Ok, breathe. Breathe.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IM SO FUCKED.

jesus

I never knew you,
You never knew me,
Say hello goodbye.

With every press on to the ugly grey keyboard, a small spasm of pain leaves me.

Because typing gives me grief?

No.

Because im pouring out my soul and all the angst is causing my heart to do cart wheels?

No.

Because im venting, my anger flows out with every word typed?

No.

Because I have a paper cut dammit. Because I tried to act smart yesterday with the Philadelphia cheese box and cut myself and injured my index finger. So, typing and writing and blah are all highly painful exercises now. Not to mention my bruised ego, yes everyone make fun of me but paper cuts are a bitch ok.

At this current moment in space and time, I am ordinary. My life consists of house and sleep, of books and notes and highlighters and pens. Of equations and time constraints and explanations. Of tangled hair and glasses, of pajamas and tea. Of mundane and monotonous.

Bleh.

Arey Champa.

O  Jesus. O lordy lordy lord.

Life is once again hard, exams in 10 days, SAT’s sooner, college stuff looming over my head.

Oh yes and my brain is doing weird spasm things which paralyze me for 15 seconds at a stretch. Very scary. The parents think im dying. I am too tired to disagree.

1-44 in the morning, and the nerd days have just begun.

What in the name of Hitler’s matching bra and panty set is the point of all this?

Arey Champa.

O Jesus. O lordy lordy lord.

Life is once again hard, exams in 10 days, SAT’s sooner, college stuff looming over my head.

Oh yes and my brain is doing weird spasm things which paralyze me for 15 seconds at a stretch. Very scary. The parents think im dying. I am too tired to disagree.

1-44 in the morning, and the nerd days have just begun.

What in the name of Hitler’s matching bra and panty set is the point of all this?

we all need a pantomine to remind us what is real

James Blunt deserves to die, even when im happy he manages to get me all introspective and blah. It’s odd, he says what you think, the ups and downs of his voice speak your story, he utters those things you’ll never say, your deepest darkest fears are reflected in his words.

This line, from a song named ‘out of my mind’ is one of his few upbeat numbers. This line made me playback the song on repeat. I wonder what he means by it.

Music is like literature, the words that make melody might be static, but the interpretations are infinite. You could think Macbeth was about hijrahs and heera mandi, and no matter how twisted that might be, it’s ok.

Why?

Because that’s the way you think, and really, the way you think is all the matters.

It would be nice if such free thought was so openly accepted in every sphere of life, not just in choruses and sonnets.


And I see no bravery in your eyes anymore,


Just sadness.

(see he did it again)

this is a bitter one.

So, on my way back from tuitions I was craving a drink, and seeing that I was quite broke I stopped at the local ‘super store’ which is ironically quite small and made my towards the nestle juice cold storage thingy (this has a more precise name, im just having a stupid day) and there I find two robust women blocking my way, sitting as if they own the damn store (maybe they did.). As I chose between grape and apple the two women came up to me, asking me inane questions. Convo with female one went like this-

‘So ma’am what energy drink do you prefer’

‘Red bull’

‘Why?’

‘It gives me wings’

Smart woman chose to give up then, seeing that I wasn’t purchasing something known as ‘Bomba’. Now woman number two, who represented nestle yoghurt is after my ass to get weighed in the middle of the store, so that based on my weight she could be like SEE SEE you don’t have my yoghurt then you could be 90 pounds or whatever. She brings out a weighing scale, asks me to take of my shoes and hop on.

That’s when I chose to say – ‘WHAT THE FUCK?’

I mean, Jesus. Firstly, I am A-ok with my weight, and secondly, I already use the damn nestle yoghurt. And thirdly WHICH MARKETING IDIOT CAME UP WITH THIS STRATEGY? I mean, if you were ok with being weighed that would mean you weighed close to nothing and therefore didn’t need the damn yoghurt and  if you were bigger you would have serious issues with being weighed in the middle of the damn store with the  naswar chewing men giving you ‘seductive’ looks.

What happened to straight forward banners and free promotional stuff? When did obese women selling low fat goods become the new money making venture?



Im never going back to that store again, even if they do have the freshest cancer sticks in town. I might end up causing unnecessary blood shed.

in search of fellow fools.

I have many many many reasons to be pissed, or ‘under the weather’ as R says. Its been a tough week, and work just keeps on piling up and no matter how hard I try, it seems like ill never be good enough.

Khair, the current reason to be pissed doesn’t include family sagas, mounting college aps, distant relative weddings or school load.

Im pissed coz no one blogs anymore.

Not that im one to talk, my bitter James Blunt one hardly counts for anything.

But hey, im seventeen, im allowed irrationality.

Blog you blogging bastards blog. (wow I found so angry, im quite proud of myself.)

in search of fellow fools.

I have many many many reasons to be pissed, or ‘under the weather’ as R says. Its been a tough week, and work just keeps on piling up and no matter how hard I try, it seems like ill never be good enough.

Khair, the current reason to be pissed doesn’t include family sagas, mounting college aps, distant relative weddings or school load.

Im pissed coz no one blogs anymore.

Not that im one to talk, my bitter James Blunt one hardly counts for anything.

But hey, im seventeen, im allowed irrationality.

Blog you blogging bastards blog. (wow I found so angry, im quite proud of myself.)

Blunt- depressing bastard.

Im so hollow baby,

Im so hollow.

Im so, im so, im so

Hollow.

look.

Between the white cotton sheets and the dupatta adorned with silver sequins that catches light every so softly- like wilted flowers after it rains for the very first time. Guide your eyes through the last verse with the high beat, right after the chorus. There, veiled by the first two words, hidden by the smudged black ink, so tactfully behind letters and punctuation.

Can’t see anything?

But its there, behind the rose mist of the early morning, behind the cloaked women, miles below the ocean, stuffed in between beds of clutter and feathers. Underneath the dotted skyline, and the glaring tube lights, right next to the flashy billboards and the bangles of motia flowers. Smell that? Smell the sweet scent waft right below you?

No?

Smear the mud away from your grimy window, focus your eyes, be led by intuition. Float, fly, dance. Please dance. Skip, let your clothes flutter, in a flurry of the citrus yellow and midnight charcoals of the dewy morning.

That’s where you lost me.

circles

It takes so little, to cause so very much that it’s almost scary. Here I sit, amongst books and pictures and the past, and all I can think about is the salt drop running down my right cheek. Glass beads catch hues of blue and pink, evidence of small tussles of rainbows in my eyes. There are crystallized thoughts, and efforts to blink and keep it all in, but it takes a quiver of your voice, a flash of your eyes and a nod of your head to open the flood gates. I knew I was weak, but I didn’t know just how much.

I do now.

I know that no matter how unbreakable I try to be you’ll see tears about half an hour after you start telling me how completely disappointing I am. Give me 15 minutes, and ill manage to choke them up, watch my face, and glare right back. I need that time, to be completely vulnerable, completely defenceless and completely small.

It’s funny; it’s been a great day. I felt like I had gotten so much done, I felt older, wiser, I actually liked me. I was laughing, I was getting through, and hell yes I had proved myself to anyone who had ever doubted me.

(‘You know how ive always told you how much everyone loves you and you used to smile that shocked smile of yours? In my head I was thinking- you don’t deserve it. That would take the smirk right out of your face’ that one hurt. It really truly hurt.)

and all that jazz

When you need to pee, you get off your fat ass and walk towards the pot.

When you need to sleep, you pop two Panadol CF’s.

When you need to forget, you read.

When you’re hungry, you order subway.

When you’re bored, you put on your huge (so big they make you look like that chick from star wars, princess layla?) headphones and belt out Pink Floyd or Pearl Jam with flagrant disregard for everyone else’s well being.

When you’re pms-y you snap at everyone, everyone. (sorry dadi)

When you’re tired, and flustered, and just mentally exhausted and frankly-hopeless…

What in fucks name do you do?

(Sat 2 tomorrow. Pray, please please please please please pray)

bloody hell

I woke up this morning to find something odd lingering about one millimetre away from my upper lip.

An over night moustache?

No.

Remnants from my nightly dose of coke?

No.

A huge mosquito bite.

Yes Ladies and Laydas, I have been kissed by a mosquito. And from the size of the damn thing, it was one of those 10 minute Indian movie-ish kisses, with background music and dancing extras in flamboyant garish getups.

Jesus.

Must go, an orgy of centipedes or any other member of the insect family awaits.

slipping

People are made out of glass, translucent, ethereal and lucid. We go about our daily routine, hiding, perpetually hiding. So scared, to be seen, to be noticed, to be realized. We crave attention, but of the wrong kind, perpetuated through beauty or humour- never through intellect. We laugh, we muse, we assume, we play our little designated roles till our mind fogs up with little nothingness. We lack truth, we choose not to embrace the facts, our real moral fibre, our real faces.

Why?

Because we’re inherently ugly.

and breakable.

-

People talk people scream, sooner or later it all becomes interchangeable. It’s a hazy sort of existence, where rules and boundaries are stretched and distorted like old dirty rubber bands that are tightly bound around loaves of bread. You live, you exist, but after a while you stop caring- numb and unfeeling, you soon learn to block out the strained voices, the tear soaked cheeks. They say the media makes you desensitized to blood and carnage, but it’s really just the entire process of living. Images and pain that would once cause you to breakdown at the age of eight rouse a slight flutter at the age of seventeen and are quickly forgotten before you really start to feel. Behind closed doors there are muffled voices, people in grief, people sobbing salty nothingness into toilet roll and pillows. But reality comes a knocking, and its no longer ok to just be depressed and self pitying anymore. There’s simply not enough time for all that fluff. You flush the tissue, gasp at how ugly you look in the mirror, wash your face and join the living once again- slowly stifling all evidence of feeling in you.

