An emotional detour.

A year passed by so quickly that I only realized this when I saw the news & newspapers today. Everything had Benazir Bhutto's picture in it- articles, newspapers, TV, posters, banners, you name it- the Bhutto element was so omnipresent. December 27, 2007 was surely a very pivotal day for the whole world. I remember it was one of my classmate Aly's birthday, the day my dad was coming back from his Hajj duty, the day when one of my friend's cousin was getting married and it was the day she died. I remember how I was so very bored that day. I kept myself glued to the couch in front of the TV and lazily munched on a bag of crisps by my side. Nothing interested me. I was sick of the same breaking news after each minute issued Geo about Benazir's upcoming rally. I left the TV on and went to my room to doodle about a bit. After a long time, I heard the signature music of Geo channel's breaking news session. Something had happened, I felt it. I ran towards the lounge, which happened to be at the opposite end of our flat. There was firing and a blast at Liaqatbagh at BB's rally. I screwed my face up. This had happened before on October 18 too, but she was safe. She must have survived this too, she had so much security around her. After a ten to fifteen minutes, Babar Awan publicly announced to the reporters gathered around General Hospital that BB was no more. I remember the pounding in my chest, I also remember forgetting how to blink. I was never an avid supporter of the PPPP or BB in person, but I too felt her loss. I thought about her children, how hard it is to lose a mother, that too to a suicide attack. I spent the whole day camping in front of the TV, watching news channels blare out second-to-second updates about her possible cause of death, her planned autopsy and her funeral. I listened to Zardari's grief-stricken voice in a telephonic interview to a news channel. I still couldn't believe she had died. Maybe she'll pop up again from a corner, from behind a banner and start chanting "Girti huwi deewar ko aik dhakka aur do! Go Musharraf, Go!"..[Give another push to a crumbling wall]...I wasn't ready to face her absence in the media or in the political scenes. As I watched TV all day long and heard people from all over the world commend her as a person and prime minister, I was forced to go into an in-depth search about her. My internet history would bear witness to the thousands of pages I visited to read up on BB. Not that she was new name to me, I just felt that I had to know more about her. I wanted to know whether she had really looted the country's money and built luxurious houses for herself abroad. I had burning questions in my mind about her suspected involvement in Murtaza Bhutto's murder and other such charges. She didn't look greedy or deprived. So why so many accusations? Why so many controversies? I looked up through massive series of text online, each article changing my opinion towards one way or the other. But my sentiments remained the same- I actually missed BB. This summer instead of totally sacrificing myself over studying for the MCAT, I got the chance to read "Daughter of the East", which was an autobiography written by BB herself. I remember my dad saying, "I know that now that you've gotten your hands on this book, you won't be studying with the same vigor."...Yes, he was so very right. I'd find myself cutting short my study sessions just to get the chance to read a page or two from the book and instead spend an hour literally glued to the pages. As I read, most of my relatives kept telling me "What use is it to read a biased account?"...If you really want to know, ask those who suffered or experienced the brunt of all those money laundering cases. I still read on...I wasn't in love with BB, I wasn't rallying for PPP, I was just showing respect for an international woman. As a consequence of her death and watching to so many of her speeches and documentaries, a new spirit of patriotism grew in me. Before I even realized, I had written "Flames", a poem that I published earlier on my blog about the condition of my country. I engaged in debates on groups online, trying to convince people that a new government will bring change if given the proper chance. All this was around end of 2007 and beginning 2008- a year old now. Today as I watched TV, skimmed through Dawn and looked around me outside, all I saw was Bhutto. So much love, so much respect, so much of charisma- this wasn't something everyone could easily acquire. I sometimes secretly wish that when I die, I want to be remembered like that. Logos, newspapers, magazines, etc. In a GOOD way though. Allah, you know best. I'm not even going to say anything else 'cause I don't what's right to say and what isn't. Allah, just do whatever's in our best interest, You know best. Whenever I hear chants of "Zinda hai BB, Zinda hai", I end up getting so emotional and it's funny 'cause I don't know just why my emotions run so high. I feel split about how to feel towards her. Should I like her 'cause she suffered so many personal losses in the course of making Pakistan a better country? Or should I hate her based on the many accusations on her, some of them even proven? Sometimes, it can become so hard to decide what to feel for another person. Sighs.

Too Much For Me.

Come oh sleep,
take me in your arms,
for this world has become,
too much for me to bear.

Take me for a ride,
along the sandy beaches,
the star-studded skies,
for this air has become
too less for me to breathe.

Let me touch the moon,
feel the blue clouds,
Let me taste new heights,
Take me to the hills,
for this life has become,
too much for me to live.

