pair annihilation

2010-08-10T03:36:00.001-07:00

Will nt b blogging here anymore. Thankyou to all who've been following this, many many many people who've txtd me and calld me abt my posts, instead of commenting here. Fr those who commented, I'm indebted. Shifting onto a new location fr my blog and apologies fr nt sharing the ID.
Cheers.

2010-08-02T12:18:00.001-07:00

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will nt cry. I will not cry. I wil nt cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not crym I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will not cry. I will not cry7m I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will nt cry. I will nt crym I will notvcry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I iwll nt cryu. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will t cry. I will mnt cry. I wikk nt cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will n cry. I wil mnt cry. I willn ot cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will nt0 cry. I will ny cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will mnt cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will nt cry. I will not cry. I will mnt vry. I will nt cry. I will mnt cry. I will ny cry. I will nt cry

2010-07-31T12:24:00.000-07:00

Yeah. I wdnt want to be me either.

:(

Always- Switchfoot

2010-07-28T04:50:00.000-07:00

This is the start
This is your heart
This is the day you were born
This is the sun
These are your lungs
This is the day you were born
And I am always yours
These are the scars
Deep in your heart
This is the place you were born
This is the hole
Where most of your soul
Comes ripping out
From the places you’ve been torn
And it is always yours
But I am always yours
Hallelujah!
I’m caving in
Hallelujah!
I’m in love again
Hallelujah!
I’m a wretched man
Hallelujah!
Every breath is a second chance
And it is always yours
And I am always yours

2010-07-27T01:14:00.000-07:00

Dear God,
I think marriage is coming my way. Could you make the rest of my life better than the past 26-1/2 yrs? I don't think I can take much more of this.

2010-06-13T04:34:00.000-07:00

The journey back to home is always sobering in quite a lot of ways. The charm wears off and realities start sinking in; realities of regular life... Simple ones to the complex sort. Something as simple as sleeping on urt own bed after a long time, fluffing another pillow and wearing ur favourite worn PJs, ripped at places. Then complexities to putting all relationships back to normal, thinking of all the work tht u left pending or the people u left hanging, decisions to be made... Hard, tough decisions tht made leave for a break in the first place. Coming back from a break is like giving up drugs after smone jst introduced them to you. It's not particularly hard, but u just dnt want to do it. You think up of ten
-million-and-reasons how u can avoid it and then one hard cold logical reason comes along and screws all your happy excuses. And in that one reason, u realize how u had, jst for a moment, slipped into a happy alter universe where living in a shiny bubble, wearing rose colored glasses made you blissfully happy. Yes, just before reality crashed in and the roof caved in. It is tht one moment of truth which has been discussed in all religions and politics of the world. It's called 'A Complete Screw over".

2010-06-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

I wdnt knw it if it came in a snow ball and hit me square on my face, in the middle of blustering december. I wdnt knw how to get by the nights where the words on my novel's pages suddenly turn blurry and the spilt drop of water announces the oncoming tears. I wdnt even recognise you now, after all this time, even though I'm sure the play of shadows of your face will still be as captivating as it once was. Recognizable is one thng only: this dropped stomach, emptied hollowness tht surrounds the pit of my being, some where windowless, when I'm generally sitting alone, fiddling with my mobile, texting random people whose calls went unanswered eons ago. That, my boved, is when I'd give up all, ALL, just to get rid of it. Of the scent tht surrounds me at odd moments and lingers somewhere just enough far off for me to never fully inhale it. I wud giv all to get rid of this bondage, where living means less than the material at hand.

I wonder, if I suddenly called out your name one day, will u appear infront of me? Or will I be hauled to some far off asylum, where everyone will mourn the death of my existance?

Breathe Me- Sia

2010-05-09T08:32:00.000-07:00

Help, I have done it again

I have been here many times before

I hurt myself again today

And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend

Hold me, wrap me up

Unfold me

I am small

and needy

Warm me up

And breathe me

Ouch

I have lost myself again

Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,

Yeah I think that I might break

Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend

Hold me, wrap me up

Unfold me

I am small

and needy

Warm me up

And breathe me

2009-12-30T09:42:00.000-08:00

i know if i go through the test set out before me, yet again. i'm scared and i don't know where to turn to. its difficult once you decide to do all on your own. its tedious. its haphazard. and in the end, u always compete with urself; which by the way, sux.

i remember this one time, a couple of years ago when i was telling one of my friends to 'just let go" of the situation and it will right itself according to some cosmic law. today, when i try to take my own advice, i can't. is it because i know the outcome? just like always, i might add. boldly. i always know how things are going to end up. i guess everybody can see in the future. we all know how and where we'll end up. when is the question. anyway, i know. its weird, but like some dogged cause, ill go after it again and again and again, knowing each time wht the outcome will be. is it strange? i know not. all i know is: each time i try to let things go, they are hurled towards me with such force tht leaves me gasping.

now, the heart of the matter is, i don't want to go to wherever im expected to be. i feel like my hamster: forever on the wheel, never really achieving anything of substance. i don't want to be the person im going to be once i see you. im sorry. i am. but i just cant do it. even though i will.

this little girl, in a land not so far away, fell in love with a boy who was everything she'd imagine. she couldn't believe her luck at first. today, torn and splintered to smithereens, she still can't believe it. she's broken so bad, she doesnt know how to heal herself. imagine tht!

2009-12-17T00:12:00.000-08:00

While teaching a bunch of randy 10 yr olds, the word "Miracle" came up. many definitions were tried, dictionaries were opened and brains were rummaged {read: pillaged} but their minds just couldn't wrap around the concept of a miracle. It was funny; i knew exactly what made a miracle, but i couldn't give that example!

Finally, we thought of a really old, sick man on the death bed in a lonely hospital room who suddenly gets better one fine day! Thus, the word "miracle" was established along with "immaculate" and many others.

wish the hands of the clock could be turned back by a miracle.

.

2009-10-25T14:13:00.001-07:00

Only I can get my heart broken whilst asleep and wake up weeping from a dream, clutching the last vestiges of a faithless smoke screen.
Only I can, then, squeeze my eyes shut and pray fervently for my mind to drift back to that believable haze so I can convince you not to leave.
Only I, who has helped a hundred, can find myself unable to sever and erase the past tense from my memory.
Only I, can be this 'morbid'.

2009-10-18T12:05:00.000-07:00

Kaisay kuch loag bichartay hain...

2009-10-08T07:06:00.000-07:00

I feel like a tree tht's thick n strng n tall, frevr close to the sun bt nvr to the ground below where new spring flowr saps wud b birthd in a bed of forevr dewy grass n marshy land. I feel ive missd out on important thngs whyl being tht tree, tht grew up tall in the first place to stop the sun frm takng the dew. I feel exhausted n cheated.

Champions Trophy 09

2009-10-02T07:11:00.000-07:00

Aus vs Eng (1st semi)

Commentator: So, did u always say "please" and "thankyou" in ur time?

Ravi Shastri: only in Pakistan where there arn't any neutral umpires

< yo, ravi, man, i hope us Pakistanis fuckd u gud n proper bck tht time jst like v did ths tournament. No wondr u stil remembr wht v were like. Fckng assholes. What a bunch ov sore losers u guys are! >

2009-09-23T10:54:00.000-07:00

I loathe you. But I loathe myself even more.

2009-09-14T06:08:00.001-07:00

She'd scream bt nbdy wd answr hr. She'd whspr n only the walls wd whspr bk. She'd sit in the path ov the gvng, bt wd rcev nthng in rtrn. Lmpd n xhaustd, she lukd skywrd n nvr laid eyes on hr soul again. Flesh mongr, she ws thn calld.

2009-07-27T07:45:00.001-07:00

My city burns
the leaves ashen, fall to heat
grain, dust never settle
and my numb people...
They bear the burden ov a countless deaths
faces a hopeless and grey

They walk a zombie walk
they talk in hushd tones; a grotesque talk
children dont run whn my city burns
they play the hangman game
a murderous axe hangs above
my city burns a slow death

My people lie in a drug haze
waters dont give us shining pearls
covered in red, they smell of fear, injustice
the sun eclipsed forevr, moon lends no helpng hand

My city burns and my people
they close the doors firmly
and celebrate the martydom
of the unborn and the living

My city burns...
My city burns.

2009-07-22T12:04:00.000-07:00

I knw he's dyng. As each day dawns, it mite b hs last sunrise. As nite falls, he may nvr wake up again. I dnt knw hw to do ths anymore. With each second passng, i lose a bit of hm. My heart hurts real bad. I dnt sleep, i'd rathr listn to hm breathng all nite. Im so scared. Please. Dont make hm leave me. I dnt knw wht to do. Hw to stop hm frm leavng. Hw to stop u frm takng hm... I dnt knw

2009-07-20T12:18:00.001-07:00

Dekho duur ik laash pari hai,

Chorahay k daa'en janib,

Konay pr sunsaan gali k,

Kachra kundi dekh rahay ho?

Us k pas lahu me luthri,

Khaak aaluda bikhri bikhri,

Ghair ya apna,kon hai janay!

Aao dekhein aur pehchanein,

Naqsh mita dalay goli ne,

Rangat khoon me doob gai hai,

Jaib tatolo,kia rakha hai?

Ye do khoon se tr gajrey hen,

Das das k 2 note rakhay hen,

Haath jo neechay dba hua hai,

Is ki sakht garift me kia hai?

Shayad hai school ka basta,

Jaib se ye kia jhaank raha hai,

Ik parcha hai,khat hai shayed,

Tooti phooti c urdu me,

Rang brangi pencilon k,

Sb rangon se likha hua hai,

"Aj jo bhooly basta mera,

Kutti ho jae gi tmse,

Taafi aur biscuit b lana,

Pyarey abu jaldi aana"

Missed.

2009-07-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

Remembr how i once said, "u hav so many ppl around u, if one goes missing, u won't notice"?

Turns out, i was right.

2009-07-11T10:25:00.001-07:00

Im writing a book. I jst dnt knw if i want ppl to read it.

Also, the Presidnt ov Pakistan, alng wth hs ntire govt body, is an idiot.

Bloody Donkeys

2009-06-25T09:38:00.000-07:00

A little boy wanted Rs.50 very badly & prayed for weeks but nothing happened.
Finally he decided to write God a letter requesting Rs.50.
When the postal authorities recieved the letter adressed to GOD, PAKISTAN, they decided to fwd it to the Finance Ministr of Pakistan as a joke.
The Finance Ministr was so amused that he instructed his secretary to send the little boy Rs.20, thinkng this would appear to be a lot of money to a little boy & he won't get spoiled.
The little boy ws delighted with Rs.20 & decided to write a thankyou note to God, which read: "Dear God, thankyou very much for sending the money. However, I noticed that you sent it through the Finance Minister in Islamabad & those bloody donkeys deducted Rs.30 in taxes!"

Only once.

2009-06-15T12:56:00.001-07:00

once
and for once in all
i have lived in a shallow cave
a near- dry river flows by
one, a single, flower blooms at mid day
the sun refuses to light the time...
if, a sleepy gaze of the eye
an empty moon lulls it back to sleep

once
a sparkle: shiny, smooth, shiny still
worn crushed: powdered, de glazed

and once
the hand reaches out by me
pulls, pulls, takes the pretty flower
i shed, tears, silent, laughing sorrows
pain, etched misery; once

once.

2009-06-02T04:42:00.001-07:00

I went shoppng tday, nt the kind whn u dress up (dressing up: wearing nice pants instead of shalwar, co- ordinatd earings, bags, shoes, fake- designr shades) and go to Bareezé, Kapas or J. etc, bt whn u simply pik ur car keys up, reassure tht u, indeed, r supportng ur dupatta n ur handbag (multi purpose, lots ov pockets) n simply go to shop for house utilities. So, anyway, as i ws abt to leav, my youngr sib (who had jst nw woken up; doing only- the- Lord- knws-wht the ntire nite ) wishd rathr woefully fr a pizza. Nw since PH r asses n dnt dlivr an ordr fr less thn 250/- (n he wantd tht 144/- deal), "gettng pizza" went strait up my list. Leavng, made a quick stop at an ATM (got my salary tday! Yippiee), which turnd out 2b not- so- quick. An Aunty (i refuse to call hr by any othr name), had aparntly gottn hr card stuck n nw, armd wth a hair pin, ws jabbng the poor machine in hopes of gettng the card bck. Quite obviously, the machine didnt let up (mimicking hr husband most probably). Aftr being fascinatd for abt 8 mints, my "patience well" had gottn its full taste ov curiosity n ws running rathr low. I movd to anthr one- link, gt my money out n braked whn i saw a prime parking location infrnt ov the whole- sellers (since v always buy a month's stuff, othr thn FMCGs). I had jst ntrd the shop, sed hi, hw r u?, n askd abt hs entire aulad whn my mobile beepd (yeah, it beeps like Meredith Grey's beepr n yeah, it's jst as imp!). I had totally forgottn abt the pizza. Urgh. The bear was frustratd, the youngr one ws hungry! As i left the whole- sellrs, the keepr ws baffld n i ws nearly in tears. Wud i evr find anthr parkng spot like ths? As xpctd, the PH ppl were ovrly chummy (borderng on Type 2 diabetes) n atleast 3 ppl (xcludng the door man) made a whole deal ov sayng thankyous. Disgustd (yes, im nt so kind), i left the almost charsi- happy place n dlivrd the pizza to the dumab man at home. "Pepsi he lye ho na?", i ws askd. I simply walkd bck 2 my car and keepng my fingrs crossd, proceeded to the markt once again. Yes, the parkng ws gone n urs truly had to park 3 shops away. "Baita, paisay ghar bhool ayen theen?", he (no more "uncle") chuckd. Asshole, i muttrd undr my breath n startd browsing through the aisles. Amma, who ws wth me the ntire time, kept remindng me hw v dnt need tooth pastes (abba wil gt thm in the eve), cans ov beans (v already hav 4 lyng in the cabinets), olive oil ("yeh acha nai lag raha... Shayad xpired hai"), dove soaps (v dnt hv any space to keep them) n on n on n on. I knew wht ws goin on: abba n mama hate it whn i spnd my salary on house supplies. Therefore, amma and hr elbowng were firmly ignord n i shoppd to my dil's content. Frm there, Bakewell ws the nxt stop where a dumb man kept knockng on my gari's window evn aftr repeatd shoo- shooing n maaf- kero- baba. Finally, 10/- baild us out. Needless to say, i went in alone, askng ma to keep an eye on the car (always works!). Loaded, as i came out, the same baba startd followng me, yt again. Hwevr, a fixd stare soon got rid of hm n as i sat myslf in the car, "gas kub dalwani hai?", greetd me. "ubhi ma", i dutifully replied n got on the road to the pump. The pump, is an awkward place. Half the men, while tryng to b polite, stumble on their wordngs while rest ov the miserabl lot jst stares n wonders why women dnt stay at home. Finally, gettng the gas n payng 57p xtra, v trudgd along to our house, tired n sweaty n fully acknwldgng the fact tht v had frgottn atleast 3 thngs.