Its amazing what great actors we all are.

...indeed

A true friend will spend his last 3 minutes of credit on you, even if its just to reply to a message like – ‘what’s that song with the heavy guitar and the drunk guy?’ with a ‘ a song not worth listening to’ type comment.

They wont listen to you when your going through an emotional breakdown, but will grudgingly pick up their phone at 4 in the morning when your having a caffeine induced laughing fit.

A friend wont buy you dinner, but they’ll pay when you fall short.

He’ll drop hot and spicy at your house when your having a garlic mayo roll craving but will make fun of how fat you are for a good week.

A true friend can get away with horrible nicknames.

They’ll always remember to remind you about someone’s birthday the next day because they’ll know you’ll forget otherwise.

They’ll be your human alarm clock when you fall asleep during Ahsnuddins marathon literature classes.

A friend will tell you when your being stupid or irrational, and will tell you to shut the hell up when your being downright irritating.

They’ll tell you its ok to bunk tuitions if you need to nap at home, but will scream at you nonetheless for messing up a test in the same subject.
They’ll tell you your looking ugly when you truly are, but will be the first to compliment a good hair day.

A friend will stay back to watch your match, but will laugh the loudest when you trip and fall flat on your face.

They’ll laugh at your lame joke when no one else will.

They’ll stand up for you when no one else will.

They’ll sing along to your favourite song even if they don’t know the words.

They’ll watch you fall, tell you they told you so, and then give you their hand to pick you back up.

Happy Birthday W, its been a good 17 years together (

nobody said it was easy

nobody said it would be this hard


Ive become les couch potato. Its Tuesday, and ive not attended school for five days, not because im sick, but because I don’t want to, plus my parents have absolutely no clue as to my whereabouts. One would think I would sit home and study, but no, I don’t do that either. Sure, an hour or two of inane Sat literature (which is hard, so very very very hard) but nothing substantial. I don’t pick up my phone anymore, don’t step out of the house, my hair lies in a tangled bunch, and im wearing my glasses instead of my 24/7 addiction to contacts. I move from one set of pajamas to another. Days are spent mindlessly staring at my college admission essay, which is well horrible. The question, on first glance, seems blissfully easy, but after going through the damn thing thoroughly, its not as straightforward as it seems.

‘Who are you?’

1st reaction- I don’t know. I mean, who really does? And what is the point of living if you DO know? Why bother, at the age of 17, to live through the other 60 odd years and go about your business when you know that in essence your all that you will ever be? I cant accept that im going to continue being the stubborn and eccentric little lost girl that I am for the rest of my life. It just wont happen, at least I hope it wont.

2nd reaction- (more serious, as deadline is nearly approaching) I appeal to friends and family. I ask people what they think of me, and all I get is ‘perpetually laughing, moody, random, pure entertainment and sometimes overly philosophical.’ One even went as far as calling me a ‘rebel’ probably the most generic term ever used. Jesus Christ. Not to mention, that I cant be laughing perpetually and still be moody. I then make a list of what components make up the madness that is me. Stupid things, like I was a vegetarian for three years, or how I have a tattoo, or how I practically worship Marx, or how I feel Dali could have changed the world just through his collective works.

But nothing fits, nothing comes together, there are no flash bulb moments, no surges of inspiration.

And to think, I want to be a writer for the rest of my life.

3rd Reaction- Fuck this im going for a marathon shower.

Writers block S-U-C-K-S.

weird moment of the week-

And there we all stood in the stadium, hangs holding onto the railing, screaming our schools name above everyone else. It was a moment of pride, of glory, of shrieks and chants, of true happiness. After all that’s happened, it was good to find an excuse to smile after so very long. The earthquake effort must have been boosted, there were so many people there, loads of money must have been raised. Our words soared over the lush green, raised through the voices of so many, all towards one collective goal. Amidst the hysteria, the human wave and the random bits of bhangra comes someone who I don’t really know, but I had seen around enough to know him pretty damn well.

He walks up to me, compliments my ‘orkut testimonial writing skills’. Says they are the funniest pieces of prose he has ever written, especially the one liners. He actually confessed to going onto my profile, seeing who has written me a testimonial and then going on to their profile and reading the reciprocal one that I wrote for them.

What a raging lunatic.

Made my day though.

its one of those again

(im sorry, I promised myself I would never blog about this stuff again. I don’t know what im doing .)


Maybe, somethings just happen at their own speed, and some people, some thoughts need to leave when they are ready to leave. Or maybe, when im ready to let them go.

We weren’t worthy of a cowboy with his two bit guitar and tattered jeans who would croon out love songs and sing of two hearts and compare anything genuine to symbols so pathetically trashy. We weren’t worth truck loads of money spent recklessly on gifts and chocolate and roses and other synthetic pieces of nothingness that crowd the shelves of love struck cupid mongers. We didn’t deserve to celebrate anything on the fourteenth of any month in any year, in any measure of imaginable time or space or effort. We were less than long yawns at dawn when late night conversations ended not with goodbyes but with the abrupt click of an exhausted phone that had run out of battery. We earned no prizes or medals or moments of recognition. We received no praise, no help, we had no guardian angels. We didn’t have stolen verses, no settings dotted with winking stars and no blighted juevenille promises of a forever that lasted for no one.

There was no background music when we were together.

in transit

Someone’s cried over the city. Its dotted with forgotten yesterdays and worsening tomorrows. No one is presumptuous enough to reckon that life will ever be the same, or that any sort of sanity will return anytime soon. Hours of packing and volunteering, giving blood, chasing after people for donations, it all seems so futile in the larger context of things. Im exhausted, the flickering tv has been abandoned, I don’t want to know the death toll, I don’t want to hear another helpless story.

Why?

Because its profoundly troubling that I cant do anything about it. Its an odd sort of humbling experience, you cant blame anyone, you cant accuse anyone. Things happen, and all of a sudden, your not as invincible as you thought you were. There will always be things bigger than you. I guess you just have to search for meaning, in a nation that is groping for anything that resembles hope.

There’s is no ray of light, no end of the tunnel, no silver lining.

When did it all get so grey?

I need hope, I need someone to tell me that it will be ok, that everything happens for a reason. I need to be fed lies, anything that will make it all seem worthwhile again.

and it was all..

It was way too early, I refused to accept the fact that it was already six in the morning. It truly felt that I had crashed into bed just a few minutes ago. I heard the bell of the driver, and my deepest fears were confirmed, life was waiting while I tried to stretch every last second of indolence that I had left. I got out of the wrong side of the bed and tripped over my shoes on the way to the bathroom, only to stumble in, my eyes blinded by the streaks of yellow light shining through. I blinked a couple of times, ignored the light completely and put down my blinds, blocking out the yellow with a thick black.

When I walked into school, your yellow school bag banged into me. I turned around to see who the hell it was and grinned and slowed down so you could catch up. The yellow was burning a hole in my eye. I looked away and taught myself to stare blindly at the terracotta cobbled pavement. I hid your yellow behind a concrete road.

I got back with a heavy migraine, the sun had really taken its toll on us. I opened up the ointment I had picked up on the way back and quickly emptied some out onto the palm of my hand. The ashen yellow of the bottle cap stirred something in me and I shivered, my jerk causing some ointment into my eye. My red eyes mixed with salt water as I lay down in a dark room only disturbed by the red tint of the tv on standby. I let myself sink into nothingness, while the tingling sensation of the ointment led me into fitful slumber.

I promised myself to never think of you again. Ive stopped watching tv, with the sheer fear that in some moment of unguarded channel surfing I would come across your face again, blushed by the redness of the ground you’ve been sleeping on for the past couple of days. Clothes dotted with blood of an entire family trapped beneath rubbish and concrete and other frozen paraphernalia. Wisps of golden brown hair circled your almond eyes as you searched for compassion in the reporters eyes, telling him how you didn’t have a home anymore, no one to call your own anymore. In haste, you pushed your hair behind a tattered yellow dupatta, while wiping a rogue tear of your left cheek. You paused, looked at that camera, and in that yellow moment, you broke my heart.

A thankyou to everyone whos doing so much to help those who are in desperate need.. Ive never felt more pride in being a Pakistani.

...a killer from a saviour

Fuck quitting, im too emotionally attached to this black background and grey text.

(Sorry for the fleeting goodbye, and the melodramatic departure.)


I feel about half a foot higher than my body, watching my life from a comfortable plush red velvet seat while some idiot makes rash decisions and isolates all who mean the world to her, and who once were all that mattered. Translucent stars half-shine upon the bittersweet smiles and hidden agendas, its so difficult to figure out what people really mean anymore. You reach a point in which you almost plead for an honest answer, but then treat it with disdain when its acutely accurate and uncomfortably insightful. Truth is often discarded for a well crafted disguise that suits the external environment that one converses in, insulating you from heat and all that might hurt, prick or seek to decieve. Songs play on repeat, evidence that change doesn’t have to exist in every aspect of life. Sometimes, its easier to stay in a rut, at least its familiar, awkwardly comfortable, and comprehensible. Evolution is fine with fossils and apes, but what happens when you
sprint through a million years of self development to land at an unfamiliar dusty deserted place in your mind?

What if you woke up one morning and realized that you hated that person you have become?

What if you can clearly pinpoint what’s wrong with you but are clueless as to how to go about fixing any of it?

Im done.

Goodbye.