I want to swing from trees,
Wear a tiara of leaves,
Let me taste honey dew,
let me feel the rosy petals,
for this pain has become,
too much for me to take.

Flying across oceans,
carressing the snows,
I want to sip from the rivers,
and dip in the seas.
For this love has become
too hurtful for me to love.

Carry me on the palms,
Lift me through the breeze,
Let me soar across the mountains,
Let me feel the cool and heat,
For this time has become
too vast for me to pass.

Let me gather the stars,
Collect the dust,
and let me pick those shells,
for these things are souvenirs
too symbolic for me to take.

Jars of honey and dew,
Clear springs and rain,
Let me dance in the wetness,
For this thirst has become,
too much for me quench.

Let me play with the bees,
Talk to the ants,
and gossip with the birds,
for this solitude has become,
too much for me to handle.

I see you creep into my eyes,
I see you take over my soul,
I feel you lulling my senses,
and I know it has become too hard
for me to decipher.

Here's another night,
when dreams will live,
when cries will die,
and light will give,
a new path,that's too bright
for me to walk on.

But I promise, I will wake up one day,
Shake all my fears away,
and there'll be a whole world,
too big for me to discover.

It Rained Pain Today.

It rained pain on me today,
It soaked me wet,
It made me want to drown,
It filled me with regret.

It rained flames on me today,
It burnt me dry,
It made me want to burn,
It just made me want to die.

It rained blood on me today,
It colored me a total crimson,
It made me want to run away,
It weighed upon me more than a ton.

When the rains all ceased,
I stopped to gather my pieces,
One here, another there,
Nothing looked at ease.

There was a torrent of sorrow,
then a lightening of grief,
Right now I'd do anything,
to cut my life really brief.

Every step of mine,
was too stalled,
I felt so worthless,
so useless, so small.

The sun burnt my eyes,
The rains soaked my soul,
I was all alone,
There was nobody to call.

In the midst of the storm,
I stood like a burnt match,
looking at the ruthless sky,
for a single star to catch.

It was too dark,
I couldn't see a thing,
There were thorns,
and flowers that'd sting.

Rocks tore my flesh,
Pebbles pelted my eyes,
Thorns poked my soul,
I was now deaf to my own cries.

So it rained pain today,
and it purged me inside-out,
and now I'm left to melt,
in the fire of doubt.

Flames.

I wrote this poem during a very emotional and topsy turvy time. I wrote it around Benazir Bhutto's assasination last year. I published it on facebook and on my other blog before I closed it. I just wanted to share it in here as her death anniversary comes closer. However, I want to make clear that I support no political party and I am in no way affiliated with any of them. I support facts, not people. Thanks.



i watch as my country burns in ashes,
the fumes blurring my eyes,
as i see the pages of history,
smother the flames.
those dirty politicians
playing their dirty games,
Jinnah, Allama Iqbal and other forgotten names,
burn in the rubble.
Oh there goes a Sindhi?
a Punjabi? a Balochi? There's a Pathan.
Where's the concept of a united Pakistan?
Buried alive under the plague of corruption,
impossible to lead lives without military interception.
Is this what we got out of 60 years?
Remorse, regret and bloody tears?
Some NRO and some PCO,
doing nothing, just worsening status quo.
Bhutto bagging bags of cash,
Sharif cowardly evading a political clash,
Musharraf ruling us with a lash.
Jihad, jihad, mullahs scream,
Is a stable Pakistan just a dream?
The hollow promises of a prosperous Pakistan,
where nobody would be crying?!
Labelled as militants, innocent people who are dying,
Cutting out parts of our own,
and rejoicing at the blood,
why do we only unite,
during an earthquake or a flood?
The green and white flag,
that we once held high,
seems so dead and sullen,
all of sudden, why oh why?
They sleep as our land bleeds,
mines where there were once cotton seeds.
The mills now churning out bombs,
the air filled with cries and sobs.
the gun, the knife, the fire,
becoming a necessity,
is this true patriotism?
no, this is HYPROCRISY.
Not a single law you could pass,
to protect young girls from abuse,
just pass laws to make the national treasury,
only open for political and personal use.
education suffers, so does infrastructure,
then you blame it on the public,
calling them lazy vultures?
you grapple on the funds,
and eat from our plates,
build palaces abroad,
and fly luxurious planes.
YOU are the culprits who we need to catch,
the evil you commit has no earthly match!
This nation has been looted,
plundered and destroyed!
We will not let you do this,
with this country you toyed.
Killing millions everyday,
following the American Dream?
Shutting your ears to all cries and screams!?
Sacking the CJ
and claiming democracy?
this is nothing, but pure tyranny!
8 years of consistency,
and 80 years of oppression,
800 years of no law and order,
and 8000 years of tears,
this is what YOU have brought!
YOu have left this land to rot.
While you sit and sign papers with a Parker,
there are those who suffer from hunger,
those who inject poison into veins to live,
what do you have for them to give?
you have made us a FAILED state,
manipulated with our country's fate!?
foreign accounts and foreign currency,
imposing unwanted emergency?
lapdog to the States, yes, that's you,
Hail Bush, that's religion to you.