Yeah, call me a brat but...

2009-05-16T11:31:00.003-07:00

Quit being an ass, you stupid nation of over confident, anemic-and-obese-at-the-same-time enron runners, stubborn and pig headed, over grown bullies. So what if we're hoarding nuclear weapons? So what if we don't want to give them up? And we don't like sharing ours either. Play with your damn toys! Doesn't matter how we got them, they are ours!! Deal with it. And oh, how's the osama-and-swine fever going for you guys :p

If you see it, it's mine
If you touch it, it's mine
If it's broken, it's yours...
But I still get to keep the pieces!

Dnt want to want it

2009-05-11T08:28:00.000-07:00

I dnt want to. Bt i miss u. I mite nt b the person u'd like nw, u mite nt associate wth the person I'v bcum. Bt, i do miss u. I'd still like to sing n dance with u. I'd still like to b held by u. Evn though i dnt want to want it.

2009-04-23T22:40:00.000-07:00

Things make no bloody sense anymore. Its bullshit and its unfair. Its bloody demeaning too. Atleast give me some credit, i deserve a little respect, dont go on treating me like anybody or everybody else. I did spend 7 years of my life with you and really... You dont need to come up with small talk just before my birthday so it wont be awkward when you call to wish me.
I'm sick of this bakwas. I'm sick of you having your mood swings and i'm sick of you being an ass and i'm sick of being patient, waiting for your moods to pass or your phases to get better. I'm sick of being sick.
Let me go, because i cant. I've spent too much time with you to let you go. I've loved you with too much faith to let you go one day.
Stay and love me, or just go... Just go.

2009-04-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

U knw man, if a supposd frnd ws going out wth anybdy, u thnk they'd hav the decency to atleast tel u bfore u found out frm smbdy totally random in an insignificant cnversation

2009-04-10T07:10:00.001-07:00

Please.

2009-03-28T07:29:00.001-07:00

Sometimes a piece of sun, burned like a coin in my hand

I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine you know

-pablo neruda

The Drunk

2009-03-16T17:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it is such a bore to just lay back like a third party and view whatever's going on around you. i know, i know. most of us have had the experience of floating *even in the absence of liquor*, time standing still *no hash involved*, people passing by *no pills either* and blah blah blah. but really, when this starts happening to you too soon, too often, you really need to get up from your comfortable couch and have a serious look around: are you dead? if not, then ure prolly going to... very very soon.

life is a shitty bubble. u stay init, ure screwed. u get outta it, well... do i need to elaborate the farts and the stink? but such is the circumstance, that u do get out, u do smell the stink and u do meet farts. then u try to go back into that shitty bubble of urs and realize that sm asshole has already taken the key, has moved in and is now bent on making it miserable for you even more. what can one do, short of putting a gun to one's head? one rests...

self deprecating laughs are sometimes so wholesome that it boggles the mind. but if u say this to a psychologist, ure in for a treat... and he's in for a whole lotta money. i think i remmember some incidents and i think i remember them clearly enough to come up with some solid facts. but the thing with memories is that u cant possibly use them as an argument. "oh, i didnt mean THAT", or "oh? is THAT what you thought?" are some of the most often used counter- arguments that mean to shut u up. irony: u cant do anythng else but to shut up... and save whatever dignity uve gotten left... and run!

anyway, i dont know what's up with everybody i know. they act so predictably correct that it has become oh- so- boring. why dont u meet me? lets have a party! hey, lissen, wanna meet up? NO MAN, I DONT WANT TO MEET UP! YOU BORE ME. U IRRITATE ME. U ANNOY ME. NO, I DONT THINK WE CAN MAKE THIS WORK... i wish i could say all that really loud. but i cant. supposed to be rude. go figure.

what i dont understand is have people been left with no shame? how can u say one thing and then deny it the next moment because of the fear of opposition? i have been given the oppertunity to say i- told- you- so a million times, but dont know why i defer from it. mebbe im a hypocritical being too. wouldn't that be a hoot!

so anyway, this woman i work with is so stuck up that she just HAS TO compete with everyone in everything and everywhere. Give it a break, lady. nobody wants to be in the book of records with you. take the position. hell, take all the positions. see if anyone of us cares. but noooo. sometimes, it takes all my courage just to snap my head back from her stare *prehhty lesbian, if i say so myself* and continue as if nothing went wrong in my body, as if a mighty explosion didnt shake my nerves like a godamn quake. but as they say, it only makes u tougher... or look the part atleast.

my birthday is coming up. i just want smbdy to take me from all this chaos and mess as my present. anywhere wud be good. calm peaceful. wherevr there arnt any decisions to be made, early morning chats would be somethng to look forward to and where i wud be a little loved. im turning 25. i dont like the person ive turned to.

signing off: the drunkard.

2009-03-15T05:31:00.000-07:00

A Random thought !

Politics. Why oh why, I wonder, are the people who live in a 'democratic' country whining about the (insane) decisions of the (insane) President that they voted in power? It's okay people the bright side is, there is a lesson to be learned here. Assuming that we even have a country four years from now, we now know that we should 'not' elect illiterate (insane) idiots into office simply because they're riding on the shoulders of their dead wife.

~ ZILL • E • ILLAHI ~

ref: http://zilleillahi.blogspot.com/

The Stray Dog

2009-02-20T09:49:00.000-08:00

Whn wil u speak up?
ths life is jst too hard
told to compromise the start
beat ov consistnt drums
who cud evr gt away
ppl die a silent death
hips sway...

eternity in waitng,
mumbling in the dark
strength ebbs away
thngs flow array

stones n pebbles
sticks n creeps
i hungr frm a death
my breath doesnt leave

fingrprints n foot casts
dirt streaks, bike marks
souls like sharks n dogs...
Forevr bark, bark, bark!

Luk at u
solace in silence n eyes downcast
whn wil u luk up, mar the earth?
it pours, it blows
it makes a loud blast

raise, rise, death is nt an end
a small curve it is, a mere bend
ask fr frgvnes, cntinue to light
sight ur dstiny n do thngs right... use ur might
nvr gv up a fight

whn wil u speak up
whn wil u try?
my soul grows weary
thngs pass by

chew off a large piece
work ur bite
nvr let a man down
nor evr hide

-rooj

'Roadside'

2009-01-21T06:18:00.000-08:00

Tell me what I'm s'posed to do,

With all these leftover feelings of you,

'Cause I don't know,

And tell me how I'm s'posed to feel,

When all these nightmares become real,

'Cause I don't know,

And I don't think, you see the places inside me that I find you,

And I don't know, how we separate the lies here from the truth,

And I don't know, how we woke up one day somehow thought we knew,

Exactly what we're supposed to do.

So leave me, at the Roadside,

And hang me, up and out to dry,

So leave me, at the Roadside,

And hang me, up and out to dry,

And I don't think, you see the places inside me that I find you,

And I don't know, how we woke up one day somehow thought we knew,

Exactly what we're supposed to do.

So leave me, at the Roadside,
And hang me, up and out to dry,
So leave me, at the Roadside,
And hang me, up and out to dry,

And I don't think, you see the places inside me that I find you,
And I don't know, how we woke up one day somehow thought we knew,
Exactly what we're supposed to do.

ullu ka patha!

2009-01-18T07:00:00.000-08:00

This is that phase of my life where i am just waiting for something to happen so i can cry buckets of tears. and ironically, nothing is happening. i just keep seeing zardari aka ullu ka patha on the TV and in the papers all the time and no, i just will NOT cry looking at him. they maybe worthless, but my tears will not be wasted on him atleast. also, again, atif aslam is GAY!

moi

2009-01-04T02:06:00.000-08:00

I wonder if it is possible for two people to “meet” each other at the exact same time in all possible alternate universe. I wonder if those people will “feel” the same things they felt the “first time” if the first time was repeated. I wonder when we will find the “right” words to say to “each other”. I wonder when you will stop telling yourself that you can “live” like this. I wonder if you “remember” our meaningless conversations. I wonder if you still think about all those plans that never “worked out”. I wonder what will “happen” to “us” now.

It IS too late, right? We CAN feel it, right? We ARE different, right? This just CAN’T work out, right?

How will you ever find me if you ever looked? I'm gone so far away now. I was there once. I waited too. I waited, alone and very scared and very sure that you’d never come looking. But I waited. Just so that I could hate you more. Enough to forget you. Enough never to even think about waiting for anybody again. I’m still waiting though. Doesn’t seem as if my theory worked. I’ve come so far away from you now that I see only shadows behind me. Silhouettes that move; move back, move away.

I wonder if I was ever capable of this. I wonder if hiding is a great option. I wonder if I can hide myself in tiny parts. I wonder if my smithereens will hurt many people. If they do, I wonder if that’ll be my fault. I wonder why people called you such a master. Did I do too? I wonder why.

What am I to do with “me” now? “Me” doesn’t know how to do anything without “you”. “Me” looks everywhere for “us”. When “me” cries over the broken toy, nobody is there to glue “you” to “us”.

I’m here and I’m cold and scared and very very drunk. And still in my senses. The rest of the world is starting a new day with their wounded emotions and broken hearts. Me? I’m looking at the door every two minutes, hoping that you’ll walk in and get me drunk enough to forget you. But you won’t come. Because I’m not worth it. I’m just not.

The Blank Spaces

2008-10-04T09:02:00.000-07:00

Tonight, unlike many others, I really am here to try my patience and stretch my endurance to the limit to write a piece that is very close to my heart… and no, it is not a criticism on the current president of Pakistan: “Janab” Asif Ali Zardari (Bhutto). Although now that I have mentioned this, it won’t take but a minute to rejuvenate one’s memory and recall how “Janab” Bhutto didn’t seem too pressed to leave Sarah Palin’s hand after not one, not two; but three handshakes and then offered to embrace her in one of his arms- around- your- entire ass- hugs (numerous of which our dear “Miss” Sherry *Shereen to some* Rehman has undoubtedly tested and apparently approved). And while one’s memory is being jostled as it is, also a gentle reminder of what our “Janab” Sahab Bhutto wrote in the guest book at the Quaid- e- Azam’s mausoleum where “God” and “strength” were spelt as “goad” and “strenth” respectively. Such is the state of affairs (Affairs: state affairs and no, nobody is pointing a finger towards “Miss” Sherry Rehman here).

Anyway, what’s done is done. Pakistan’s majority decided that they’d rather have a wolf- in- a- sheep- skin as their president than to redefine the term: democracy, and now, atleast I can sleep well at night knowing I wasn’t a part of this horrendous act of sheer stupidity. Also, “Bhutto aaj bhi zinda hay!” *yawns*

Now, since I said that this article is NOT about the political status our country enjoys (quite uniquely, if I dare say), I’d better start to my point here. You see, this friend of mine is here (in the Federal Capital) from Lahore (yes, u guessed it: the food street city) and is finally trying to make something of himself that doesn’t put his family name to shame and his father’s face in a not- so- becoming shade of red. He’s ecstatic; working for the people who are organizing the RBS 20/20 Cricket series this October and enjoying every minute of the late night working hours he’s putting in. Sometimes, he calls at ludicrous hours wanting to assemble a team of graphic artists (if anyone is interested, please let me know), mascot designers and others. When he finally does decide to sleep, he has to walk atleast 2 km from his work place to his apartment (each being in Bara Kahu) where upon he is faced to his room mate (code name: The Great Tragedy), who not only listens to Pink Floyd (ALL THE TIME) but also insists on strumming his guitar while he’s in the holy act. And the next morning brings the same walk and the same grueling working hours for him. But he’s doing what he’s doing because he “likes” it. One does wonder why men never show the same commitment to their girls (mothers, wives, daughters etc)

Then there is another friend: He just completed his med studies and is now in the nauseating practice of 24 to 30 hr shifts where he has to pull marbles and pebbles out of children’s noses (children whose parents should really be boxed in the ears for providing the young ones with ammunition in the first place). Sometimes his highlight of an entire week is a football game (soccer for our American “friends” who keep bombing innocents at our borders). He sounds tired usually, hardly ever complains about things (except for the time when a pathan bhai came to him with a dead cockroach in his ear) and basically passes each hour as it comes: sleeps when he gets the time, eats when he realizes a girl is not responsible for the swooning of his head and texts back religiously. Sometimes, he even manages to update his blog. He keeps doing it because that’s the only thing he’s being asked to do (If only our president: Janab Asif Ali Zardari Bhutto and our prime minister: Gillani- Something would realize the same fate).