Oh, and to answer the question that lurks around at the top of my page-

No, absolutely nothing is sacred anymore- not my santiy, neither my self respect.

Things i noticed today-

‘Herbal’ toothpaste is just wrong. Toothpaste should always be mint. What the hell is this lemon and herb nonsense? For gods sakes who wants their teeth to smell of LEMON?

Afternoon naps, are gods gift to the sleep deprived and lazy.

Waking up from afternoon naps, with your hair in one big tangle, clothes crumpled, and eyeliner smudged, is probably the worst documented feeling ever. (They also don’t count as naps if you’ve been out cold for a good 3 hours.)

Last minute studying, is utterly and completely useless. Nothing makes sense, even if you’ve get the best Eco teacher in school (who happens also to be the hottest one, she’s a woman but eye candy is eye candy after all). Perhaps, if I was bisexual, I would pay more attention.

Bad songs, have a way of finding their way into your brain and setting up camp in there. Case in point- Don’t Cha by Pussycat something. Probably one of the most annoying songs ever written, but there I was in school doing jhatkas and matkas to it in my head. The best remedy, is to download it, listen to it about 10-15 times, and it seems to be satiated and wont harass you for a while.

Guys are easier to get along with than girls. They are simpler, basic human beings. (they often make minimal sense though)

Cat fights are BLOODY fun to watch.

Take out your claws ladies. Ill go get the popcorn.

tagorama

Its funny, everyone seems to be complaining about being tagged. I really don’t see the big deal (and was actually quite blah about being non-tagged for so long- I felt like a blog looser) as most of the times these blogs are merely ways for people to talk about themselves incessantly without coming across as a narcissist or an egoist.

Why?

Well because everyone does it.

No one really tells you to shut the hell up on blogger :D


Ok now back to the questions-

5 years ago-
I was well, all of 12. Weird thing is, I have absolutely no idea what I was doing back then. Through old diary entries it seems I was going through my first ever crush, my first ever fight and my first ever makeup. It was a year of firsts I guess. Plus, it was before the bitterness and disillusionment had set in. I believed in things and people- oh and I think I believed in myself too.

1 year ago-
Ah ok at least I remember this time. I was ‘growing up’ faster than I should have been due to some stuff happening in the family sphere. Life changed dramatically, and I changed in order to adapt to it. Plus I had absolutely no idea what blogger was so life couldn’t have been that great either way :p

5 songs I know all the words to-

Wish you were here- Pink Floyd
Precious Illusions- Alanis Morisette
Warning Sign- Coldplay
Drops of Jupiter- Train
The blowers daughter- Damien Rice
Knocking on heavens door-Any bloody version

Oh and, I also know every Spice Girl and Backstreet Boy song by heart. It was the in thing back in 1999 ok. (I cant believe I just admitted that)


5 snacks-
Ginger Beer (yes I know everyone else thinks its disgusting)
Any form of chaalia (my god all my bad habits are coming out)
Nestle Orange Juice AND the Grape one too
That chocolate thing from Okra- Warm Chocolate Gateau. Hai allah that thing is sexual.
Oh oh and COCOMO. That’s should be number one though I am officially addicted to it.


5 things I would do with a 100 million-
I would run around naked in it.

YAAR I don’t know man ill buy stuff(?)

5 places I would run away to-

Er, im happiest in my room. Or at G’s house, which is well my second house anyway. Other than that, i wouldn’t run away anywhere because I like familiarity and so new random places scare me rather than thrill me.

5 things I would never wear-

Bras made out of coconuts. They must hurt.

5 tv shows-

The apprentice, that 70’s show, one tree hill, the practice, Law and Order.

5 greatest joys-

Some of my friends, parts of my family (who I often love but don’t like), the FUTURE dog that im going to get.

And yes and my music. Very very very very very important.

Damn I don’t have 5 joys even.

My blog can be joyful sometimes does that count?

5 favourite toys-

I was a big fan of polly pockets once. Barbie scared me.

5 people im tagging-

ermm… Blinside the Goldie and Sammish!

stuck in the moment

Eyes blurry, head heavy, mind floating somewhere between hopelessness and despair.

Open up Sat book, might as well try to study in order to take my mind off things.

Essay topic (yes they have essays now) - What motivates people to change?

Answer-

The obvious answer to your incredibly anal question, would be of unhappiness with ones current situation. I mean, common sense would lead you to believe that if you don’t like who you are you twist and turn yourself around to become someone who is relatively better, relatively closer to an ideal image you hold in your eyes. At some point, you need to stop wanting to become a model citizen and actually become that person. Unless though, you’re a raging masochist and feel that your spotted personality gives way to all that is melancholic in your life and therefore all that is precious. Or, you could also be one of those people who people have pigeon holed to fit a certain image that those around you hold of you at their own convenience and your just so used to fitting their designated role that your really quite unsure of who you are without their direction. And if, you do somehow manage to get out of their grasp, you’re left flailing about like a goat on bakra eid who just met its bloody demise at the hand of the ruthless guy with the white shalwar kameez sprinkled with the blood of many who have fallen before you.

See the problem is Mr. Sat, that in the words of dear old Alanis, I know who im not but I don’t know who I am. I was a firm believer that canceling out the wrong choices is just as good as ticking the right one, the process of elimination was a good friend of mine. But seeing that ive cancelled out all of my choices, im left with nothing.

Clarity is a bitch, but when it doesn’t come with a solution it just turns your head and leaves you empty handed and red eyed.

That’s when it becomes an undeniable bitch.

Tear stained pillows and empty shot glasses.


Im never drinking again.

Time to turn over a new leaf, a new life, a new beginning

Ive reached the end of a very delicate thread of immaturity

Im never drinking again

‘Open up my eager eyes
Coz im Mr Brightside’

Jis ki biwi moteee,

Fat clouds circle above a small room in which a girl sits typing away on her antique computer. She wants to watch TV, but her maid has other plans. Lawaris is coming, and there was no way the person who saved up all her Eidi and birthday money to buy that very TV was going to come in between her and the Big B.

Amitabh looks frighteningly decent in drag. Ugly Lehnga though. Plus very hairy stomach.

Normally, this scenario would bother me, mainly because today was my designated ‘lets-actually-do-something' day, and well I can’t really be productive when my maid (lets call her Stalin) is doing her Cleopatra poses on my bed.

But alas, I sit here, quietly, humming oasis to myself, I wouldn’t want the sound of my music to disturb her. I am, do I dare say it, content.

It all started out with a determined mind, but an even more determined friend. I had to sit and do an entire SAT diagnostic today, seeing that I had slacked of during the entire week. It was my punishment of sorts, my own internal set of checks and balances making amends for a weekend dedicated solely to nothing. So here I was, innocently punching numbers into my calculator mid sum and-

*tring tring* (my phone actually has a catchy sex and the city ring tone but I cant be bothered to type the entire thing out)

‘Yes?’ – My attempt at trying to seem busy

‘Oi come outside we are waiting’

‘But.. But... Im working’

‘Work later’

‘Ok’

What great self control, I amaze myself really, Im such a bloody strong willed person.

We went for tea and parathas. The steam from the doodh patti fogged up the windows, till the yellowredpink of the outside were just mere nuances of colour. We sang along to the Killers, and Pink Floyd, and Pearl Jam. We drenched a poor aunty by mistake by landing ourselves into a very deep puddle. We laughed when he made that infamous screw up that he’s made fifty million times before and still hasn’t wisened up to. We made memories and constructed infinite reasons for why this city, with its anal KESC (no light for 12 hours yesterday, TWELVE HOURS) sweltering heat, and ridiculously honryy ball scratching men-is home.

Your lips move

but I can’t hear what you’re saying.

I can’t, or rather I choose not to. I have to exert every iota of self control to not retort, reply, or just merely shrug my shoulders- I need to show some force of flagrant disregard for all that your currently barking out. There has to be an end to this insanity, and it just kills me that I can’t aid that process at all. The funny things is, that we both realized that at one point, it reached such ludicrous levels of lunacy that we were actually on the brink of laughing, you were actually that absurd. Politics of any kind are just fodder for an idle mind, but politics born out of completely baseless accusations is what really gets to me.


She talks to him. Oh my god, she came with him. Wait is she leaving with him? My god are they together all the time? Thanks for not telling us about where you guys were. Why did you have to go to his place before, you could have come to mine. So now you guys make plans without telling us? This is what it’s come to hasn’t it? I can’t believe the two of them can act like that, everyone knows, a guy and a girl can never just be friends.

*the mindless drones nod in unison while the spewing bitch smiles*

I just need a shoulder to cry on- im too hunched over to support myself.

I need someone to cry on my behalf- im all out of tears.

I need to be told everything’s going to be ok- I can’t lie to myself anymore.

I need someone to listen- I can’t talk to the walls anymore.

I need to make it all about me for just one moment, one moment I beg of you.

Please.

Then we can return to this semi detached existence, and ill never ever complain again.

I promise.

..to bad rubbish

Time and space fight for room in a world so over ridden with quickened footsteps and bated breath. Plastic hypothetical people guide life altering decisions and dotted white voices croon poetic fallacy into your ears. Eyes hurt, feels like every blink is met with thorns, piercing ever so slowly- every pause met with such resistance. Glass makes things clearer, but you kept on painting over everything I every said. Calligraphy that once held sacred verses now lay molded in some discarded attic boasting of nothing more than better yesterdays and unsure tomorrows. Your words, no matter how poetic, fall on deaf ears- no one is willing to spend their precious morsels of sanity on your gluttony. The twinkle in your eye has been given back to its rightful owners- the stars resent you for exploiting something they lent to you in such good faith. There are no more butterflies, no more awkward moments- your jarring beat has left my symphony forever.