Vottay Day.

I have an off tomorrow! Thanks to Quaid-e-Azam Day! *all smiles* But I have to go back to college on Friday, which sorta sucks, since I have my foundation module assessment that day! This is going to be our "first" assessment in medical school and that's why I'm a little apprehensive about it. sighs. I hope all my scrawny notes come into use while I'm studying for the test, insh'Allah. Umm, today was interesting! We did communication skills with two professors, Dr. Fawad Qaiser & Dr. Mati-ur-Rehman, it was quite interesting in the beginning, but then seriously it dragged on a little too much. Both of them randomly picked students from the hall and dragged them onto stage for answering questions or role playing...haha, it scared the living daylights out of many! Thank God I was totally invisible to them! I'm so glad I have an off tomorrow! I just want to hibernate. I'm enjoying the winters, but getting up in the freezing cold is just pure torture. =/ Today Saneea, Ayla and I took a long, long walk in the Shifa lawns, while we discussed our hawt favorites from class. lol. It was amazing. I totally shocked Saneea with the amount of food I ate. "Moti ho jao gi!" she exclaimed when I declared my menu for both my breaks. haha. My canteen has all kinds of food, which becomes short a little too quickly.. I consume so many bottles of soft drinks, which is NOT healthy at all. I need to cut down on them. But I seriously can't digest food without some kind of a carbonated drink, especially pepsi! But I guess, it's time to change now, Sidra. I just had yellow m&ms, the ones with peanuts in them. I always found the peanuts in them stale and raw. Sometimes I feel like suing the company for it. But I eat them anyways, regardless. I guess, I've turned into this big, fat, grouchy potato that just complains and wants to do nothing about anything. Oh by the way, I was chewing on wrigley's chewing gum in class today. Something that I didn't do in the longest time. I think I chewed a little too much, 'cause even before I knew the gum had totally dissolved in my mouth and was now sticking to my lips! I was trying to get it off, so that I wouldn't look like a cow, but I was totally helpless 'cause I didn't have any mirror to see whether it was off or not. lol. I'm NEVER chewing gum in class again. I've learnt my lesson today! Lessons, that's what we got today. How to become a better listener, a better speaker, a better communicator etc. As Dr. Mati-ur-Rehman lectured us about good communication skills, I could see each and every flaw in my personal communication skills stick their tongue out at me. I talked too much, out of which only 3 % of the things made sense, I didn't give others the chance to talk, I just wanted people to hear me out and agree with me. Basically, I was being an unhealthy competitor. I almost got into an argument AGAIN with one of my friends, or should I say an msn contact that I become too concerned about at times. I don't know. *rolleyes* I guess, I fail at showing people how concerned I am and end up sounding too harsh and uptight. But then I don't need to go around publicising my intents either, so it's okay. Anyways, I will add more to this later, with spicier updates, insh'Allah.

100 Watters and much much more!

This world is SO small. That's what hits me between the eyes whenever I end up seeing so many mutual friends with different people on Facebook :P... I'm enjoying the signature-style Islamabadish winters. I like, I really like. Things are cool so far, alhamdullilah. We are doing airy fairy concepts in our foundation module, which I won't call "useless", but just a lil too overboard maybe. The only reason I go to college daily is to meet my friends. lol. I'm glad that I made a lot of good friends in such little time. It seems like we've all known each other since a pretty long time! At least that's what we wanna tell others :P haha. I guess it's because all of us are starting a new phase in our lives and we're all so very new to the whole "college experience"..it's nice actually, I didn't have to sit down in a corner and brainstorm about way to barge into cliques to make some space for myself :P Things just naturally fell into place instead of falling apart. So all's great, alhamdullilah. And I really hope it stays this way, insh'Allah.