I would also like to mention another friend of mine. He just left for the UK or the Great Britain (whatever your poison maybe) for his masters. The last time we met up, he seemed more interested in lighting his cigarettes than in listening to my incessant chatter (so what if I kept calling him a cradle snatcher or a child molester just because his mother had her eyes on a 16- 18 yr old girl for him?). Initially, when he had shifted to Islamabad around 5 ½ yrs ago, he had absolutely hated Islamabad: The Beautiful. As far as I’m concerned, his friends were shit- movers at that time and it was their entire fault! Anyway, we became good friends just a few months before he got his credits transferred to some high- five university in UK where he went on to get fabulous scores. His dad’s a big shot in something- I’m- not- sure- I- should- mention (but be assured, he doesn’t work for Taliban or Fidaeen- e- Islam) and he basically enjoyed sharing the laughs with me when people made fools of themselves trying to impress his dad. When he again applied for masters in UK, he got accepted by the university of his pick and off he went to a cold and sad place, yet again. He went away to make something credible of himself so when he does decide to have an opinion about something important, people listen to him and not just chant, “Bhutto aaj bhi zinda hay” over and over again.

Another friend of mine is the exact opposite: he wore his scruffy boots (well, not so scruffy), walked up to the people in his house and told them that he’s just not interested in going away for further education. From what I can safely presume, that decision must have not gone down well but he did stick by it and is now working here. Not surprisingly, most things I remember of him are from a couple of years ago. I remember how many things he said made sense when they shouldn’t have. I’d like to believe there hides in him a rebel (not the conventional I- really- want- to- see- you- getting- screwed- over- because- you- didn’t- listen- to- me) but another kind that brings about small changes in how people think until those small changes roll themselves up in a snowball that keeps getting bigger and bigger and certainly more noticeable. He never says much and sometimes when I say a lot, he just looks away; patient but utterly miserable at the same time. But he doesn’t flog me, neither does he snap and tell me to shut- it. He’s this way because he realizes how terrifyingly big the world is and how humbly small we all are.

Nothing would be complete without mentioning another brilliant existence in my life. He’s like a small grass- cutting machine who has realized that being loyal to the grass would benefit only the grass and put rust on his blades. After several years of practicing forgiveness and pardon (and from what I hear; his calm demeanor was sorely tried), he’s just turned himself to an I- am- happy- to- ignore- you- out- of- my- life person. He managed to get rid of the cancer from his life, cancer that was eating its way through him and now hangs around some other bunch- of- friends who hate his old bunch- of- friends and have nothing in common. I don’t know how happy he is or if he is content with his life now because I just stopped calling him. Contrary to what many believe, I didn’t stop being contact because of anything that happened. I just stopped because I realized I was neither a part of his bunch- of- friends nor his new ones and suddenly I didn’t have a spot there anymore. I miss him, terribly. He really is special.

Another one I’ve known for quite some time now also manages to have a whole paragraph written about him. For someone unbelievably nonchalant, he sure does manage to carve out a space for himself in most people he knows. Absolutely brilliant and disarmingly charming (only when he has had enough sleep), he has a huge fan following. I remember him when most girls would lament about him not paying “enough” attention and ALL boys calling him names because apparently their “attentions” weren’t the ones the girls wanted. Coming from where he came from, he did turn out to be beautiful in an unexpected sort of way and managed to sail through the worst of his years. Hordes of people around him will probably never let him fail: even the least of which he doesn’t deserve.

The last person I'm going to mention is this post is the one who made me so predictable for himself. He was everything a girl could ask for while growing up: attentive, smiling, charming, funny, protective and certainly not a pain to look at. He etched the person I am today and I will be forever grateful for what little time we had together. I remember him as clearly as a memory of seconds ago where he’d steal my punch lines and make totally sadistic jokes on them, where he told me in detail how attending an all- girls school was “such a waste” and where he forced a smile while he ate the first ever cookies I baked- on an open fire without any pan. You tug at my heart still and you keep burrowing in my soul as each day passes by. I hope you’re safe and loved wherever you are and finally at peace. May our God rest your beautiful soul in eternal blissfulness.

This Time

2008-08-17T02:05:00.000-07:00

You know what’s really wrong with the 14th of August this time? Everything. I don’t know what everybody is so enthusiastic about. I mean, for fucks sake, have you even read the papers lately or seen the TV, even if the only channel you get is PTV? A nation, divided by as many dividends as one can possible imagine; is going on a rampage of concerts and fire crackers, food festivals and flag- bearing vehicles without having the slightest inclination of what tomorrow is going to bring for us. It’s pathetic! And we, as a group of people living in this part of world, are pathetic. No wonder, nobody takes us seriously. Why should they? We are an unruly mob, have no idea what we want and have become beggars by nature. A morsel from here, leftover from there and we are fuckers and whores for you to use, thank you very much to your great nation with amazing generosity, feel free to use us anytime any time and any way you like. And oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you wink to your media too!

Tomorrow, a bunch of weirdoes with surfer haircuts and ridiculously fitted shirts, studs in their ears and mobiles in their hands are going to be driving up and down the roads of Islamabad, throwing crackers inside other cars, attempting to race in a jam packed traffic zone with music blaring to an ear splitting volume and talking about other cars and the girls in them while their miserable parents will be… yes, miserable at home, thinking when their “mahaan aulad” is going to come back home and if they’re going to be doped or drunk this time. Others, who label themselves as rebels and are actually hair brained, will just sit in their houses, doing nothing of any particular use. Hanging is just too good for the likes of us.

Screw the godamn lawyers; accept the fact that your precious “Iftikhar Chaudhry” is NOT going to be holding his office again and the two bit- grey streaked- coat clad- street lawyers will never have anything better to do than to come on the streets and burn a few tires, sit for a couple of hours infront of the Parliament House and/ or walking alongside “Iftikhar Chaudhry’s” car.

We are; assholes. We shit from our mouths and fart from our noses and we continue to rub up against each other, not realizing that there is something gravely wrong with us. The text books syllabus for the primary and secondary schools is still the same, as was 50 years ago (wait, did we have text books back then?). The “roti, kapra and makaan” slogan is long dragged and very frankly; boring now. If we haven’t realized the growing noises by now, we won’t ever. And that is that. I don’t understand how people are so fiercely blind sighted by their own loyalty that they continue to ELECT the same fuckers who destroyed and then proceeded to RUN AWAY from the very same Pakistan they now claim to serve. I don’t understand how people are stupid and dumb enough to accept an embarrassingly loser candidate as their PM. I mean, he doesn’t even know the angle his head be at when addressing the nation, for the love of God. And not to forget the “my- wife- was- killed- because- of- faulty- security” man who spent years upon years in jail for corruption.

The weird assed Taliban are fucking our lives and screwing with our territory. Guess who’s responsible for that? We not only let them eat and sleep in our houses during the Afghan- Russia War, we made them marry our sons and daughters and let them train our no- brained losers to become suicide bombers. And honestly, who the fuck is “Mullah Omer” to tell us what we should and shouldn’t do? I mean, go and screw your own godamn land and ditto for “Umm e Hasaan” and the likes of her. Include all men who come out during raids masquerading as women, hiding pathetically in “burqas”.

The national sport is hockey. Our team went for the Olympics. It was said at the airport and then duly reported by the media that we shouldn’t really expect a gold medal. I mean, why the hell not? Can’t you even win at the godamn national sport? And speaking of media, yeah okay, lets not.

This is what’s wrong with this 14th of August. This is no time to celebrate. We couldn’t even come up with a nice enough tune of our own “Qaumi Tarana” for fucks sake! Let’s just impeach each other. Yeah, that’s it!

stAndstill

2008-05-22T09:15:00.000-07:00

My life is at a standstill: an actual stopping of time and moment; a frozen bubble where nothing changes. It’s not sad or pathetic or happy; ‘tis just a panorama that entraps people in its scrutiny and then doesn’t let go of them. Sometimes I think this is it: this is the vision I have always craved; one second of absolute clarity. But is it really? I honestly don’t know.

I have absolutely no friends left. There is not a single person on the face of this planet who I can call if I banged my car, was in some serious shit or wanted to talk to when I got dumped. There is also nobody who I can tell if I am happy about a day that went absolutely great, ecstatic about a project that came through or simply nervous about my first day on a new job. Yes, this is what my frozen moment in time is. It’s neither ugly nor beautiful. It’s just there.

Maybe it WAS my fault that from a few hundred people, I chose only a handful for friendship. Maybe, I shouldn’t have chosen in the first place. But then again, who doesn’t? And I certainly didn’t know any better. Turns out, I have to pay my dues too. From that handful, I was close to only a couple. And then one New Year’s eve, I just stopped getting the calls and the late night talking sessions. Keeping my cell switched on just didn’t seem important anymore. I waited, for days and months at end, but there wasn’t anything. Not a beep, not a word. It hit me then: I wasn’t needed anymore, I was being discarded. There were new people with new things to say, nicer talking cohorts with better enthusiasm and infectious laughter. So, I was stashed in a corner. I tried; I did, to get back. But there’s a limit to all one can do. Sacrificing ego is okay, because they’re still your friends but after that, there is nothing else to sacrifice. You can’t just show up a day before my birthday, look at my face and say, “tumhari shakal daikh ker bohat kuch batana chahta hun aur bohat kuch pochna bhi, per ubhi rehnay he do. Phir kabhi” and be gone with it. No, it doesn’t work that way. I waited for you and I truly did. I actually prayed for you to call me. I was tempted to write to you when I went through a disaster, I wrote and then deleted and then wrote again and deleted again. How could you not know when you always knew what I was thinking of? How could you not hear the pain and the desperation in my voice when I asked you to stay for a bit longer? How could you not see the shadows under my eyes or the plea on my lips? How could you not??

As for love, you know, you keep looking for a certain type of person and when you find him, you just stick to him. You never look around, suddenly every man just seems impotent somehow; never the same handsome, never the same charming kind… you turn yourself and your loyalties to him only, you make friends with his friends, start hanging out with them; looking and creating opportunities to be with him as often as possible. You never realize how alone you’re going to be when he goes away, how utterly desolate you’re going to feel when the perfect statue of “godliness” will crash to earth with only a few specks of dust left on your shoes. This is what has happened to yours truly too…

I guess everybody has the last- straw- deal deep down in them. Mine just happened to be crossed. On Sunday, I finally realized that no, this isn’t going to work. I am not a priority, fine! I never wanted to be one. But I’m not the second or the third or even the tenth one. I didn’t make it to the priority list... not by a long shot. And that, hurt. It hurt so bad that it took me three days just to realize that the pain was real and not going away. It made me crash. Words are just words; they will never really convey the feeling one would like them to. But that’s just it. I actually felt ripped. Nothing more, nothing else. It wasn’t agonizing, the pain didn’t tear me apart, but it did leave quite a big gash right where it hurt: the heart and just three fingers above the stomach. I carry on, each day, as I promised myself that I would. But I had also promised myself other things; things that didn’t really work out. I want you to realize that it is you I am writing about. You: who always forgot about everything important, you: who needed his friends to remind him about my birthday, you: who doesn’t call or text unless he wants somebody’s number or has to confirm about somebody’s plan, you: who doesn’t know that while you were happy sitting with your friends in some godamn hill, I was canceling my plan to meet a friend who I hadn’t seen in the last 7 years and now won’t see till god- knows- when. You: the one who then very politely told me that your plans changed and you won’t be able to make it now. I realized that you weren’t going to make it ever. And that whatever I had for you, had to get out; however it could. And don’t think that it won’t. I promise you, one day I’ll pass by you without the slightest hesitation. It’s just not going to be tomorrow or the next week or the next month.

I’ve heard that when you’re having a heart attack, you don’t feel continuous pain; just a sharp shot of pain and you’re through. The heart just gives up; for a sec, or a minute, that is not important. I didn’t get a similar attack, my heart didn’t give up. It simply broke to a tiny million shards that won’t really be glued back the same way. They won’t really beat the same way; they won’t really be mine anymore. You know, he was the person I had actually thought of as “him”. He was it. There was nobody else.

Just like all good things, mine had to come to an end too. I do not complain; for once a friend remarked, “You complain like a rich daddy’s girl whose finger nail broke”. No, I don’t complain anymore, because my finger nail hasn’t broken; this time my heart has. And you don’t care.

Pair Annihilation.

2008-05-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it becomes very difficult not to think of you for you don’t haunt my memories like a jilted lover might, but you live and breathe inside me like a fanatics’ religion. Some gesture, some awkward moment still tugs at my heart, at odd times, usually when I am so busy that I forget even to breathe. And the next moment, I have you, distracting me from the simplest of chores: putting the cap back on a pen, finding my car keys in my bag, brushing my hair, breathing…

It is that simple. I though us women could spin yards and yards of yarn and there we go, you’ve robbed me of that too, and I still feel more of an individual that I ever did.