Good riddance..

Freestyle and backstroke revisited

On the way back from driving a friend to the airport and seeing him off, the two of us had a long journey ahead of us, sans music, sans radio. It had been a long day, admist tears, emotional goodbye speeches, tense laughing fits at our ‘spot’ , and last minute embraces-we were all out of emotion. That last cheap ‘tusi jaa rahey ho?’ moment hardly got a grunt out of us.

Sipping our disposable cokes, all out of any form of nicotine, we start doing what we do best- talking shit.

‘So, howcome you didn’t cry when he left?’

‘Well firstly coz all the stupid girls crying were just trying to get some attention, they hardly ever spoke to the guy. Its his moment, not some random girls with runny eyeliner. And secondly, coz he wasn’t my best friend or anything. Ive known him since nursery true, but we never really bonded.’

‘Funny, I always thought you two were closer than that’

‘No no I mean, he was in my pool of friends- but not.. but not.. in the MIDDLE of my pool you know.’

‘Acha now it makes sense. So am I in the middle of your pool?’

‘Honey your wearing a frilly swimsuit and those ugly speedo sticky hair caps.’

‘I want floats too.’

'For survival purposes?'

'Nope for visual impact.'

‘Fine, take floats.’

‘So is he (names horrible fungus of a human being) in the middle of your pool?’

‘Are you fucking crazy? He dipped his feet and figured it was way too bloody cold.’

And im the one that jaded you

Im experiencing, what people like to call writers block. Nothing that I think or say or type is mildly poetic, or even slightly politically incorrect. I wake up everyday and sleep every night with no utterance of anything special, a unique thought, a new point of view. I am emotionally barren it seems, with a slowly decomposing brain, and a mind that seems to have shut off any form of communication. It’s a zombie kind of existence, living in rituals and tried and true practices. Wake, stare, sleep. Its not a form of indolence really, more like a form of giving in. Knowing, that this world will continue spinning, no matter what supposed escaped philosophy my temporarily sparked brain can come up with. Neither is it a matter of an ego, more of a realization that im small, so insignificant is my existence that if something happened to me tomorrow, not much will come of it. The world will continue, people will go on embarking on emotional roller coasters, some will emerge victorious, others will put up a brave front before crumbling when they find a moment to themselves.

Shit happens, life changes, and you just continue trudging through this shady existence of self-discovery.

I think im temporarily incapable of feeling anything.

Or maybe ive just lost the ability permanently.

Of celebrations and cynicism

A storm full of white and green ran into the mundane brown and grey of an institution boasting of centuries of recollections. The dhol waalas decked out in their gaudy yellow and orange sprinted right behind trying to keep up with the passion that drove the youth to run so very fast waving cloth that adorned crescents and stars. Laps of the field followed, the flags fluttering in the air right along with the voices of 300 people, all tied together in ecstasy. Amidst huffing and puffing they all came to a slow halt and grinned partially because they were overawed by the spectacle they had aroused, but mainly because they didn’t really know what to do next. Circles were formed, people were dancing, the dhol waalas were their gods, and they were just faithful followers abiding to their religion of beats.

Euphoria doesn’t strike often, people don’t laugh for such long spells of time, but it was just one of those days in whish their was a flagrant disregard for calm, composure and self control. Their voices were hushed by the booms of the admin, but they never really subsided into nothingness. Every given moment, a stray verse of an old national song was screamed out, followed closely by shrieks and calls. They were all too young to bother with the fact that these songs, these flags, were slowly loosing meaning in a country that was slowly loosing its soul. Disillusionment was far away, nowhere even close to where they drove their cars, their heads out of the windows, the voices of Vital Signs blaring out of their decks. So naïve, so immature- yet so beautiful.

Happy birthday Pakistan.

A moment of silence

Sometimes, you just have to be a bitch.

Im tired you know, that’s all, im just painfully tired. Life is exhausting; it drains every will to live and every iota of drive and energy that ever dared inhabit you. I cant, I just cant go through living like this. Always, just always bending over backwards, listening, perpetually listening. I mean, I know it was written somewhere in the best friend bylaws that you are aloud to moan till the moon paints itself in blue, but there are limits- boundaries.

Cant you never just shut the fuck up?

I know you’ve had a tough couple of weeks, trust me ive tried to make them easier for you, trying to share the burden, make it easier. I would stay up all night talking to you, not let you out of my sight in school, come over whenever I got a moment of peace. I listened while you whined, hugged you when you cried, and then acted like I believed you when you said it was ‘your sinus acting up’. I fought with my parents for you, sat for endless hours doing research for you, telling you everything was ok, things work themselves out, it all falls into place sooner or later.

I was your human redbull.

And after, a 12 hour day, of bull shit with a side serving of hysteria, I come home, after saying bye to you five minutes ago, and then this-

she says:
listen, I need to ask you something..
she says:
am i losing my looks?
I say:
?
she says:
was i better looking in the earlier years
I say:
(please tell me your joking)

A very big part of me thanks god that your pissed, and that your probably not talking to me.


(Im horrible, im sorry.)

I can’t explain it.

I just cant.

That feeling.

Of feeling everything at once, as if the heavens crashed and burned at your feet till your toes sting from the sheer magnanimity of everything that life throws at you. When you sit, drenched after a warm shower and you shut your eyes for a few minutes while steam emanates from every inch of your skin. When old pictures fuse with new ones, and your entire existence seems like a flash of childish photography- so naïve yet so ridden with a raging under cover torrent of sentiment that peeks out shyly from time to time. When you recklessly choose to forget the tears that once seemed to burn little potholes straight through your cheeks because your hands were too limp to flick them away.

Is this happiness?

Or just a lapse of reason?

Phlegm Woman to the rescue

Ok now ladies and laydas.

This blog is a sham. I only write when im sad or angry, or both. (And im really not that bitter in real life.) So im trying something new. Im pissed and delirious. Oh and im also acting my age for once. Heres whats happening in a 17 year olds life. (emphasis on the 17)

Ok.

Here it goes.

Well my life right now sucks circus elephant dick. Why? Because it has been taken over by school and tuitions and work even more tuitions? Not to forget that im very ill and blah and my hair is looking weird and I can see split ends but I have no fucking time to even get a bloody haircut. For example, it’s Saturday today, and ive been to 6 hours of bloody fuck tuitions and that’s it. The rest of the time was spent entertaining my runny nose asshole cousins and not to mention their bloody maids who smell. Really bad.
So its 9-25 in the evening right now, and all my friends are currently sitting at Pizza Express eating away and here I am sipping tasteless soup ala shit. And to top it all off, I did really well in my first practice SAT, but my idiot parents are all like ya well that wont get you into Harvard and im like well yes Mr Bcom graduate stop shitting on my parade ok.

Other problems include that of the broken chair that I am sitting on. Well actually seeing that its broken I must now switch to the horrible stool. Even my own furniture is rejecting me. And also, I feel like I really bust my ass trying to manage school and extracurricular (fancy word for useless college stuff) and tuition and SAT and still everyday im left with a huge list of things to do and I really don’t feel like im accomplishing anything.

Also, my driver is being a major dick. His new thing is to openly fast-forward any song playing just because he doesn’t like it. Like today, I was listening to The Killers, and he just switches the song. And im like dude, hello, my music. And he gives the ‘shut the fuck up I can kill you in two minutes If I wanted, that is after I rape you’ look so then I looked out of the window and pouted for a few minutes.

Im also sick of consoling my friends about how they’re not going to get any colleges and helping them with little relationship maslas. I am no agony aunt. I am just in agony and that is fucking different ok.

Why am I agony? Because I am phlegm woman. Seriously, I am coughing and sneezing out yellow balgham like its my job- or superpower. I am also sitting in my ‘Jesus is my homeboy’ XL sleeping shirt and my religious cousin got all pissy at me. And I just felt like saying listen you fuck stop smoking weed then get back to me ok dear?

However, I must say that I do love certain people in the world, including G who was kind enough to drop Benadril off to my house (even though he stood 10 feet away from me as I am contagious ahhaha) and got me chicken soup from China Town. Also, I like S even though her 8 calls during my practice SAT kind of made me loose my concentration.
I also like E as she called and screamed at me for not coming to dinner, which is nice, as no one likes to be thought of as inconsequential, and it seems like my absence was felt :D.

But alas, these are trivial things, and the real thing is that is pissing me off is the fact that the next three months are integral to how I spend the next 4 years of my life. In other words, all of us are teetering over the hill of bloody destiny and our toes are inching towards the sea of mind fuck (hard work). We cant accept the fact that summer is over, and that A’s results are coming out day after, SAT is in two months, college applications are going out soon, plus end of term grades matter a lot too. This is all way too much for a stupid ill 17 (emphasis on the 17) year old girl to handle.

I feel really numb.

Maybe it’s just the Benadril though?

Lead me not to temptation

I can get there myself.

The last entry was about events, this entry is about the truth. Once again, its just words that fell out of my head- in other words highly odd and often contradictry.

I thought that we had said the final goodbyes, and that I could start to rebuild the walls of protection that you so recklessly knocked over when I began to trust you. But it seems, that it will never go away, we will never really bid each other adieu. Maybe, because I was at my happiest when i was with you, and in a world in which happiness comes in the form of a memory rather than the present, you tend to come back time and time again. But its too late, mistakes were made, some things are just irreversible. Dont ask about me, or try to call, because a part of me might just pick up. And when pigeons flutter out of little brass cages don’t tell me that things couldn’t have gone our way. Just because elements present themselves in other boxes and packages, in other faces of the same little beggar who asked for the same dirty note the first day you drove by him doesnt mean that they mean any different. People swing around poles of dreams one hand clung firm in order to maintain their balance and the other groping into nothingness to find something we can escape to, something we can deviate to and feel the extreme joy of rebellion. We aren’t walking over cotton wool clouds, people slip through and often fall order into a sea of emerald stones that you discarded when the clasp broke. So clumsy of you to let us fall so fast.


Please, just please lift your hand so that the torch doesn’t go out and we don’t turn to dust so terribly quickly. Your palm will burn, and for once, my breath wont be there to calm it down. Please let us visit those old run down castles with crumbling towers that once held mystery and promise but are now just left to decay once the pleasure has been injected out of them. Let calls of prayer be muted by the song you sang to me, the same one that gets stuck in your throat, while it watches all the lies float by. Waves of silence can no longer just lay still in the air like words the hung in the hushed drapery of antique thoughts and misguided fantasy. Trample all over the eyelashes that were once blown on to preserve us, or to take your fingerprints away from the copper bars the bind keys that locked away our destiny.

A hop skip and a jump later

The city seems to be sleeping in a dusty brown glow of better yesterdays and the profound knowledge that things will never be the same. The sticky atmosphere clings to you, and the heat tends to almost numb your senses, prompting lethargy and idleness. Tangled webs of communication are switched on and off ever so faintly, and with each ongoing fingerprint, the intensity of light generated decreases. Seems like someone cried all over this city, leaving it raw and completely exposed.

Sometimes going away makes you realize just what you leave behind. I can hear my maid hum her favorite Star plus theme song as she makes me tea, while my dad just screamed at me for forgetting to put my miles into my frequent flyer card. School starts Monday, while SAT tuition starts tomorrow. My mom isn’t home, but will soon come and will plop herself down in a relatively clean part of my room (ah-clutter) and complain about work, the domestic staff, and life in general. My cables out, and when I came back, some idiot had unplugged all my computer wires. My brother is listening to his rap music way too loud, and my AC is letting out an old mouldy smell. My bathroom still has that faulty shower which just isn’t strong enough, and once again, I stepped into the shower without realizing that there was no towel there to dry me up. My friends scream when they walk in, I scream right back- amidst tight hugs and the expectant 'I missed you’s' we soon return to our reclined positions on my bed- chewing noisily on chocolate chip cookies and talking about school and what all ive missed out on- in other words- the usual.



KESC is at its unpredictable best, with my torch by my bedside, and my book gingerly held by my now exhausted fingers, I look up to see that same old fan, that S had so brilliantly colored in so that it almost hypnotizes you when its spinning. The smell of my coconut incense drapes over the pointless and unnecessary, as I once again, dare to dream.


Sure, ive been away for seven weeks, ive seen some of the best cities in the world, experienced life to its fullest. But now, in retrospect, it all seems so futile, so imaginary. Its like we existed in this little bubble of happiness for that time- resisting all the pulls of reality we fought to maintain our happy place of hotel rooms, alcohol, clubs, music and laughter. I have about 200 pictures and 5 million memories to bear witness to the fact that this summer, was not merely amazing- it was freakishly close to perfect. It felt so good that I almost felt guilty of feeling such sheer and untroubled joy- so beautifully distant from everyone and everything that could ever dare damage me. I felt I didn’t deserve it, or perhaps was letting myself get too optimistic. Life was never this good. Things don’t just work out. Right?


What ive realized is, that it wasn’t the feeling of inadequacy that made me question those days- it was the knowledge that they were numbered- each day adding to a countdown of how much fun I had been allotted. This couldn’t last- waking up in a plush Park Avenue apartment that a family member left me alone in for weeks. (He was either really really nice or just plain stupid- I suggest the latter.) Walking through central park to catch up with the rest of them. . We would sit at the back of the bus and sing Hide and Seek in our one of a kind Urdu Translation Remix. I still remember our waltz in the middle of Virgin while we waited for Liz to come out of the loo. We strided back and forth through the Jazz and Hip Hop section, indifferent to all the people staring and those that were horrible enough to laugh when we messed up. Dragging our asses back at 6 in the morning after watching Oakenfold live, and then feasting into cheap deli sushi, lying on one bed all 11 of us with our eyes shut while B’s original trance played on in the background. And then, drifting off alone, finally getting to see Dahli’s work up close and having the liberty to just stand and absorb till your eyes feel that they cant stand to soak up so much beauty in one go. Burying myself in a book store or strolling down Herald Square with my Starbucks original concoctions in hand (I threw in a shot of this and that every time- most of the time it was a disaster.) Me complaining that you cant eat Italian in China Town till I finally got my way, and then subsequently getting caught in the miserable rain till we gave up and went dancing up the streets full Indian movie style. (We scared the oriental folk). Singing old Elvis songs while searching for Burger King and the countless subway journeys, in which we managed to get all the way to the Bronx once instead of Upper East Side Manhattan.


My phone rings- ah mobilink is still as useless as it used to be. A broken and electronic version of G says hello and asks me how my trip was.

I smile and look around. My eyes flash over my cold tea and Marie biscuits, my torch (which was still going strong), my can of mortein (in case of the rare cockroach), and my mess of a bathroom with heaps of old shampoo bottles long discarded but never actually thrown out. I look down at my fingers, one so carefully bandaged by S when it randomly started bleeding and refused to stop. Her bright Detol idea stung like a bitch. My other finger was covered in ink from the long thankyou note I wrote to Mom and Dad. I just felt that a bottle of cologne couldn’t really convey the gratitude and the appreciation.


‘The trip? Trip was good. This is better.’

The disco has left the building

I have 11 precious minutes before i leave for the airport.

I have a million things to do , but right now, i just want to say goodbye.

Will still be in touch, just not from my own computer, but some random internet cafe that cannot boast of having a perfect seat, with a table full of clutter and small insignificant things that make me write what i write.

Take care

I almost fell into that hole in your life

This post makes absolutely no sense; it’s just a jumble of nothing.
You have been officially warned.

-


It still hovers in the air, eventhough you try not to breath it in. Like that one solitary fly that you just cant seem to sqwat, that swiff of perfume that mingles with the dust and mouldy stench in a sweaty gym. Some people, some thoughts, some ideas- they never seem to leave you.

Right before you go to bed, those couple of minutes before your body drifts of into oblivion, your mind tends to go through a quick recollection of all that happened that day. You rethink some of the things you said and regret them eventually. You try to translate and interpret things that people said to you, what they meant, what they really implied. And then, when your mind has pretty much reached a state of indolence and inactivity, random thoughts of you pop up.

I don’t want to go into some really pointless recollection, mentioning gestures and footprints that only mean something to me. From the beats of that particular song, the way I thought that those beats had been composed for us- just us. How in your car, we used to just go and drive into the most barren parts of town, which were only lit by those headlights that flickered on and off. When we went fast, they seemed to be a million eyes winking at us, smiling at us because they saw the joy that resonated from us.


We played our battles on blinded territories, too fearful to scream, too willing to wound. And now, in retrospect, in a chest full of memories, the toys mingle with the weaponry. Each entity has lost its purpose, outdate and obsolete, our paths don’t even cross anymore.

This is just a mere catalogue of affection.


I once thought so much of you, remember my entire theory on how god had a plan for both of us? That this rocky little path we’ve been tripping onhad eventually made who we had become all the more fun, and all the more worth it. That behind the ashen faces that had been scarred black by the rogue incense, you were my crystal clear piece of glass. There existed charm and simplicity, an odd sort of tranquillity. Accepted for who you were, fiercely independent, you were perfection tainted by humility. Green and naïve, you were so painfully unaware your own brilliance. Remember when I told you that you moved in rhythms, one foot tapping before the next. I meant, that there was an aura around you, when you walked, you seemed like you were dancing to a beat of pure ecstasy. You remain in fragments, in the minds of those who were moved by you, and those who were too rigid to melt. Your conscience always jogged alongside you trying to keep par with a mind flipping through space and liberty, transcending time and epoch. Your beauty, ageless, your charisma, effortless.

I think I need to find out why my wings seem to have wholes punctured in them.

The ability to feel, every atom in my fingers, with the silent hum of doctrined symbols, is what I aspire to achieve. I shut my soul and melt the numbers. A vain effort in running away from the impending doom of a night surrendered. It was long ago somewhere, in between the heavy intoxication of letters, which ceased to have coherent meaning long ago and whiles away. I long sometimes, for a world that once saw me, and a life that would knot my mind into celestial stars that dot the blue print of the lines on my hand, reflected in the outlines on my face. They would trace a pattern of the dead and those who never dared to live outside the chrysalides of comfort that niceties once prevailed over.


The dragonflies and the white cloth seem so similar in the glittery red glow of days gone by. I let myself go and allow myself to muse, that for one second, I see beyond us, and the probability that the numbers that once celebrated the happiness of pinpricks and slogans could even be remotely deceptive of a connection worthy of gods and myths and smiles and the effort that it takes to live through what we might have persisted. In a world that made me succumb to secrecy and falsehood, I gave in to the silver metallic that reflected the longitude of the nakedness in my mind

I laugh myself to sleep

Its my

Lullaby.

-

(I told you do it made no sense)

its 6 49 in the morning.

I have to type real slow because otherwise pissy maid will realize im awake and come and knock at my door, and then i will have to interact with pissy maid and thats no fun now is it? All she talks about is Star Plus anyway.