Love, for things, makes one weak. It is a world of your own, where nothing else exists, nothing else breathes, no life, no soul, no wish for you works. A simple clarity where everything just comes into existence for one blissful second; creates something miraculous and then self destructs. Combustion. How very odd. How very convenient for everybody else. How tragic; for that one pair of opposites that overcome all odds to give birth to mankind. Pair annihilation. Yes, that is what it’s called.

*(

2008-04-17T11:08:00.000-07:00

I admit it: i have lost count of the number of conversations ive had with more than one voice about the hurt and the pain love causes. and yet, each time i seem to wallow in the misery afterward; strange tht it hasn't numbed me against neither the memories, nor the feeling of loss. here's to another one! cheers.

AI: i'll never love again... EVER... i thought i'd be smart and not end up in this shit in the first place... but no, i had to put my head in the lion's mouth... and shit it hurts... and now i know why it's so much better to be watching a triangle than to be fucking playing a role in one

AA: you'll love again. trust me. you'll love again, bt it'll be different then. you'll be smarter and you wont be nearly as kind as you are now. you'll love by charting territories and making plans. the next time, u'll just be mechanical. that's what love does to us. the first time you fall, it chnges everything.

AI: i hate robots and zombies rooj... i don't want to walk dead

AA: you're not dead now. you're feeling hurt and pain. njoy while it lasts. there's only zombi-ism after the numbness. that's what they call, "getting over smbdy"

AI: oh shit

AA: precisely. this pain's preparing you for the ugliness ahead. dont reject it.

AI: don't reject the pain or the ugliness?

AA: the pain. its a blessing. ugliness is the reward for loving.

AI: oh great... have i landed the jackpot... and now i say what juno said best... Ow ow fuckity ow! :( chalo u get ready for work

'I pain for you...'

2008-04-13T12:17:00.000-07:00

He scoffed, raised an eyebrow to the people I was sitting with and said, 'really Arooj, you could've done so much better. Are these the ones you pine for?'

And when I pointed to one and whispered, 'no, it's only that one...', He made the air stop for an eternal second and then quietly patted my hand. 'I pain for you'.

2008-03-28T10:07:00.000-07:00

He was so special that when he became just 'ordinary', my world fell apart.

(no title)

2008-03-02T09:15:00.000-08:00

This time, I do not wish to be brave. I would like to bawl and cry like a baby. I would like to tell him, “you know what? No! No, I can’t do this anymore. I will break if this happens. This time, I want you to take care of me. To put me first. To at least think of me…” But I also know, as do the rest of the people who claim to know me, that I’ll never do this. I’ll never be able to wipe the smile off my face and show him the crack in this façade. It’s like a disease. A malignant tumor that just won’t go away.

Do I like the pain? No, I don’t. Just like I don’t like knowing that’s it’s over even before it actually is. If not this, then how can anything else be perfect? If not you, then how can anybody else claim me? My clothes smell of you :(

Maybe this is being selfish. But I want you for me. I am nobody without you. I can’t even hold a conversation with anybody else. I don’t want to be anywhere without you. I don’t. I just don’t… What is so wrong in that? Why won’t you just let me do this? I am not asking for anything in return. I will never cry infront of you. I won’t make you remember things. I won’t. I won’t ask you to keep promises. I won’t ask you to make any. I won’t ask you to woo me; to buy me candies or flowers, to court me. I won’t ask for anything…

This is the end. I just know it is. It’s like the last flicker of a candle flame. It won’t last. And then I’ll have people coaxing me to socialize; to get out more. They’ll want me to talk to them and when I won’t, they’ll just think me frigid and leave. They’ll assume I don’t trust them enough. But what will I ever tell them? What is there to tell? How can you tell in words what I feel? I couldn’t say them to you; how will I ever be able to tell them?

I am selfish. I want you for me. I want this. This is perfect. Yes, I want perfection for myself. Is that too big for me to ask? Have I not done enough? Have I not paid my debts to everybody? How much more?

I give up. I admit it. I give up.
Just let me have you.
Please.

the Helper's Hand.

2008-02-11T01:59:00.000-08:00

Her neck cramped! For the first time in years; her neck cramped. It seemed as if the knot that had been in her heart had suddenly shifted to her neck; tying, untying… like a serpent constricting and relaxing its body around its prey. Her head bent, like it always had been, her feet walking to the same intention as per habit, her robes swishing lightly at her ankles, her arms bent, folded like locks… her heart in a lock.

It is a humbling experience to need help, to ask for some, especially when you have been on your own for the longest time you can remember. It is a let down, or at least feels like one, by your own body, your very own structure of being.

There was no padding on her feet for the eerily cold floor of stone and rock beneath her. How could this ever compare to the marbles she was always dreaming about? But really, that had ultimately made no particular sense. The world around her was shrinking was maybe that’s just the way she liked. The gentle tapping of the rain drizzling on the solid concrete roof hummed a hymn only few were able to tolerate day in, day out. She was one of them… by choice.

She kept walking, rosary beads dropping rather subconsciously on top of the other, passing through her fingers numbed with the cold and completing a prayer. Nobody protested the way God was being remembered here, nobody thought more or less than required, nobody changed the routine and nobody looked at each other while talking. Such a strange little world it was, that for an outsider, it would look senile; as if people outside this abbey had forgotten that there was another world too, a world that existed even when they had shut it out and pushed it in the darkest corner of their brain. The world existed even then.

Strangely, her feet hurt today. Must have been cold sores. But really, she was so far gone in the abyss of selflessness that it seemed rather inappropriate to even look at the cause of such minor discomfort. Step ahead, walk on, off the stone floor, onto the white sheets; crossing the alley, crossing the chambers. Was that flogging she heard? Quickly shutting her ears to someone’s self disciplinary techniques. After all, hasn’t she gotten her own demons from the past?

When she reached her small chamber; one that had no windows and no light and smelt slightly of water logging, she calmly pushed the beads out of her hand and put them on the side of a wooden table; the only piece of furniture she had. She sat on the hard bed, no mattresses were allowed since they provided comfort to the body (and really, we weren’t created to be comfortable!) and bent towards the floor. Still keeping a tight rein on her curiosity, she religiously avoided looking at her feet and tore a long strip from her hem. The hem of the white robe she always wore, the robe that always swished at her feet, giving her the feeling of air bowing at her ankles, the ankles that supported her feet, the feet that had cold sores and the sores, she was determined to avoid.

Later that night, when she didn’t show up at the dinner table (even after the bell had rung Atleast 5 times), someone was sent to her chamber.

Her head was tilted up, eyes gazing at some invisible speck on the ceiling, arms hung loose, almost as if in the surrender of some pinnacle. Truly the strangest thing in all this, were her eyes. They weren’t dead. They held the gaze, still looking, focused, they hadn’t been overcome with that sheen of death yet. One girl, who didn’t really know the ‘rules’ yet or the ‘disciplinary’ punishment for that matter, said something under her breath. Then almost as an afterthought, she remarked to nobody in particular, “she’s looking for Him. Him; the God. She is looking for the God!”

2008-02-08T08:54:00.000-08:00

I used to wonder how one person could hurt you so much that you'd bleed into various crevices you'd never known existed before. I used to think it would be next to impossible to look for somethng this hard and not find it. I also thought things had a way of working out by themselves and that if you love somebody truly and without a doubt, you won't be disappointed. Guess who was wrong?

2008-01-18T10:56:00.000-08:00

thankyou Z!

compAss

2008-01-06T13:20:00.000-08:00

i have so much going on in my head; i dont know what to write though. its all there, clear as the first ray of light and jumbled as it follows from the drops... tear drops, drops that fall to the ground, go un noticed... drops tht will be shed again and again till time decides to stop, or till the eyes shut.

did i ever say i write coherently? i dunno, lol. although, at times, i have been accused of morbid- writing.

neway, things are like ghosts. people are like ghosts. its like ive lost the meaning of some thing. "lost my compass"- i dont know. i wish life wasnt so cruel. it is hard, i know. its tough, ive learnt. i jst wish it wasnt so cruel. snapping the dreams in two in jst a sec... dreams tht took forever to nurture... dreams tht really were innocent... dreams of four girls; girls who never thot their spirits wud be broken to such an extent, their minds numb to the limit. girls, who thot, this is it! and married their guys. stupid girls.

The Lord of Us Beings.

2008-01-02T10:09:00.000-08:00

The lord tht never forgives, but forgets? The lord that will never truly show who's side it's on? The lord that takes and gives only to take it again?

Yes, tht lord of urs. Yes, tht mortal lord of all of us.

I wonder wht it'll actually take for us to see the immortal realities of our times. the Immortal Lord; the Lord of Us. The Lord.

Rheme

2007-12-26T05:11:00.000-08:00

Happiness is nt addictive maybe cuz it never lasts long enough to become a drug. It jst swishes past us, like a moment of magic, a second of absolute silence.; like a prism that makes one ray into a rainbow but then falls back onto the same ray and becomes an ordinary piece of glass...

-Arooj Akbar

Rush me

2007-12-23T08:41:00.000-08:00

I can put you in my pocket and walk with you. Every mile or so, i'll jst pat on it and reassure myself: u're there, u'll be there. That's how complex my love is.

I can let you be on my wrist , like the dial of my watch, I know u're there. Even though it'll be weighty but it won't hurt. This is how submissive I want myself to be.

You can sleep with your hand on my neck throughout the night. I might not be able to breathe, but i'll share the night with myself for the rest of my life.

You asked me why?
Find your answer.

Why can you not see? Why must I say it? Why must it be obvious to all. Why can we not pretend to be jst like ordinary people; pretend that it can all work out. Don't let me be rational. Don't let me make practical decisions.

Rush me.

yAy!

2007-12-21T11:28:00.000-08:00

I feel like dancing. I know smthng wonderful's abt to happen. I have tht feeling in the pit of my stomach. About time, by the way. I was getting tired of always knowing how worse a bad situation was abt to get :D

My toes are curled. Hehee. I feel giddy AND fifteen again; the first time i had that very famous crush tht drove ALL my friends crazy. It's funny how a small smile can creep up ur face when u know how dumb and stupid you acted infront of that 'particular' boy. There's another boy. I really like him... a lot. He doesn't know. I don't have the *whatever* to tell him. But i honestly like him.

Can u please pray?

the End

2007-12-14T05:36:00.000-08:00

I feel nauseated by the turn of events in my life right now. The way each thing has unfolded, leading, as if surreptitiously, towards one single purpose: the crushing of all hopes. I can’t help but seem to think, why me? I never tried to be special or extra ordinary. I just wanted to do things to make other people happy and yet every time, I have managed to fail miserably. As each night passes by, silent tears wet my pillow and as I sleep on that stained pillow, I realize how I manage to kill myself a little more today, with each tear a small part of my soul is washed away; never to come back.

I imagine myself a few years back… I was never happy but I was also never this miserable. My hopes never really were to walk on the moon, but they were not this crest fallen either. I was dumbfounded by miracles then, now I don’t remember the meaning of one. I have lost; and lost so majestically that it’s spectacular to behold.

There was a time when like all, I used to think that someday tears will have to dry and that no more will flow… not because they did not have any capacity to drain out, but because there will be no more left. And then again, I was wrong. I have lost count of the number of things I have cried upon, the number of times I have been forced to reduce myself to just-a-woman and hide in the shadows.

I have grown weak of this war and weary of the circumstances. I do not wish to entertain whoever-is-playing-games-and-laughing-hysterically anymore. I do not wish to live this life even for a second more. I do not know what things are held on which basis, but all I really know is that I am tired of this war. I fight within myself to contain my anger. I kill myself so that no bloodshed occurs. And here I am, rewarded with just-another-night-of-tears-on-the-pillow.

I have taken a decision tonight, ending my life once and for all. That lavish life, with enough money to buy the love and the laughter I have always wanted, I have strangled it today. By my own hands. It’s worse than killing your own child; because you are killing yourself. It’s sinful, but if God can’t help me in this, I doubt He’s going to find the heart to punish me either.

As today I end my life, as I had hoped it would be, I end myself. The woman they all thought they knew; is dying tonight and none of them have the slightest idea. Each time my heart broke, I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t let anybody know. And just like that, nobody will know of this. I do not want pity. I do not absolution from people. I don’t really care at this point.

But I really am going to miss this, I had such fondness for this mind and this soul. I had such hopes. I have myself. And now, it’s the beginning from a scratch. New people, new places, new face. Not a single shadow of my past will follow me this time. The chapter named, “arooj” is henceforth, closed.

fAilure

2007-10-26T02:46:00.000-07:00

I feel at a loss for words. My dad thinks it’s my fault that I'm this sick. My mother is acting as if I'm about to die or something. I don’t know what to feel. At some very basic level in my heart, I'm… relieved. It has finally happened. I'm glad its going to be over soon. I don’t want to live in this entity anymore with this pathetic excuse of an existence. I'm tired to playing by the rules and hurting everybody I love so much if I don’t. Maybe that is the problem. I'm hurting people. But really, the problem is that I love people who don’t love me back. Is that bad? Is that sad? Yes, it is. Very very sad. Almost as sad as not being able to scream when a toe nail comes off. Maybe more so. Because, even a whimper is not allowed.

But is this the best way to go to the end? I don’t know. Seems befitting somehow. A being of words dying because her mind refused to work. Almost symbolic. Why cant it be over sooner? Is this the price one pays for asking questions from God? Is there no freedom? Will there be none forever?