Oo the bell just rang wonder who it is. The paper. Do i dare go and steal it. Nope maid is making tea.

My lenses are so blurred because ive been up for so long, so i cant see all that much. Everythings hazy, kinda cool in its own weird way.

I cant even listen to my music. (Please refer to StarPlus obsessed maid.)

DAMMIT
she knocked
bloody fuck.


If the sheer energy that she puts into harassing me could be bottled up in some way one could really find an alternative source for making electricity.

Must go, the door wont open itself.

So much for alone time.

A momentary suspension of disbelief.

And so it is, just, like you said it would be.

After an ok exam, with a sleep deprived body, but an artificially alert mind, we all landed up at G's (its what we do, he was sleeping, we pounced on him- the cycle continues). I depart on the best car ride of my life, with the two of them in the front, all of us scared by the thought of being caught by the cops. No license + banned substances + general stirke + angry mullahs = a bloody good yet scary time.From the random bouts of synchronized dancing, to the entire 'choontia' episode, to the whole conspiracy we came up with, Ive never laughed so hard, neither had I ever felt to comfortable as I did with the two of you.

Theres someone, who understands you more than I do.

Sometimes, when horrible things happen, and you realize, that you had been temporarily plungd into plundering darkness, you find that your hands are rendered useless after your eyes have been blinded by stupidity. That those who meant the world to you, are a lot more imperfect than you thought they were, that they did things in secrecy, is a terifying thought to embrace. And they hid, and hid, till one day a little monster named alcohol caused them to blurt things out that you wished you didn’t know, but also wish you had bothered noticing due to its sheer blatancy. It takes so little to make you feel so painfully stupid.

We all sat around, singing at the top of our voices, smiling for no rhyme or reason. She came and plopped herself on my legs, and we laughed about that time and that other time. He picked up his guitar, I hadnt hear him sing in so long. We all knew his song, we were the only ones who had heard it. I had never felt more complete in my life, surrounded by everyone, all of us packed into this one room, overlapping each other. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke, everything looked so perfect when it was hidden behind a sly smokescreen.

You are nothing to me, your words seem like tortured heiroglyphics spoken by a red eyed nobody stuck in some picture taken long ago which encompased three individuals, locked in a frame, broken by time and consequence. Drifting, floating, drowning into a pool of nothingness. I cant hear you, neither do i care about whatever the hell leaves your mouth. Im going to stop talking in cliched sentences, saying things i dont mean, repeating them when you dont listen. Neither am i going to go out of my way to be there for you, or hold you when your falling, this time, im going to let you collapse. Maybe the cold hard concrete will wake you up.

I reach home, crash on the bed after realizing ive been up for more than 24 hours, only to be woken up by S and Liz, and literally dragged out of bed. (No, seriously, one of them had my arms, the other my legs.) We landed up at H's and my mood picked up as soon as Imogen Heap's Hide and Seek was playing in his room. Seeing that we are the only two people whove heard this bloody song, we sang and sang till everyone else wanted to kill us. After arguing endlessly about which lyrics were right and which lyrics we randomly made up, we decided to shelve the entire endeavour and restorted to singing some old boy band ballad. We knew every word, every beat, every pause.

What kills me, is that you don’t even realize what the fuck you’ve done. You don’t even know what an impact your actions have made on people who always believed in you, always wanted the best for you, who thought that you were on the same wave length as they were, and who loved you for no apparent reason. Lines of what is considered right and wrong, the so called code, is all blurry now, one big black hole into which I slowly throw all the ashes of words once spoken, thoughts that once held significance, I love yous that once held meaning. There was a time where I thought that my life without you would not be a perfect circle, that you were all I needed. Fuck you. Fuck you.

And then, the absurd conversations with J in the middle of the night. The sorting out of our love lives hahaha. Thankgod both of them didn’t pick up. Its good that people sleep early in this town, otherwise both of us would have woken up to a bad hangover and two people who we had asked out the night before. Yuck.

Fuck you for once making me feel as special as you did. Fuck you for saying what you used to that made me adore you even more. Fuck you for lying to me for all these months. Fuck you for contradicting yourself. Fuck you for being so good at manipulating me. Fuck you for not being who I thought you were. Fuck you.

Tonight, was just another night. The five of us, trance music, cheap food, lame jokes. We got chased by dogs, he accidently hit my eyebrow (still numb from the peircing), danced along to that odd bhangra song, hid from his parents. I got screamed at for smoking too much, F forget the words of the song. G made his USUAL fuckups and got us lost. We jumped from one car to another. We ran out of money, I ran out of cigarrettes, you dropped me home and waited till I was inside.

I don’t know what to say to you the next time I see you, or the next time you call, because obviously what you did is to absolutely no significance in your mind. It WAS NOT ok. You cant rationalize this in anyway. You just cant. You were wrong.I cant look at you anymore.

Cheating on someone with their bestfriend. Smooth, so bloody fucking smooth.

Bastard.

Bitch.

sigh

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And
I
Will

Try
to
Fix


You.

What a song, What a feeling. What a car ride. What a day.

It was one of those days, in which everything seemed to have its own background music.

When things were just- fine. Not good, not bad. Just fine.

But is it fast enough so we can fly away?

"Finally see what it means to be living."

Fast Car
(The vertical horizon version, dedicated to Luci.)

So, what does 'living' even mean? And no, not the biological bit, the pumping of the heart, the flexing of the muscles, the ability to raise one eyebrow, touch your nose with your tongue, no, not that.

I mean, the feeling of existing, of just being so alive, that you almost cant take it. Your bursting, saturated with joy, to just be. To experience life to its fullest, no regrets, nothing holding you back. You jump just because you want to, you move just because the music makes you. You laugh because their words tickled a feeling, you think because your searching for meaning. That drive, that desire to be something, that ruthless ambition, driven for passion thats so strong its almost destructive.



Life just seems to pass me by.

Waiting to exhale godammit.

Redemption might be far away, but atleast its garunteed. Freedom, and the ability to do be stress free and exercise free will come soon enough. Salvation is on its way, times will change, things will become better. The dark circles will go, the niccotine intake will reduce, loose jeans and nightsuits will be replaced by clothes that are condusive to leaving my house, worthy of seeing more than the stack of textbooks and empty coke cans. Life will consist of more than take out and study breaks, there will be music and dancing and laughter.

WHEN are these godforsaken exams going to END?

Death to economics. I might love this asshole subject, but its keeping me from doing everything that i want to do. Inflation, economic growth and demand/supply mean absolutely nothing to me at this point in time.

Countdown- 7days/168 hours/ 3 nervous breakdowns.

Living a little!

After 2 weeks of utter shit, of being so alone, of realizing just how isolated i am, of reaching the lowest of all lows..

Today happened.

After a decent exam, and a body that was so high on redbull, i meet the two of you, so happy to just see two familiar faces, two people for whom the love is unconditional. We always meet in our 'bhangan halats' not really caring what we look like, or what we're wearing, because, its just US. We sit and discuss everything under the sun. Run into goldies house and pounce on him till hes cursing in his 'sexy black undies' about how we woke him up from deep slumber. We eat 'ghar ka khana' but its still yum. You play my music, she dances as if no ones watching, I laugh till im crying. Im lying on those floor cushions, talking about our warped theories about how Kurt Kobain died, eventhough its probably not the transgendered hooker with the midget side kick who probably did it. I tell you about my plans and ambitions and you listen while I ramble on and on. He buys Haagen Das, and we eat till we cant eat anymore. We spend four hours doing absolutely nothing, sitting and staring, choking after 10 minute laughing fits. Planning the summer, the huge group of us travelling together, the Tiesto concert we have to go to, the stress of these bloody exams ending.



I was given a brush up lesson on 'fun'.

I love the both of you.




Thankyou.

The scene opens, three girls are shown lying down on a beige sofa. One girl, lets name her T, was flipping through the channels on her silver-gray television. There was a minimal light, just cracks shining through the ink blue curtains, enough to show the sheer exhaustion that inhibited their faces. A well deserved study break, to calm the nerves, to gather the strength to continue eventually.

The highly irritating flicking stops abruptly as a F.R.I.E.N.D.S rerun was coming on star world. The girl with her eyes shut (lets call her papaya) allows a smile to linger on her lips, and indulges in a world far removed from her own. Admidst snickers and chuckles, the ads start playing, and T begins commenting on each and every bloody advertisement that comes her way.

"Oh god, how can anyone watch these shows? Who cares what Americas Funniest Home Vidoes are?"

Papayas musters the strength to speak and says, "Actually my younger brother watches it. Its one of his favourites."

"You have a brother? Thats funny, you always came across as an only child."

Going with the flow

The high school girl turned 17 only one month back. Far from the myth of being sweet at sixteen, i was just as (if not more) confused and exhausted. Its pathetic really, to be so tired of a life that you havnt really lived yet. I often get the, "yeah your 17 going on 45" comment, and its completely justified. I think too much, analyze too much, make random assumptions, and end up killing myself in the process. Im surrounded by such diametrically opposed people. From parents, to the best friends, to practically everyone.

Im not like this in real life. Im a retard, the one who'll be laughing for absolutely no reason, and will be ready with a smart-ass comment to counter and beat anyone elses. People think im the most relaxed and calm person they have ever met, what you see is what you get. Im the agony aunt, call me at 4 in the morning, ill groan for a bit and then listen till you feel better. I do things that every other 17 year old does, from smiling when you get me 100 balloons on my birthday to squealing when i do well in a test. I listen to the same music, hangout with the same people, follow the same stuff on tv- I even visit the same countries when on holiday.