The condition is pathetic. My body refuses to work towards health. I'm hollow from inside, almost every organ acting on its own, running, walking, striving to reach the end before the other. My brain working overtime. Its like a war going on inside me and nobody’s winning. I'm still the same from the outside. I even manage to smile and be polite. I crack jokes too. I cracked a couple with my doctor when he was looking at my MRI results. I couldn’t lee him see that I knew what was in those scans. With or without the contrast. What difference would it make? He seemed sad. Which made me laugh harder at my own jokes because I couldn’t let him see me crying. Why would I cry? I wanted this for so long…

I have a friend who says that I get all the diseases with the fancy names. He says that’s typical of a rich- daddy’s girl. Obviously, we both pretend that he’s joking. We laugh at the end of all- such- conversations. Obviously, he’s not pretending. Obviously, the laugh is not genuine.

I don’t know what to write anymore. I guess I will have a couple of regrets when it all ends. I wish I could have been a better daughter. I wish I could’ve gotten that gold medal my daddy always wanted me to get. I wish I could’ve gotten at least half an ounce of love from the only person I’ve loved for the past 5 years. I wish I could’ve told him that I loved him.

But nothing matters at the end. I know this because I truly am, at the very end. I know exactly how it feels, where it hurts, where it doesn’t. I know what numb pain stabs like. I know. I know the guilt I face each day. I wish the treatment wasn’t this expensive. I wish my parents would let that fragment of hope go; let me go. I wish our lunch time conversations hadn’t come to an uncomfortable silent end. I wish I wasn’t born.

What good it is to be born and end this way?

melted crAyons

2007-10-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

Nobody knew what being truly in love meant. They all fantasized about experiencing it. They would tell each other, ask from everybody they came across and sometimes be bold enough to even proclaim about the greatest love they had lost to some very distasteful occurrence like death or a commitment to another (equally repugnant, I assure you). Every time the winds would blow, they would each look at one another and sigh; a sigh of extreme aggravation, exaggerated to the limits of sanity. Then ‘looks’ would be cast heavenward, as if waking God from a slumber of a thousand years, eyes darting from one fluffy cloud to another, visions searching desperately of a single ‘sign’ of hope to be in this Great Love that people used to talk about. The kind that makes stories, the kind that doesn’t think of petty issues like income or luxury, the kind that locked a many behind the bars for infinitum; while their tales were hushed but still told outside; the kind, that actually was love.

And so, one fluff- cloudy day, while everybody was trying to invoke something in their respective gods with sad, gloomy, and desperate and many another looks, someone bumped into one of them: another being from another planet, a look- alike but a world apart. As dainty as the stem of a wine glass and equally desirable, the collision was nonetheless distracting, if not near- fatal. The heads turned, they eyes looked a little below the skies and found the girl looking up too.

“What in the world are you looking at?”
“For love, off course! What else you silly being?!... ”
“Searching for love?…” A small giggle “… but why must you look for love in the skies?”
“Well then, where else missy?”
“It’s almost always right in front of you, not in the skies at least. Stop bothering the Lord! He has other people to attend to!”

For the first time in ages, all minds in all the brains collected there in all those heads calculated something in her voice. As if (do they dare hope?) she actually knew what she was talking about! But that can’t be. That just can’t be! The small smile was almost mocking, bordering on the edge of sweetness, as if she knew better than all of those minds in all of those heads. Is it possible that this small slip of a girl knows what true love is? Had she actually been in it? Better yet, was she in true love right now??! Almost dead with the temptation, somebody croaked in the smallest of voices,

“Little girl, do you have any idea what you’re hinting at?”
“Hinting at? Oh, but, I know! I know all there is to know about a true love…” The head got raised a little higher, the stance became haughty.
“Then you must tell us at once!”
“Tell you what old man?” Old man? “I just told you. Love is almost always at your step, scared of its own shadow, scared that you will never look at it and step over it in some great hurry”.
“Then where must we look for it?”
Irritated! “IN YOUR FEET!”
“BUT IT”S NOT THERE” same tone!

“You don’t have the eyes to see”
“Show us then!”

“True love is like a breeze, a warm soft breeze that will relax you, make you want more…
True love is like an acid rain, you’ll want to run for cover, there will be no shelter and your skin will get blisters…
It’ll make your heart swell till you can take it no more.”

“Oh?!”

“Yes! I have experienced it. It is truly beautiful.”

“But, then, where is he?”

“At work”

“And he sent you here alone?”

“Sure! He’ll be back in a few months time.”

“How long has been gone?”

“A few months”

“Why did he not take you with him?”

“Silly! What would I do with him over there? I can stay here and pretty myself till he comes back. We do have a Happy- Ever- After after all...”

“Oh” A few snickers

Haughtiness returns

Commotion in the background, a few children running after a poor dog. Suddenly one child looks at the small crowd gathered around something. LOOK! They might be giving candy to people. All run! Small feet shuffle quickly, trying to do justice to the action and the intention. They all gather around the “tall” people, failing to get a look, they crawl between the legs.

“Oh!” one child exclaims disappointedly, “no candy”. They are just talking to the crazy woman.

“Yeah? My mother tells me to stay away from her. She’s always mumbling something we never understand.”

“Lets go then.”

“Lets go!”

inside the Dungeons

2007-10-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

I dont know where I am anymore. It's a dark and misty place, a place where shadows sleep, memories weep and heart breaks many times over. The walls are soo tall that no one can climb to the top and each has a window in it. But the windows have long been sealed to keep away from God- knows- what- harm. The harm has already been done. The body has been violated, the soul etched with an impurity, the heart injected with blackness. The shadows grow deep, the light fades away. My misty eyes, nobody sees. My broken heart, nobody knows...

I hear somebody laughing. It echoes, bouncing off the walls repeatedly, each time a little fuzzier, a little slow. I strain forward, trying desperately to recognize the source. The voice is no longer there. It was, but, a memory. My heart bleeds a little more. He still doesnt seem to know. My purity stinks from the wretchedness. I roll in self- disgust, I loathe myself. So weak? Oh i was not born like this. Desperate for one look, one touch from the right person... and yet being raped by nameless, faceless people all around me.

A small paper flies past me. Instict urges me to catch it. I look at the fading handwriting. My heart leaps for a moment and quitens immediately. It was a long time ago. Another rape story. Only this time, it was no rape. It was self- mutilation. There is a number on the paper, written in lead pencil. Memories stab me yet again. "I'll never be away, I promise. Call this number whenever you want to..." I had never found the strength to keep a steady voice and dial those digits. I had cried alone so many times that it had become a habbit, one that actually felt like a part of me, an essential, a necessity...

The paper crumbles in my hand and I let go. The faint breeze takes it to the roof, slaps it a couple of times as if demanding some sacrifice and upon receiving the dues, it flies it over the top, to freedom. My dues?, I scream. No voice comes out of me. I slump back.

My life is over somehow. I don't need, i don't feel. I don't care. I don't want to. My body commits sins my soul has no control over. My mind makes plans my heart no longer wished to entertain. I fall and don't even try to get up again. I just push the small stones away and lie down, expecting another fall to come soon.

I don't want bigger things in life.

I don't want small things either. Once, a long time ago, I had truly wanted him.

Dear God, I had loved him so...

pAwn in The Game...

2007-10-12T13:32:00.000-07:00

If he is not mine, then why do i hurt so? why does it pain so? i dont want this nemore. my screams reach to nowhere, my sighs never get out of my lips. i cant even breathe, such is the despair. no no no. i dont want this, take this away from me. let me live. let me breathe in freedom of my own choice. for one, just for one godamn blasted second, lissen to me. whoever is up there, whoever is supposed to help the world out. i am urs. u created me, then why do u forsake me? why do you not lissen? why cant i know what u want for me? you who everybody says are the grand schemer, tale me out of ur game. im tired of being a pawn in this game. i dont want this nemore. why cant i be normal? just be normal. how many times shd i beg and bow? how much shd i offer? is this not enuf? i have nothng more. why not? WHY NOT??? if not him, then who?

rAbba

2007-10-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

Rabba...

A Thousand Words

2007-10-09T12:39:00.000-07:00

An old gilded frame, rustic, hardly any paint left on it sits subtly on the mantle, partially hidden by the flower vase *old dried flowers which are being watered enough to cause a miniature tsunami in dire hopes of survival* Two pictures; one on top of the other. The top one is transparent: it shows off the one underneath to almost perfection… almost. It does make it a little blurry, a little rough around the edges. But it also protects without over shadowing it. In plain view, the picture on the top doesn’t seem to have much importance, other than to faze out whatever’s underneath. The eye moves over it a little too quickly, dismissing it in a hurry, eager to see what lies beneath it. Nobody detects the faint water marks *tears?!?* On it, or the crease lines *folding unfolding repeatedly?* everybody is in a hurry. Everybody is an ass.

The picture underneath seems like such a mystery. Everybody just HAS to see it. Remove the top one from the frame. Just a peek. It has to be done, curiosity has to be satisfied. Look from the back of the frame, maybe a shadow will prove a little helpful…

Nobody can make out the correct image, assumptions; they are all assumptions. Some try to coax the top one aside; others will shamelessly push it away. Suddenly the old frame is the centre of attention. Someone accidentally tears a part of the old picture. The torn piece flies in the air, an insignificant little detail… discrete coughs and the person resumes the “fine” work in progress… and the top picture is finally slid out of the frame, a couple of other pieces fly in the air, go near the fire place and well, burn. The picture is carelessly put on the rustic table. The water marks on it are somehow clearer now. Tears? How would they know?

Everybody seems to gather a little closer around it. They all want to know what the picture says to them, a thousand words? What if it’s a million?...

A collective sigh; all straighten their backs. Someone coughs, others look to the floor. Are they ashamed? Someone picks up the old picture and tries to slide it back in the frame. It won’t go in. impatience combined with the shame forces the picture in… and tears it right down the middle. They all look embarrassed, here and there their glances dart. A man picks up the frame and resignedly puts it back on the mantle… with the other picture still inside it; the white colored plain paper… the paper that has no image is now in the frame.

They all start talking again. The old picture lies under their shuffling feet. It was of a small boy running after a dog on a sandy beach while a woman of considerable years smiles at him. It had tears on it. It had been folded and unfolded uncountable times before being put in the frame… the same frame which now supported nothing.

I cArry your heart with me

2007-08-27T06:08:00.000-07:00

I carry your heart with me

I carry it in my heart

I am never without it

Anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling

I fear

no fate

For you are my fate, my sweet

I want no world

For beautiful you are my world, my true

And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows

Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

And the sky of the sky of a tree called life;

which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide

And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart...

I carry it in my heart

*E.E.Cummings

:((

2007-08-10T04:59:00.000-07:00

After ages, I feel myself breaking apart, torn from all ends, rough smooth edges bruising my soul, drawing blood. I dont know wht happened :( I tried sooo hard tht I just knew tht I'd be okay. That feeling inside, tht tells you wen ure wrong or right. I was right. Wasnt I? I had promised myself. I had told myself over and over again not to go down tht path. Wasnt I the one who solved everybody's issues? Was I?

I've tried everythng. I've tried being funny, I've tried to be sensible, I've acted like a kid too and I started liking everythng u liked, I tried. I tried to be myself. Nothing works out. And I kept myself busy. Working working working. And studying. But u dont fade away. Like a jolt, u cum back. U just come back. I just cant see you going away. I cant. And yet, I have to...

Questions and questions and questions. I know all the answers. I know. I swear i do. But I just don't wanna realize them. Breaking away is never impossible. It just hurts. And I know pain comes in all forms. But dear God, im so scared of getting hurt like this again. Please. Anythng. Ill offer anythng. Im begging you...

"your choice, it's simple her or me. And I'm sure she's really great . . . but i love you in a really really big pretend to like your music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold radio over my head outside your window . . . so pick me, choose me, love me."

Please. Please...

Please Pick me.

Broken- Lifehouse

2007-08-09T03:53:00.000-07:00

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight

Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time

I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts

I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing

With a broken heart that's still beating

In the pain there is healing

In your name I find meaning

So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on

I'm barely holdin' on to you

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head

I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead

I still see your reflection inside of my eyes

That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing

with a broken heart that's still beating

In the pain there is healing

In your name I find meaning

So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on

I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm hangin' on another day

Just to see what you will throw my way

And I'm hanging on to the words you say

You said that I will be ok

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone

I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home

i hAte you!

2007-08-05T10:11:00.000-07:00

Lissen, if ure reading this, i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.

The World I know- Collective Soul

2007-08-05T01:55:00.000-07:00

Has our conscience shown?

Has the sweet breeze blown?

Has all the kindness gone?

Hope still lingers on.

I drink myself of newfound pity

Sitting alone in New York City

And I don't know why.

Are we listening?

Hymns of offering.

Have we eyes to see?

Love is gathering.

All the words that I've been reading

Have now started the act of bleeding

Into one.

So I walk up on high

And I step to the edge

To see my world below.

And I laugh at myself

While the tears roll down.

'Cause it's the world I know.

It's the world I know.

Nishaan- Call :)

2007-07-30T01:45:00.000-07:00

KUCH NAHEEN KHAYAL HAI

DONON TARAF KAUN HAI

MEIN BHEE AUR TUM BHEE NAHEEN

JALTEY HOYE DIYE KAU AANSOO CHAHIYE

RAATON KAU BHEE ZUBAAN CHAHIYE

HAAN FASLEY NAHEEN

DOORIYAAN SIMAT-TEE NAHEEN

RAASTEY HON GAI AGAR

YEH FAASLEY KAM NA HON

APNA AKS BHEE NAHEEN

AUR YEHI HAI ZINDAGI

KUCH NAHEEN KHAYAL HAI

DONON TARAF KAUN HAI

JISM BHEE AUR JAAN BHEE NAHEEN

RAGHON KAI ANDHERON KAU INSAAF CHAHIYE

RANJISH-E-KHOON KAU BHEE MAKAAN CHAHIYE

HAAN FASLEY NAHEEN

DOORIYAAN SIMAT-TEE NAHEEN

RAASTEY HON GAI AGAR

YEH FAASLEY KAM NA HON

APNA AKS BHEE NAHEEN

AUR YEHI HAI ZINDAGI

SAYE YAHAN

WOH RAASTEY HAIN KAHAN

DHOONDOON KAHAN

MEIN APNA NISHAAN

RAASTEY HON GAI AGAR

YEH FAASLEY KAM NA HON

APNA AKS BHEE NAHEEN

AUR YEHI HAI ZINDAGI

Hamlet- the Prince

2007-07-26T05:04:00.000-07:00

"If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story.

The rest is silence."

- William Shakespeare, Hamlet 5.2

drugged

2007-07-15T10:18:00.000-07:00

The road to healing lies yonder side, but really, why make the journey when pain is a bliss at times...

:(

2007-07-08T05:47:00.000-07:00

A small paper flies past me. Instict urges me to catch it. I look at the fading handwriting. My heart leaps for a moment and quitens immediately. It was a long time ago. Another rape story. Only this time, it was no rape. It was self- mutilation. There is a number on the paper, written in lead pencil. Memories stab me yet again. "I'll never be away, I promise. Call this number whenever you want to..." I had never found the strength to keep a steady voice and dial those digits. I had cried alone so many times that it had become a habbit, one that actually felt like a part of me, an essential, a necessity...

The paper crumbles in my hand and I let go. The faint breeze takes it to the roof, slaps it a couple of times as if demanding some sacrifice and upon receiving the dues, it flies it over the top, to freedom. My dues?, I scream. No voice comes out of me. I slump back.

I don't want bigger things in life. I don't want small things either. Once, a long time ago, I had truly wanted him.

Dear God, I had loved him so...

The Facewash Story *)

2007-07-02T06:20:00.000-07:00

The Facewash Story is very very important. It is about many things, but mainly The Facewash. yes, it features The Facewash in leading role and yes, it is not to be taken lightly. For after all, it is: The Facewash...

It all started 5 years back. Yours truly decided it had indeed been a very long time since she got her brains screwed, mind fucked and life shat upon. Yours truly then developed a crush... It was supposed to be light, flirty and for funy *and other such related* activities. It turned out to be painful, responsible for memory fuckups and very very criminal, to say the very least. It was then decided, by yours truly's friends *zahir hay!* that it had gone on long enough and instant remedies were in order. Those remedies turned out to be nauseating: (and i quote)

"Ooooh!! Look there is a nice boy. Why dont u develop a liking for him?" Why dont you just jump into a gutter!

"Hey! Long timw. How have u bin? Met my friend? She's..." Yeah, she's a retard and needs special attention, which is why I'M introducing HER

"Lets go to this party ive heard about. Lots of nice guys there" Hint hint: u need to like somebody else too!

"Did you know its criminal to be attached to one person only?? Date others, explore your options..." Leave the poor guy alone, u psycho killer!

Anyway, as much as they tried *and i applaud their valiant efforts* i just didnt budge. If he walked at my right, i was told to look at the left side. If he took two spoons of sugar, i was told to just quit the damn tea! But offcourse, i didnt! Why would i? It was a match made in heaven. So what if he didnt know... and then came the final threat:

Im soo telling him arooj. Acha hay, sari umer baat nahi karay ga to khud he theek ho jao gi!

What happened afterwards is in itself another long long tale, and i shall narrate it in one of those cold winter nights when u'll be able to sit by the winter and munch on peanuts

To cut a long story short, i never did tell him and till today, it remains like a star plus ka drama when the *not so leading* girl nurtures this huge crush *and whatever other feelings* towards her friend *who continues to date other women right infront of her*. And so it went on: the calls, the counselling sessions my friends gave me, the gifts on any occassion i could think of, the talk- and- drink sessions and many more. My crush turned cold, was reborn, murdered, revived, beaten to near death, turned numb and finally went to be a mere "detachment" *which is these days

During all this time, i graduated and started working. But it just wasnt enough *as my blog readers bear witness to my tantrums of he doesnt love me and im going to kill him if he goes out with sumbody again! It was, therefore, in atleast HIS best interest that i kept myself even busier. So, instead of working one job, i started working at two places. Earned, quite well (if i may say so myself) and spent all my money within the first 6 months. Then, horror of all horrors, i went broke!!

When people tell you that being poor is a curse, they sure as hell know what they are talking about! Its a godamn curse and u truly wish to die. Truly. I had no money, i couldnt hang out, i could shop and above all, my heart was broken very very bad. And after a great many months had i actually felt that sharp stab of pain that recurs and recurs again. And so, i was sad.

Then, one day, amma got me a few "goodies" or a "gift pack" as she cheesily called it. It had a shampoo and a deo, a soap and a scent and our leading character: The Facewash!

Lying oh-so-very-innocently in that bag, it screamed out the Johnson's Gently Exfoliating Facial Wash tag and a apurt of gentle violet and peach seemed to be coming out from the Soap Free proclamation.

Now dont get me wrong. Like most females, my high isnt a pair of Manolo Blahniks or an L.V. I get turned on by scents and facewashes and flowery girly- smelly shampoos and hence the name: goody bag.

So, the very next time i wanted to wash my face *which was rather early in the morning, but i was too damn excited to use the new facewash*, i went to the loo, eyes half closed (in a vain effort to retain whatever sleep i could in my eyes), brushed my teeth and splashed some cold *very cold, infact* water on my face. Next: The Facewash! As i rubbed it in my palms and began to lather my face, I HAD A FUCKING HEART ATTACK!

WTF!!! Yours truly's eyes remained shut, the hands on yours truly's face and yours truly's breathing became non existant! Now how the fuck did he come in my washroom???

Exactly! He hadnt! The fucking Facewash smelt like him. I can swear upon God. It did! It smelt like him! And as i stood there frozen, i realized i may have a way out of my misery...

Im a sniffer and a snuffer now :D

The Final Bite

2007-07-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

The Mouth worked itself into taking another bite. Just the prospect of sinking teeth into the tender warm flesh was an immediate high. Nerve endings were sensitized to the max, ready to feel the exact moment when the meat would be punctured by just the teeth endings and the smooth even un-describable sensation would follow. That bitter sweet aroma of blood- was- pumping- in- it- once, the probability of life coursing through the tiny veins crisscrossing the muscle and the prospect of sheer rawness was almost too much to bear. So the Mouth drove towards the goal and sank the tiny dagger- like teeth into the meat. The scream that arose was deafening to the already- sharpened feelings, it nearly tore through the eardrums and almost broke the spell. Almost. The grip slackened, for just a nano second till the control was once again established and the teeth sank deeper and deeper, till just a very sad, pathetic whimper was left.

The process of chewing was itself a huge turn on. The flesh was soft and sweet, nearly rubbery, but just to the right tilt. It felt like a chewing gum at first, with the sensation of the Mouth being too- full and not enough breathing space left. The tongue felt swollen. The small taste buds suffocated. Surprisingly, there was hardly any taste of blood in the bite. The nose remembered the smell from the first bite only, and now the muscle fat seemed to dissolve in the Mouth, melting on the gums, lubricating the lips, tantalizing the taste buds and numbing the mind. One could almost relate it to para- jumping. Almost. This was much better.

Chew chew chew. The Mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. Chew chew chew. An attempt to swallow was rejected by the trachea, so chew chew chew a little more. Oh what freshness the Mouth experienced, tender and crisp at the same instant, warm and deathly cold at the same time. Swallow. One look at the remaining meat and the Mouth moved to take another bite. This time the scream that rose was tired, as if everything had given up on the current state of things, as if the last door to release had just been discovered booby trapped. Oh how many of us have felt the exact same way?

The third bite was the worst. The eye had just seen the tiny morsel on the bone, peeping through the skin. Skin was such a waste of nutrients. One could almost eat it if not for the tasteless ness. Almost. One never did; skin was always stretched off first, as if making it kosher. That was the first step towards thankfulness. After all, much was there to be thankful for. All praise to the Mighty. All praise to the Miracle. All praise to the constant availability. All praise to the masochistic tendencies. All praise to himself and nobody and nothing else.

Yes, the third bite. The Mouth had almost forgotten. Almost. Not quite. The tiny morsel stuck unfailingly to the bone; looked enticing to the eye. As the Mouth bent to tear the flesh away from the bone, the teeth could almost taste the crumb as it rolled between the 32 of them, the tongue could nearly feel it lolling on it and the throat almost ached to swallow the final bit. The Mouth bit, the teeth sunk and the tongue flicked, and with the pair of hands restraining the body down, the Mouth snatched the bit away, into the cave and under the tiny saws. The bone looked vain, shiny and too white as the body jerked and silenced; strangely at peace. Finally.

wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

2007-05-10T16:55:00.000-07:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

my 23rd.

2007-05-05T11:44:00.000-07:00

people ask me. why i never published nethng abt my 23rd birthday. yes, i have turned 23. no, im not sad or depressed. yes, it wasnt horrible. no, i wasnt too disppointed. no, i didnt have any surprise birthday treats. yes, i had told many off myself. yes, i like it quiet and no, im not suicidal. here! wrote all about it. happy?

Let the games begin!

2007-04-22T11:36:00.000-07:00

I realized today tht its a whole new ball game now. I dont connect to him, i hardly feel like initiatiating a simple sentence-conversation with him and just to make matters worse, I'm fine :D hahahaha! But i WILL make him regret every single tear Ive shed and I WILL make him pay for those little jolts of hurt tht pass my heart every minute or so. I will. And u know why?

Because i truly did love him.

cessAtion

2007-04-19T10:06:00.000-07:00

my mind seems tireless whence making plans. u know, plans? not the dreaming plans, but real life practical plans. each nite, the fan launches apparently a very successful attack on me. my hair flies! its horrible. one strand, then two then a few more are launched in the air thanks to the fan, thn mr gravity pulls them back *and frankly, since they dont have any mentionable spirit*, they fall... right on my face, my nose, my eyes... its irritating as hell. tht is when the plans kick in. each morning is s'pposed to be wonderful. morning bring sleepy time for me. while my hair tries to fly over and over again, and the sparrows in my AC start choo- chooing, i close my eyes and fall asleep.

my last thots are of you. u must be thinking of waking up now, hating to go to univ as always, and in ur mind, ull be thinking of ideas and making justifications for not going. maybe if u stayed home today, u can work on tht assignment pending from a fortnight. maybe if u dont go to skool tday, ull help out with the house work, or meet up with a long lost friend... and ull still be thinking of ways to avoid the univ while u brush ur teeth and shower...

and my eyes wud be closing with each thot of you, usually trying to suppress a smile while tht expression on ur face makes its entrance known in my memory.

will u call today? no. will you meet up this weekend? hardly. wht life is this? i dont know. will i ever truly know? im not sure i want to. will this ever be over? dont know.

in all these dont knows, i just know one thing: i dont want to wake up every morning from my slumber with a tear at the corner of my eye and a haunting expression which makes my mother's forehead crinkle with concern.

my friend made me answer a bunch a questions and concluded: oh, so u love him?!

i dont know.

Aina saaz

2007-04-15T11:37:00.000-07:00

keh shikasta ho to aziz tar hai nigha-e-aina saaz mein

-Allama Muhammad Iqbal

The-boy-by-the-window

2007-04-05T11:08:00.000-07:00

The-boy-by-the-window had grown so much since the time he was coined there. the street vendors all recognized him. but, nobody really passed a smile. it wasnt him, it was the mordancy of those streets, those mean eyes and those sharp tongues. the paan walah, who had this habit of spitting in every customer's paan. the kid playing with the football which eventually almost always ended in the small puddle by the street lamp. the puddle had grown some strange green moss and the ball would now come out slimy, grimy and very much in need of a "safe-guard advert". there were two pocket-thieves too. he watched them picking pockets every day, the same rotuine of them putting their hands in smbdy's pocket whilst displaying false arms on the outside of their cloaks, and the long run afterwards. he never told on them. there were the ants too: those small unselfish creatures toiling day and night; seemingly on an endless journey, going all around his window pane, one after the other, disapperaing somewhere in a cavity in the ceiling. more than once, he thought why they never fell on the floor.

somewhere in all this daily activity, his little heart beat constantly. to the rhythm of the street. the breath came in variations too. swishy, whilst the pickpockets ran. giggly wen the paan walah spat, slow and painful wen the ball fell in the puddle. short fascinated gasps came out amid the ant-march.

The-boy-by-the-window had grown by the window in the water-leaked wall *tht smelt strangely of cigarette smoke* on top of the street tht buzzed with life *like small flies buzzed over his rooh- afza* in a town where nobody insinuated sleep *just like he wanted his perfect world to be*. This world was strange to none. everybody he knew had grown up in this street. there was no other world than the one he saw everyday; hour after hour, even in his dreams, where he would walk down the same boulevard, move with the same pickpockets, learning to pick pockets offcourse, see the same paan walah and play with the boy-with-the-football.