Am i really like everyone else? Well, you seem to think so. I thank whoever it is up there for surrounding me with people who are either really accepting, or really really stupid. Either way, it works well enough.

But, im not like you. I never will be. I love NY city because of the amazing Salvador Dahli i saw at the Met, not the great shopping. I would choose Alanis over the new Nelly cd. Ill listen to your problems, because im too scared to tell you my own, too scared that you'll laugh at me, or judge me for being so naive. I love the 100 balloons because i love how at night, they fall one by one, till theres one solitary balloon left and eventhough youll think itll fall soon enough, itll keep on hanging on, till you turn your back for one second and it comes floating down like all the rest of them. I love American Beauty, not because of the nude bits, but because for once, someone had the balls to present the truth, something that all of us have conveniently set aside. I meet you, spend time with you and laugh with you, because im perpetually haunted by the feeling of my own inadequacy, telling you what you want to hear, because my own opinion doesnt really matter.

Im sorry, for never being myself.


But, im always scared by the fact that you would stop loving me if I ever tried to be.

Conversations between me and myself

Stones, taught me to fly
Love, taught me to lie
Life, taught me to die
So its not hard to fall,
When you float like a cannonball.

I want magic to possess my fingers, allowing me to write things that i would never write, people i would never care for, movies i would never watch, things i would never dare to love.
I feel empty, completely hollow, as if ive been expelled from all spheres of normalcy and enthusiasm. I want to take risks, and for once in my life, do something because i want to, not because its what everyone else is doing. Sometimes i just want to be me. But its so scary, the very thought is terrifying. Im not a good person, neither am i worthy of other peoples attention, or other peoples care. I forget sometimes, that i am nobody.

My fingers are numb, a reflection of my current state of mind. Cursed voodoo dances through my veins, and sometimes, i want to give into the chant. Everything is cold, distant, i live in moulded perceptions of my existence. I refuse to accept things, move on, pick up the broken shreds of my life and start a fresh. What do i do instead? I walk on, the shreds cut through, and i bleed. And i cry, and my tears wash away the pain. But its all temporary. Pictures come back, voices resume their ranting, and soon, everything is back to how it used to be.

I manufacture illusions. I create these little bubbles of happiness, only because so much sorrow is impossible to mantain for so long. I forget that i am alone, that everyone around me is in crisis, and, as im binded to them, i fall with them, into a pool of strangers, each trying to upstage each other, each trying to make the biggest sacrifice, the biggest leap of faith.

I know that ill do the right thing, take the high road, its always the harder one, but im used to it. I dwell deeper into denial, afraid to wake up, to see the world for what it is. A world of misery and pain, some of which i had a part in. I refuse to comprehend that im capable of causing other people pain. Its convenient, i expect so much from people, but give absolutely nothing in return. I run from the truth, too scared to acknowledge it, because it will tell me that im not perfect, there are people out there who are better than me, who try harder, who achieve more- who are actually content with the person they have become

my halo is slipping down to choke me now

All the small things

10-44

Sitting and watching useless television, while my books lay on the bed, untouched and uncared for. Life seems boring, redundant and painfully monotonous. 2 whole weeks before it all ends and i can live again. Everything seems old and moulded.

10-45

A suprise visit from A. Just checking up on me. Burnt me a cd, and brought me food. Forced me to put of the tv and gave me a pep talk. Told me everything was going to be ok and that two weeks are not that long.

I love you.


A while later-

And life is happy once again :)

Things that make one (well... me) happy

1) When you think youve overslept, but when you check the time its still 4 in the morning and you realize you can go back to bed.

2) When someone give you a compliment, irrespective of how superficial or meaningless it might be. It still makes you feel better about yourself.

3) When you crave a particular kind of food, and you somehow manage to get your hands on it.

4) When a friend calls for no reason, and then instead of saying hello she starts belting out the lyrics of some cheesy song that has 80 million memories attached to it.

5) When you finally realize that you are over a situation that had been irritating you for a while now. When you can finally come to terms with it, and then eventually move on.

6) When you hear your song playing at a random store and you swaying your hips to it, while still trying to hold on to your dignity.

7) When you have a radical opinion, and someone agrees with you.

8) When you need niccotine, and theres only one cig left in the pack. ( I need to quit, i need MOTIVATION to quit)

9) When you randomly weigh yourself, and youve lost 4 pounds, eventhough you were not trying to.

10) When you get a late birthday gift, and its handmade. And is so emotional that you almost start crying. Its scary sometimes when you realize that you mean something to someone else. After all the self doubt and isolation, this comes as quite a shock.

Im loosing my favourite game.

Holy shit.

One dodgy article in Newsweek, and fifteen people have died.

I know,the whole "oh shit we are sorry fake article" nonsense is probaby just some major cover up by the US government in order to save their own ass. (Funny thing is, they actually think we believe them.) Its not like they put much emphasis on free speech or journalistic freedom. (Case in point- I just put on Fox News, and they are harping on about the bloody Micheal Jackson trial. I mean, get over it. For the love of god get over it.)

But still, its scary how much influence the media can have in moulding public opinion. People have DIED for gods sake.

Makes me rethink the whole journalism as a career thing. Do i want that responsibility? Or am i just too scared to do something that will actually have an impact on someone or something?

All i wish for is all i need..

You know what isnt fair? This heat. Its bloody unbearable.

Your hair does funny things, and you brain refuses to function. All sticky and sweaty, you question if your use of deodrant was enough.

The demand for the likes of Fa and Sure and all other smell removers mustve gone up so much these days. Our fine academic instituion needs to realize that under these circumstances its very very hard to work, to think, to even bother to attempt to write the 12 page answer that you need in order to even TRY to get a good grade. Its unfair really, people who take main stream subjects like Physics and Bio tend to get to sit in the auditorium, which is completely air contioned and chilly. But no, harrass the History and Literature students. In this case, there is NO strength in numbers.

(Yes i do realize that im trying to blame my performance today on the most stupidest reason thinkable.. but whatever... can hurt to try can it?)

Having said that, it wasn't bad really. Except i made the stupid mistake of speaking to the smartest girl after the exam. And she has this uncanny way of making you feel incredibly useless and pathetic in the short span of 2 minutes.

1 down 3 to go.

Imtahan number 2 tomorrow.

Relatively less stressed, relatively more prepared.

Life is better but no where close to great.

Whoever the hell is reading is, irrespective of wether you believe in god or not, PLEASE say a little prayer for me, if you have the time.

Does the word 'Hypocrisy' mean anything to you?

I have a relative who wants to get married to a strict muslim with minimal education and maximum 'modesty' . You know, achi family walee girls and all that jazz. He prays five times a day, has been for Umrah half a dozen times, never misses even one roza. He even went to Iran to study Islam as a subject for 2 years, he even learnt Arabic.

He just asked me if one of my friends could score him some hash. Or alcohol, whichever was less of a hassle, he prefers Absolut, but right now, he'll take anything.

DO I NEED TO WRITE ANY FURTHER?

Two sides to every story.

What do you do when your two best friends fight?

I know, this really isn't about me. This is narcissism at its peak. But still, WHAT the hell am i supposed to do? Guys can be so stupid some times, small problems and differences culminate in such huge events. Sometimes, diplomatic means can solve the problem, but no one seems to care anymore. Its been brewing for a while, but i never thought it could get so bad so fast. I dont want to be visiting people in hospitals. And all of this over one girl.

Its hard to remain nuetral, when there's so much at stake, and so little to fight over. Emotions run high, people who mean the world to you act like you dont exist. Ive been screamed at about ten times today. They are "my fucking friends" and they created the problem, even though i had nothing to do with it. I didnt even know what happened or when things got so serious. And now, there are two camps, and both of them are ready and armed to fight. And the chances are that im going to get caught somewhere in the crossfire.

They laugh at me when i try to say that im switzerland, that eventhough people who i love more than myself are involved i will somehow manage to stay out of it. Its impossible, they mean too much to me. But at this point, i dont know what else to do. Recognizing the problem would mean that i would have to deal with it, and right now, thats too much too ask. Im faced with the possibility of having my support system give up on me, and right now, wandering in denial seems like a better alternative, rather than facing the fact, that life will never be the same. That i will never be the same.

Whoever came up with the line, 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' was probably going through something similar to this.

And as the sun would set you would rise,
Fall from the sky into paradise,
Is there no light in your heart for me?
Youve closed your eyes you no longer see.

There were no lies between me and you
You said nothing of what you knew
But there was still something in your eyes
Left me helpless and paralysed.


No Ordinary Morning
Chicane

This song NEVER gets old.

Random lyricals.

Aint no sunshine when she's gone!
Only darkness everyday!
Aint no sunshine whens shes gone!
And she's always gone too long,

Everytime, she goes away.

I want this blog entry to be a testament to the fact that i have truly tried my best. What ever happens tomorrow will happen, but now, its out of my control. I gave it my all, i exerted myself as much as i truly could. This is it. This was my best shot.

(Eventhough i spent a lot of time on this godforsaken computer, and was not home much, and have let out about half the syllabus. Ah... mere details :D )

Blasphemy?

OO-er

Was innocently dancing away to Tiesto in the shower when the fajr azaan started.

God would not be too happy. (Its funny though, i claim to be agnostic... WHY do i even care?)


What I want to be doing right now-

1- Sleeping
2- Inhaling or drinking anything that would intoxicate me right out of my misery
3- Running far far away from the likes of history and literature.

What i am doing-

1- Catching a cold because my maid once AGAIN forgot to leave me a clean towel and therefore has caused to go into a shivering fit.
2- Looking at my books, then shutting them because its too late.
3- Sitting on orkut. This is the lowest point of my fucking existence.
4- Taking sleeping pills that will hopefully throw me into a deep slumber before dawn.

5-15 in the morning is such a shitty time

I disgust myself.

Im too young to feel this old.


-----------------------------



It may sound absurd
But don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed
But won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
And it's not easy to be me

Superman
Five for fighting

Backstreets Back

I hear that the Backstreet Boys have come out with a new single.

Some people just need to realize when its time to give up.

And for this boy band, it was much before their first single even came out.

Things i have learnt today-

1- Mothers day is on Sunday, not yesterday. Therefore i am NOT justified in thinking that im a horrible horrible daughter.

2- When someone buys you an ashtray, you tend to smoke more.

3- Pie in the Sky makes great chocolate cake.

4- Dont make the mistake of wearing a white bra with a black shirt. It shows. Which is odd but true.

5- Some guy in German history made it a point to give his treaties un-pronouncable names like the "Draikaiserbund" of 1881. Die Otto Van Bismarck die.

6- Otto Van Bismarck is already dead.

7- If you tie your hair when its wet you tend to get a headache.

8- I dont have brown eyes, i have light brown eyes. (BIG difference OK)

9- Things are always not as bad as you make them out to be.

10- Blogging is addictive, and QUITE a waste of precious time, of which i have very little to begin with.

On that note, byebye.

Running

"Said maybe, your gonna be the one that saves me
And afterall, your my wonderwall"


Wonderwall
Oasis

--


What a song

Its ironic that i cant afford to sing it to anyone.

Birthdays are supposed to be fun, not only for whos birthday it is, but for everyone.

Right?

Then what the fuck was today? It was fine, to an extent. The rush of finally getting out and not being under house arrest, buying gifts, the cake, the cheap candles. Bieng late and keeping everyone waiting and then finally piling into cars and trying to be quiet at goldies so that he wouldnt here us climbing up the stairs. Trying to control a laughing fit and NOT managing, walking in singing, and then laughing like an idiot when he's sitting there in his boxers.

And then

WHO is that? No, please tell me im hallucinating. Please. It cant be you. No. Please please. I beg of you. This is awkward, and weird, just go away. Do i meet you? say hello? or do i ignore you?

"Hi"

"Hey.. howve u been?"

"Good. The same really."

And then i walk off, ignore ignore ignore. This is horrible. Somehow we go through the entire night avoiding each other, making an effort to act like there was no past, nothing happened between us, we were nothing, and now, we are even less than that.

And then you sit next to me on the way back. Why? Why? WHY.

And it all comes flooding back. WHY did you make it awkward between us? It was fine, we got along fine, everything was good. And then, you tell me you love me.

WHY?

And i freak out, i cant handle stuff like this, i just cant, i wasnt built for relationships or anything of that sort. It just not meant to be. Let it it go , please. And my so called friends, are making it SO obvious. STOP please STOP. I cant confront things, i just run away, far away. And do whatever i can to act like im fine. I cant talk about my "feelings". Im an emotionally withdrawn person, and i highly doubt you can change that.

I get home, and get shit from everyone. Why was i ignoring him? Why was i making such a big deal out of it? Everyone thinks im so full of it, trying to make a big deal out of things that SHOULD have ended a while back. Feelings that should have died down, words that should have been spoken, problems that should have been sorted out.

And i have no one to stick up for me, just take my side, eventhough im wrong, just because, well because its unconditional.

Im such a bitch. A good guy. Who everyone loves. And this is what i do.

I hate myself. This is the lowest low. This is the end. This is it.

I want to dissapear, just go away, be anywhere but here.




I wish i could just erase this night away.



-

And here i go switching sides again.

Damn, i was angry yesterday

A good night of sleep + increased niccotine and caffeine intake + my best friends birthday (GREAT excuse to not study) = bliss.

Life is not great, neither is it close to ok. But whatever, i really couldnt be bothered to sit here and maaro some pseudo intellectual bullshit that will be of absolutely no significance to me or anyone who reads this.

WHAT i ask, is the point of this?

------------------------------

I was walking down the busy streets of Mumbai city, in search of the biggest strawberry i could find. When i say walking, i mean strolling at a incredibly slow rate, just trying to absorb everything around me. This city never fails to suprise me. There is so much, in such a small space, so congested so saturated that things are overlapping and eating into each other. Lines of wealth, happiness and social status are blurred, everyone does their thing, struggling to achieve what they have been striving for wether it be enough money to feed their family of 6 or the downpayment on their new car. The city boasts of diversity. Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, women in sarees, women in shorts, women of colour, women at work, women at home, vegitarians, carnivores, sufis, intellectuals, labourers, elite, children, old, happy, sad. And this is all present in one square metre of the vast city.

So in this whirlwind walks in a Pakistani, completely overwhelmed, but completely overjoyed. I felt like a discoverer, about to uncover some hidden treasure in the winding roads and broken houses. Almost in a trance, a smile would linger on my lips, an odd sort of contentment. I was so lost, but i felt strangely at home, because everyone can relate to someone or something here. You can never feel different, or odd, because there has to be SOMEONE who feels the exact same way. Each footstep echoed of all the people who had taken these steps before. There was truth and wisdom in them, and for a moment, i felt part of this big jumble of eccentricites.

To ruin all of this, walks in a annoying fruit vendor

"Baji baji.. buy some fruit"

"You have strawberrys?"

"Sorry, they are out of season, we have everything else though. Best fruit at the best price in all of Mumbai."

"Forget it, im only interested in strawberrys, thanks."

"Oh comeon. You cant survive on just one fruit, give something else a shot. I have melons peaches and papayas."

"I dont like papayas."

"Well obviously you dont, youve never tried my papayas."

"And what the hell makes your papayas so bloody special?"

"Oh come on baji, how can anything named discopapaya not be special? The name says it all."

4-26 in the morning

Am experiencing utter and complete brain freeze. I cannot retain a single extra peice of information concerning anything remotely linked to the shit that the so called educators of this god for saken country like to call academics.

Fucking hell, my brain has given up on me, its telling me to shut the fuck up, stop talking and go to sleep. But as most normal people tend to not have conversations with their brains i struggle on, in search of god only knows what, trying really hard to not fall asleep on a big pile of history books and an empty can of red bull (which tastes like yesterdays piss by the way).

Nothing is helping, not my "feel alive" music selection, nor the cigarette that hangs loosely from my mouth, nor the call that tried to motivate me. Nothing. No one.

I give up.

I give the fuck up.

Can somone just fucking kill me?

I miss going out and meeting people and sitting and talking and laughing (WHY have i stopped laughing?) and just not caring, not having anything to worry about, to fret over, loose sleep over, to bother with. I miss feeling intelligent, and pretty, and loved.

I miss feeling loved.




I cant take this, i just cant.

The bigger picture

And here i sit, at 3-05 in the morning, complaining about my utter uselessness, lack of commitment and association to weird men.

Who the fuck am i to complain? There are people in this world who live perfectly happy lives, and have faced a hell-of-a-lot more than i ever will. Case in point-

1- A friend who's dad recently passed away because a weird pain in his back ultimately caused the entire left side of his body to become paralysed. After unsucesful surgery, the only power that the man had over his bieng was off blinking once when he meant to imply a "yes" and blinking twice to imply a "no". As if this wasnt bad enough, my friends younger brother is mentally defficient, and his one source of support was his father, to such an extent that the guy is almost normal now, just because of the positive influence of his dad. Now, strapped for cash, my friend is taking a year off from university to work and support the family. Bloody hell.. and i complain about not having a social life that i actually enjoy, and friends that mean nothing.

2- The man who i meet in India when i visit every winter. The son of a news paper hauker, my grandfather lived in slums and had no money for decent food or clothing. From such a bleak beginning, hes now a supreme court lawyer, giving back to a society which gave him nothing much to begin with. And i complain about a zit on my cheek.

3- A friend, whos mother is a schizophrenic, and often hears voices which tell her to leave the house and just dissapear. Ive been on those hunts, searching for where her mother has gone this time, hoping against hope that she hasnt hurt herself. As if that wasnt enough, her elder brother died when he was 17, and she was too young to understand the real implications of what had happened. Now, shes studying at Cambridge, only because Oxford couldnt convince her that it was better. And here i complain about how theirs nothing ever worth eating in my fridge.

4- (On a lighter note.. eventhough the jump from death to this might be a bit too much to ask)
My relative, who has SOMEHOW gone and fallen in love with his maids daughters friend. No joke, hes in love, and REAL love by the way, with the daughter of a truck driver, who earns less than the cost of his last meal at the likes of Okra and Aylanto. Born and bred in London, here for some work, the guy somehow manages to land himself in this. I dont know wether to be incredibly elitist and say, "WHO are you kidding?" or just smile and go along with it. The girl (my mother for some reason named her gul-e-bulbul) is "smoking hot" he claims. And here i complain about a guy who asks for my number. DUDE atleast he can speak english.

5- That guy i met once in Thailand, whos wife ran away with his best friend. (Yes that ACTUALLY happens in REAL life.)

6- The mosquito i just killed. Mundane lives over cold bloody murder? Give me monotony anyday.

There is real pain in this world, and i should just thank whoever the hell is up there for giving me a semi-sane family, a solid support system, and the ability to think, smile, cry and love. Sometimes, when you stop swimming in the endless sea of your shortcomings and come up for air, you realize, that its really NOT that bad, and even if it is, it can be much much worse.

A weird take on it i know, but its all thats keeping me going right now.