Tht, however, was unlikely.

2007-04-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

NO!

Fuss & Clutter

2007-04-02T21:25:00.000-07:00

I realize how selfishly ive spent my life.
I also realize just how unimportant ive become. like a useless gadget. the only difference is that i havent been discarded... yet.

I realize that tears just dont always come when you want them to. i understand the frustration when tht happens and i also realize how hard we try for just a few tears.

I realize how unfortunate some of us are: winning where it doesnt matter *no matter how many people are there to witness it* and losing where it matters the most *even in the absence of observers*.
I also realize, with a little sadness, that most of us dont even know what we've lost when we lose it.

I realize how selflessly ive loved. i also realize how desperate i wouldve always come accross to the people ive loved. i also realize tht i usually hope against hope and tht's a fault i try valiantly to oversee... but cant.

I realize we may swing from being agnostics to atheists, but in our younger yrs, we dont always think straight. I also realize that right now, im also 22 :)

I realize many of us will never know what true and complete ecstasy is. this makes me very very unhappy.

I realize how the word: "hurt" is not nearly enough when a heart breaks and i also realize that it breaks several times and no matter on how many occasions it breaks and due to whatever reasons, the pain never lessens and you never ecome accustomed to it.

I realize, with considerable pain, that I-Like-You will never equate to I-Love-You.
From this, ive realized that no matter what everyone *especially the maulvis* say, some prayers DO go unanswered for whatever reason, regardless of it being good or bad.

I realize that sometimes even universal truths are lies. if u dont look great, you should be ready for the worst in all.

I've also realized tht if ure calm, serene and aristocratic from outside, people will go an extra mile to make you feel at home and fir right in. this tells me how important it is to be born at the right place to the right people, as if this too, is our responsibility.

I've realized tht my hands and feet will never be pretty or even close to tht.

I've also realized tht i'd want to die of a brain disease than a heart related one *it would be awfully sad to be let down by one's own heart*

I've realized tht yellow lights on the traffic signals serve no purpose at all and tht probably more people die on the zebra crossings than on Mount Everest.

I've realized tht thnigs can NEVER be "prettier", but canb ALWAYS turn worse. i dont know the reason for tht.

I've realized tht no poison works as thoroughly and as effectively as memories.

I've realized tht endings are never perfect and hardly any will be happy ones. it is, therefore, agreed uopn tht providing children with fairy tales is an unspeakable act of cruelty.

I've realized tht money does make the world go around, but it really cant buy love or happiness. ive tried...

I've realized the worse fate is to be numb and still hurt. the occassional stabs of a sharpo pain in your chest are painful reminders

I've realized tht cats can tell when u want them to shut up and only purr at your babblings.

I've realized how blissful it is to be drunk or stoned. subsequently everyone who says chocolate and ice cream cure all are fat and pimply with no concerns about either their obesity or their pimples. therefore, theory rejected!

I've realized tht ill never be good enough for either of my parents. ill never be "docile" enough or "homely" enough and off all the people, their's was the love ive ached for most.

I've realized everytime i tried to pray for myself, i didnt know wht to ask for.

I've realized how grotesque, hideous, blemished and hollowed out i am. i feel touched and very very ugly. this feeling, is not "just a phase" of my life.

I've realized people who laught the most, cry the hardest and nobody really knows this. we are, consciously, oblivious to misery, especially if not ours.

I've realized tht it positively sucks when people dont know wht your favourite color or food is when you even know how much sugar they take in their damn tea/coffee.

I've realized tht the ultimate death of the soul is when you apprehend that your dreams will never be envisioned since they were too broken.

I've realized that if pain wasnt an inherent part of it, we would never adhere to religion.
I've also realized most people "serving" God equate compromise to happiness. what God would want tht?

I've realized that "beautiful" and "pretty" will be never be justified antonyms to "hideous" and "grotesque".

I've realized tht the best things in our life never last more than 3 minutes flat: prayer, birthday wish, declaration of love, poignant moments, icecream in summers, genuine smile, orgasm, hugs, tht Look, apple chewing gum and a sunset.

I've realized there are no such things as "levels of love" and "preferences wrt importance"

I've realized tht a woman's instincts and a man's logic are never to be messed with.

I've realized tht if u arnt afraid, u aint in love.

I've realized tht no matter how many times i try, ill always loathe half- boiled eggs, sushi, pointed toed shoes, chemistry and merry-go-rounds.

I've realized how pathetic it is to be scared of dark, night rain and ferris wheel when you're alone.

I've realzied tht mere lines and a few dabs of paint will never make a living.

I've realized tht people who fall off a building probably die of shock more than the impact.

I've realized tht listening to God is half not as good as actually conversing to Him.
I've also realized the knowing-in-advance can be very scary but nothing beats Him answering ur questions.

I've realized tht my unruly curly hair will never be perfectly straight.

I've realized tht im still not sure why when a mirror breaks, u can never piece it together perfectly

I realize tht ill never grow tired of writing, cooking and listening to guitars or weray of lavender scents, vanilla ice cream, the smell of petrol, candles, buttercups and mahogany wood.I realize tht someday i wud like to go on a long drive with somebody who doesnt want to talk incessantly and who'd just let me look outside.

I realize how much i hate to make small talk or smile at every godamn person.

and like always:
I realize tht ill never be able to find suitable endings for most of the things i write...

Pleasing for the readership

2007-04-02T20:32:00.000-07:00

He calls me and everytime wants to know exactly how sad and miserable i am. and then valiantly tries to exorcise whtever little demons i have. we usually end up discussing people's disorders though :D

for Cigrael; since he wantd me to write somethng "happy" and "cheerful" this time.

oh what can anybody write anythng that's cheerful and happy and pleasing to the senses? i dont know. my attempts at humor are often lame by me and "glanceful" by others.

Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:

This place made from our love for that emptiness!

Yet somehow comes emptiness,

his existence goes.

Praise to that happening, over and over!

For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,

that work is over.

Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,

free of mountainous wanting.

The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw

blown off into emptiness.

These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning:

Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

Words and what they try to say swept

out the window, down the slant of the roof.

-Jalal ud Din Muhammad Rumi

touched

2007-03-25T11:48:00.000-07:00

i speak to you at times

rifts in an already small pond

my mind, so blank

my life... hollow, touched, sinned and not yet forgiven

-rooj

*and lots of people to tell me its okay. mite as well tell em to stop lying their ass off :D

im nthng more

2007-03-23T11:18:00.000-07:00

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/staind/epiphany.html

falling, failing, flaying... F-ing!

2007-03-17T08:59:00.000-07:00

u see me

not the nexus in my nullity

smiling at me

without knowing tht my being

suffers and ails and hurts

and my breath, aches to be free...

once, for ever.

-rooj

Prelude till the Finale

2007-03-13T00:29:00.000-07:00

So the story goes like this: once upon a time, there lived a girl who loved a boy and the boy loved her back. he courted her, got her the best of everythng and in turn the girl was forever loyal to him. they got married *with all the blessings, offcourse* and had kids who turned out amazing and had grandkids who they loved and adored and spolied. when it time for the boy to die, the girl prayed to God to take her instead since she loved him oh so very much and just cdnt live without him. God looked down at the couple, decided they were too much in love and even He cdnt bear to keep them apart for it tore everybdy's heart. so He, instead, told them to pack their belongings and shift to the never never land where death cdnt touch them and they wud live there happily forever. but the boy sed tht their home was special since they had built it together and he can never think of going anywhere else but here. and so, God thought. He thot about everythng he cud do for them and then thot some more.

the next day when they woke up, time had frozen, everything stood still. trees didnt move, leaves didnt rustle. an angel peeked in. everybody had frozen where they were. boy... girl. kids... grandkids. everybody. shocked tht the world was about to end, the angel flew. high above, wings spread like an eagle's, it flew and flew till the seventh sky was finally beneath it. there, God sat with His eyes full of tears. stunned, the angel didnt know wht to do. it backed away till the very end and slipped past the edge. falling down, it was still in shock. he hit the skies below, crashing through all floors and turning all heads. so shocked was it, tht the wings never quite opened and it never quite flew. crashing on earth, the angel died.

now normally wen the angels die, they breakup into a million stars, each tiny and beautiful. it didnt happen. time had stood still. the angel crashed and lay there. God didnt look down. He had tears in His eyes. the angel just lay there. he just freakin lay there...

i have no idea wht the greatest tragedy is. the frozen couple who were so in love tht they had to be frozen together for all eternity to be immortal, or the fact tht they cud never see each smile now.

or the angel whose fate got sealed because of two earthlings, a fate hurtful beyond measure, a destiny snatched away, a life wasted without quite knowing why

or tht the God had tears in His eyes.

why is it tht no matter what good we do, it turns up against somebody or the other. why is it tht love destroys so much and why is it tht we crave happiness when we know tht in its throes is sadness

i hate it. i hate him. i hate her.

Today's thot

2007-02-21T10:23:00.000-08:00

The brilliant thot ov tday:

*God's dlays ARE God's dnials. v're jst too stupid to knw*

-Arooj

anarkali? :)

2007-02-19T09:06:00.000-08:00

you are the light
you love me so much
you know the way
you are so eager
so bright, knowing-it-all

but im tarnished
im grotesque and hideous
ive been touched in my depths
and
i have no idea where my faith went.

im sorry. im so very sorry. but i just cant go with you.
im not worth it.

aaaaaa!

2007-02-18T23:40:00.000-08:00

i disappointed smbdy today

i feel awful :(

5 Chapters

2007-01-31T09:17:00.000-08:00

i owe kn fr this one. copied EXACTLY the way it was frm her blog.

CHAPTER ONE

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost… I am helpless.

It isn’t my fault.

It takes forever to find my way out.

CHAPTER TWO

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don’t see it.

I fall in again.

I can’t believe I am in this same place.

But, it isn’t my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

CHAPTER THREE

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it there.

I still fall in… it’s a habit… but

My eyes are open.

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

CHAPTER FOUR

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

CHAPTER FIVE

I walk down another street

if nebdy knows how to get outta the second chapter, feel free to coach me :)

Ajeeb bc hain saray!

2007-01-31T00:41:00.000-08:00

So if im not afraid to die, im a suicide bomber?!

neat!

ҳ̸Ҳ̸ҳ the Coin ҳ̸Ҳ̸ҳ

2007-01-16T06:27:00.000-08:00

I ache to hold you

but my hands

they drip innocent blood

and you are so pure

The mind; it fights all reason

tries each night

but my arms

they are so old... and wrinkled

Your body

your body so fresh

eyes like diamonds

shiny, naive, expressive

A touch away you lie

a drink of elixir

a cup of forbidden wine

and countless demons

Such penance!

within my reach and so far, far away

my bitter soul

not worthy... not ready

The pain

oh Lord! such pain

such irony

you lie beside me

Breath whispers on my shoulder

shadows beckon

my heart in a fist

i look at you and turn away

My claws so sharp

your skin so tender

i breathe a dragon's breath

your tear's a farmers' wish

You love me!

why?

im a monster, you dont know

a change... that's all i seek

like most things, this too, shall remain incomplete -rooj

Shitters

2007-01-14T07:14:00.000-08:00

Dear loyal readers,

There are several ways people shit. They shit wen u arnt luking, wen u ARE lukng, wen they think u arnt luking but actually u are *bad! very bad* and they proceed to shit wen they think ure luking, but ure actually too engrossed in somebody's cleavage or somebody's ass.

Here goes, an official tribute to all those shitters:

- You think im not luking. So, wht do you do? You go ahead, behind my back and start shitting. Back stabbing. Why? Because you dont have the guts to come infront of me, look in my eyes and stab me *thereby, justifying the reason why i hate you soo much and you need to shit behind my back* However, the key word is: think! news flash bastard:
I'M ALWAYS LUKING AT UR SORRY ASS!

- Oh, so you do know tht im luking and somehow u've managed to borrow enough balls from smbdy *since have none of ur own; which is why i hate you soo much and you need to shit behind my back* to shit right infront of me. Hey, i have no issues. Its ur shit. Shit wherever u want. I jst hope u do know wht's in store for you. Oh? You dont?!
TSK TSK TSK!

- Fine. I wasn't luking. And u did ur work: shitting! My bad. I agree. But u should know: admiting my own faults is a big thing and usually ryt after tht, im seethng mad. like mad! *think real mad!*
WHA'CHA GONNA DO WEN V CUM FOR U?

It is, therefore, important to know wen and where ure shitting. Thankyou

The ache.

2006-12-05T06:38:00.000-08:00

im lonely. great way to begin ur latest post, but i jst cant help it. im lonely beyond belief. people think im not, since i have such a huge circle of people all arnd me. thy think its funny wen i tell them this. they think of me as ungrateful of wht God has given me. they think im just being a girl. mebbe i am. i dont know. but i really am lonely. really. i just wish smbdy wud atleast believe me. i have nobody to share myself with. people think of me as their best friend, their confidante. but im not. i cant even cry. cuz i hafta hold up all. when they cry, i am the shoulder and the pillow. wen i cry, there is nobody. i cant talk to anybody cuz nobody understands me. no matter wht i do, its not enough. wen im sitting alone, they cum up to me and have this quizzical expression on their face. they ask me, "wht's wrong arooj?" and their eyes have tht same expression tht says, "wht cud be possibly wrong with you? u have a perfect life!" i dont. i dont have a perfect life. i have nobody i can trust, i have nobody to lean on. i cant make friends cuz they ultimately turn into "people in need of counselling". im a human being. i get scared too. i have needs too. i dont have wings. i cant fly away or hide in a corner. i have problems too. problems tht are just as painful. my heart breaks just like urs does. my faith dwindles just like u question urs. im not mother superior. im not gifted. i wasnt made this way. im not strong. im just moulded this way.

if i can hear u cry, why cant u see my tears?

i didnt plan my life this way. jst the other day, somebody i luk upto told me, "u have a great life! how many 22 yr olds of this world work two jobs and earn well while they complete their thesis and make the collection for their fashion show? u have amazing talent. u touch people..." why doesnt anybody realize im 22 and not 42... and im in competition with my own self! i yearn to be able to learn, not know everythng in advance; surprised when it suddenly starts raining all of a sudden and not feel tht dim ache in my heart everytime it pours. i have the same dreams. and even though i swear like a man and talk like a 60 yr old, im still a girl who gets hurt everytime all of her friends get a mail from her crush and her inbox remains empty and im still 22 who loves cheesy novels and hates her work places. im still tht undergraduate who wants to change the world and im still a little girl who gets scared of dark and hates wen it rains at night.

im still arooj who would give anythng to be arooj

to have a shoulder to cry on

and to be loved even with swollen eyes and a red nose.

Hurt

2006-11-27T09:05:00.000-08:00

HURT

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

What have I become?

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end

You could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of shit

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

What have I become?

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end

You could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way

_NIN/ Jhonny Cash

Once in their life time, if they all but knew...

~`~

2006-11-27T09:02:00.000-08:00

n jst wn u dnt c, i bleed.

i cut my wrists, n i bandage thm.

i hang my neck n i luk down.

blood trickles n no drop counts

-Arooj

Jane Doe.

2006-11-15T03:20:00.000-08:00

Jane Doe’s dead. She lives in an asylum where nobody knows her. Maybe that’s why they call her Jane Doe. Come to think of it, she was never alive to begin with and doesn’t remember her home. Or house. No difference really. At least now she lives at a place where people don’t try to understand her. Like they used to in the normal world. Its considerably safe over here too. Nobody beats you up just cuz u belong to a different thinking class.

She sits by her bed all day long… but she doesn’t stare into space. The head isn’t bent either. Her eyes are always shut, not even the slight give-away flutter. As if she was born blind. But she wasn’t. She was normal. Or is normal. Who defines normality neway? She just sits at the edge of the bed, not in the middle like most people in asylums do. Not as if she wants to run away the moment the door opens to let the attendant in with a constant trickle of medicines, food and injections. Injections hurt. Just a tiny bit. Not a whole lot. Should that be a relief? In a place that’s ridden with numbness, forced or other wise, shouldn’t a little more of pain be welcomed? Jane doesn’t think about that. She thinks about other things. No, not the heavens and the stars. No, not her family either. Negative.

She thinks about the people she had associated with almost everything in her life. He times, her memories. Like she didn’t need a journal. She had all the memories kept in different sections of her brain. It was brilliant actually. The system. Magnificent in all its glory. Her brain: a work of art. And emotions. But isn’t art a glorified version of emotion? Jane doesn’t think about this either. Her life is a long way ahead of such petty things.

So what actually is Jane Doe’s story? Where does she hail from? What does she do? Or used to do actually? What makes her tick? Does she think about the tick-tocks of her life? Or is she beyond that capacity? Or simply, how old is she?

Nobody at the asylum knows. And nobody knows why they don’t know. Its just a recognized fact, acceptable: because its easy to accept it and because they have resigned to it. Also because, there is no other way out. They have tried. Oh Lord, have they tried. But no results as usual. So they just accepted what they know. And they know that they know nothing. Are they happy in this knowledge? Does Jane know? Does Jane think about this? Lol. U think so? isn’t she too busy thinking about what-we-don’t-know?
Is Jane dead? Yeah, pretty much. Cuz we don’t know.

Living Cheap

2006-11-14T23:40:00.000-08:00

Amazing isnt it? The kind of humor tht everybody just LOVES to indulge into.

With no last name

2006-11-10T05:36:00.000-08:00

It happened exactly the way it should: like they relate in those trashy romantic novels. My heart ceased to beat and I couldn’t breathe for a moment… a moment that span over an entire century. All girls dream of this: a knight in shining armour on a white stallion. I was no exception. But there were no roses; I wasn’t in a ball gown. And he was no knight... And there was no white mare. There was a railing though; if that amounts to any credibility. And I was dressed a little better that day. And there were a lot of people around, almost like a ballroom. But that’s about where the similarities to my fantasy end. He wasn’t looking. I probably didn’t exist for him: 19, with friends, nothing to do. So I kept looking: His hair, his clothes, the boots. Cologne. After- shave… And that frown. Frown? "Why is he frowning?" ‘Things’ like him don’t frown. They shouldn’t. Those crinkles near the eyes look sexy as hell, but a frown is, after all, a frown. And well… he shouldn’t have to frown…

So I saw him. Spied on him. Got to know him. Made friends with his friends. Forced my friends to make friends with him and his friends. There were so many circles of friends and friends- of- friends that I lost count of all those ‘friendly’ people and gave up trying to remember their names. I finally worked up the courage to say hi, not to his friends or friends- of- friends, but to him… and I mumbled something that he couldn’t hear (just as well) and ran off to the safety of "my own" friends. I couldn’t sleep that night, nor the night after that and for the first time in my life, I took my morning clothes out a night before and found a matching bag and decided to wear at least lip-gloss the next day. He never showed up! *That arrogant bastard!*

And so the sleepless pattern continued and the parade of matching shoes and bags with just the right kind of gloss went on for about a week, by the end of which I had totally given up hope. So the next week, I decided he was probably a figment of my imagination, and dressed like I used to: jeans, kurta, naam- ka- dupatta, bandana, sneakers. No lip-gloss, no mascara and a denim bag *that had definitely seen better days and now could probably pass off as a travel bag* And that’s the day he decides to shows up! I saw him and make a run for the nearest bush to hide behind, and nearly collided with him. He said hi, I looked at him with utter disbelief *he was talking to me! Actually talking!!* , got awfully nervous, didn’t know what to say and instead decided to blush. He got grossed out, didn’t say anything to me, much less a ‘hi’ in the entire week that continued!

Eventually, a year down the lane, he got used to my blushing *or else decided to ignore it* and I managed to string two words together in a sentence and form a decent thread of conversation with him *still getting horrifically intimidated by him knowing about EVERYTHING*. Our only common ground was the verity that there was no common ground. As time elapsed, the horde of accompanying acquaintances began to thin out until eventually only the two of us could sit and talk… or listen to music… or eat…

I don’t think he ever thought of me as intelligent *not for the lack of effort on my part. I certainly tried hard; even started watching Nat Geo and Discovery*. But I would end up saying the stupidest of things, discussing the weirdest of theories *always ending them by, "You probably don’t get it" or "I don’t think I’m making sense", or "Maybe I'm just short on sleep"* and he would never say anything… he would look at me and had this big smile on his face. That irritatingly charming smile. The one that shouted to all within sight. I never could comprehend if the smile was arrogance or care, understanding or mere tolerance. But I looked forward to those smiles every time I built another lame theory *what if the world was a triangle? Would we all fall of it then? Who would live at the edge?*

And then
You know, it’s just not fair when people leave.

I had grown up in government schools, believing in tooth fairies and miracles, reading Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys, listening to BSB and West Life, dreaming of ball gowns and handsome charmers. What could a girl like me possibly do when after losing someone she knew as her faith? Absolutely nothing. Nil. Nought. Zero. Zilch. I was told to keep my hands clasped. One friend said, "You’ll meet him in heaven". I just looked at her and said; "What if there is no heaven?" She got awfully quiet after that. What if there actually was no heaven?? Then?

I have resigned to life. I know nothing can be done from nowhere. And I'm ready to move on. Maybe it was just infatuation *if it was love, I wouldn’t have given up, right?* The turn on was intelligence. Or that smile. Or that sarcasm. Or that bored look on life. Or him… I don’t know… but I can’t share that emptiness with anybody. Just the thought of 'somebody else' puts me off the edge. Another man? I'm not even sure if I loved him. Is love great sacrifice?

I'm tired.

So tired that I gave up on everything. The emptiness and hollowness comes with the resignation and striding that territory is not as ghastly. The idea of being raped emotionally doesn’t seem so hideous now. And hey, I have nobody to blame… not even him! You know why? That’s because he never knew what castles I built in the air, what care-bear notions I allowed to filter my thoughts and what I began to hope against all hope. Hehehee. Its funny in the saddest way possible. We never even went out. I don’t even have a picture of us together.

I'm neither depressed, nor suicidal. I'm just sadly resigned to fate. Whatever it brings, whenever. Growing up, I used to numb myself against thoughts I didn’t want to think, against emotions I didn’t want to feel. And I would never feel the pain. You know what I just discovered? Even numbness aches. And do you know how old I am? I'm not even 23 yet.

I read this on a friend’s blog: "This (heart break) is the only thing that cannot be cured by chocolate and ice cream"

She’s right. I tried. It only makes me cry harder.

tAggEd!

2006-10-08T09:33:00.000-07:00

*tagged by reej!

i am thinking about:

how to breathe

i said:

practically nothing

i want to:

write a book

i wish:

i cud fly

i miss:

my habbits

i hear:

guitar tabs *evn though i know none*

i wonder:

if there is a parallel universe...

i regret:

wanting sumone who wasnt mine to begin with

i am:

a slave to my own heart

i dance:

in my head all the time

i sing:

weird tunes tht hav no lyrics *cum to think of it, WHY?*

i cry:

only wen my heart breaks

i am not always:

this insane, this weak and so out of words

i write:

morbid details

i confuse:

smiles with friendships

i need:

a very very long vacation, some stability and assurance

i should try:

to let go

i finish:

nothing tht i start

goin to tag laddu (zeeshan) *if he ever gets to read this*, umer *if he has the strength*, kn *if she writes ever again*, Aftab *if he wants to* and Keebu (AaQib) *if he has the time*

and just incase, smbdy is as dumb as i am, being tagged means u hafta fill the same thing in ur blog :)

The Little Brown Ant

2006-10-06T05:59:00.000-07:00

"Words, and what are they? Nothing."
Nothing, they repeat.
"And everything."
Everything, they say after me.

It’s a chorus of meaningless words. Chants of a hidden cult. Oppressive to the followers and strangely sovereign to the leader. My slaves repeat all I say. They think like me, they act the way they are supposed to. They shut their brains when I want to be the superior one; they clone my being when I take a break. But slaves they are. They have no will. No freedom to have will. My reason sees no reason in other beliefs, my love believes in no other love to co exist.

"They are just a few letters jumbled up in in-ordinate sequence. They fly in the air. You only have to listen with the right obsession to hear their meaning, feel their moods. And then, they are masterful creations, encompassing your thoughts till your entire life revolves around them. And you believe in the totality of that universe, even though you think you know there is many more out there. You think they are important, and they might well be, but you make them your god. You think no more. You think no less. And you become a slave to them. A slave to the slaves. And you feel elated."

They bob their heads in unison. They are listening to me. Already falling victim to the Charmer of Words. They are listening, not realizing that I am doing exactly what I am telling them. They are making me their leader, without thinking about the trick. They feel on top of the world as I addict them to my words. Their world has already started shrinking till I am in the centre.

The feverish expression they all bear in their eyes is haunting. Only I can see this. They are content being my slaves. They want to hear more, necks straining forward, vainly trying to hear if I mumbled something they didn’t attend to, little doubts of their incompetence already settling in the meagre brain cells. I have made a world for myself. My circle of followers has grown with a mere mumbo jumbo of letters. A B C D E… I may as well be just repeating the alphabets for all they can understand…

"Love. What is that?"
What?, comes the predictable question
"Nothing"
Nothing! Chants, chants…
"And everything!"
*Silence*

This time, no slave of mine repeats after me. I have lost what I had for a billion years in a single word. I no longer have their respect. I am no longer their master. They have suddenly found my identity. I am just a human being. Weak. Frail. And sadly, mortal.

They have all been bitten by the forbidden. They no longer preach the rosy view. They no longer remember the quivers, sudden lurching of the heart and the unexplainable weakening of their knees. The stopping- and- then- the- sudden- gushing- out- of- their- breath has now been labelled as a disease. I see the change in their eyes. Still red, the holiness has vanished. Their look has changed. I feel unworthy. I feel touched.

"… And everything disastrous." I try as an attempt to salvage my post. I have to feel divine, sacred, righteous
*Silence*
"… And it leads to mental instability"
*A few murmurs*
"… And heart break and in- competency"
*Necks craning again*
"… And all such matters should be discarded. For we are the superior race, we reject such absurd philosophy. Love is nothing but a mere proclivity of body chemicals"
Yes! Bodily chemicals, I can hear them now.
"There should be no such word. Let us reject all affiliations. Lust is what governs us and lust is what we have vowed to rebuke…"
Rebuke!, I have been accepted back again.

They start clambering around me, crawling near my feet, touching my hem. I have won again. I am consecrated again, sacred, blessed. And at what cost? Nothing. Love is not the foundation of the universe. Love is not what I thought it was. Why not just rebuttal all things based on love? I get to be celestial, don’t I?

vault

2006-09-25T07:55:00.000-07:00

ready to do battle again. here i cum :)

clasped

2006-07-05T12:53:00.000-07:00

worldwide prayers required for strength, effective immediately. thankyou