Changing tracks, I installed a hardware device in my laptop for the first time in my 18 year old life. I can so imagine Haseeb laughing his guts out at this! But it's not all that hard as it seems :P I did have a hard time putting in the ink catridges. I was paranoid that I'd damage them in some way while trying to force them into the socket. I did a lot of important kaam yesterdayyy! I read through EBM, Evidence Based Medicine, I folded all my extra clothes, installed my printer AND talked to Naseeha on the phone! So I'm very happy with all my accomplishments! :P I got a lot done! The weather gets so nice around the afternoon. I really like it! It puts a 100-watter on my face :P the mornings and nights are TOO cold, you don't want to step out of the covers. I'm in my favorite pink sweatshirt with its hoodie and socks when I go to bed, it's THAT cold. I miss the way winters were back home. lol. Even the slightest drop in temperature was considered "COLD" and would force everyone to visit Rashid or Mall of Dhahran to update their winter wardrobe! And of course, who can forget to mention the countless photo sessions we conducted in the winters! And the garam garam spring rolls with pools of ketchup and chilli sauce from the canteen! And the nasty mile we had to run in the cold, which we tried to cheat at :P haha. I'm in the mood of writing a GOOD poem. I have a few ideas, but I'm just trying to put things together for a while. Sighs. When I mention to anyone over here that I've never seen snow in my life, they all give me THE look. I tell them that the only snow I saw was in "Snow World"...lol...a synthetic ice/snow arena in an amusement park back in Saudi...haha. I basically prove that I'm such a sad, sad person. =P I got off early today! Like around 12. It was just so cool. I came hope and took a much-needed power nap and enjoyed lazing around with no assignments to worry about. But honestly speaking, my minds craves some amount of stimulation, academically speaking. =/ Ah, enough bakwaas. I will add more later.

Let Go.

Today I have decided to finally let go.

My palms face upward, my fingers apart,

I'm going to let you go,

even if it breaks my heart.

Each step you take,

I feel it on my chest,

You're taking with you my everything,

leaving me to a quest.

When you glance at me one last time,

my lashes quiver to contain the flood,

When you let out a long sigh,

The coolness freezes my blood.

As the dust rises around your feet,

I'm left to stare at the ground,

feeling like the helpless earth beneath,

My heart forgets to pound.

As I stare at the back of your head,

Your neck so stiff, held up high,

I bow my head in shame,

I can't even look up at the sky.

When I raise my lids,

I want you to turn,

I want to see your face once more,

my hurt and mind churns.

My eyes keep wandering,

Now, now, I know, you'll look,

I keep telling myself,

but it's hard to regain whatever you took.

My eyes keep following,

searching for you through trees,

But alas,you're gone,

like silk without a crease.

Now that I've let you go,

I want to free everything,

A clear crystal shines somewhere,

forcing me to think.

A little bit of pain,

goes a very long, long way,

So I decide to cut myself deeper,

and live this as my last day.

When I see red, I smile,

that's the color of your heart,

I feel cold and then warm,

Now I feel you and I are on the same path.

Only directions are different,

No worries about that,

I ascend and you descend,

That's all to be exact.

So today I decided to let go of you,

of the pain I gave you,

of the tears that streamed down my cheeks,

of the days when we skipped through meadows,

of the times we spent catching butterflies,

of the dreams we saw together,

of the clouds that rained upon us,

of this life, which was so meaningless without you.

Surreal Starts.

Dec 13, 2008. Saturday.

It's cold. Freezing kind. And they say this is just the beginning of Islamabad winters. sighs. Orientation's tomorrow and classes start only a day after. I never imagined time would fly this fast. I know I'm very redundant, all my blog entries consist of the sentence "time flies". But there's little I can do about it. It does fly, exponentially, when you want things to slow down a bit. Sometimes I wish time could be regulated like the speed of a blender in a food factory. Slow through the times of joy and fast through the times of downs and lows. I don't have access to the internet and it truly feels like I've been kicked out of everyone's life. When mom and I initally got here on Thursday, we immediately got to the arduous task of sorting out our knick knacks. We dusted, wiped, washed and cleaned every crook and nook we saw. The result? We ached all over by 9ish and we hit the bed immediately. The house felt so strange. It didn't feel very much like home. It was cold. Too cold. Empty. Too empty. I went into a bout of depression instantly. I got an sms from a friend in Bangladesh telling me how she wasn't feeling too good about things. That was a trigger. All this time, I was trying to be as expressionless as possible, especially in front of my mom and now I felt even worse. I tried to busy myself in things. I folded all my clothes, counted them, placed them in my closet. Then I sorted my shoes out. I dusted each and every piece of furniture in my room. When I felt like crying, I vigorously scrubbed the metallic handles to my side drawers and study table. I really wanted to talk to someone, call up anyone of my close friends and cry my ass off. I missed my brother, my dad, my house, Saudi...everything. I tried to be positive. I calmed myself by telling myself that thank Allah you're not in a hostel, you have your mom with you, you have a whole house to yourself, every facility you wanted. After a dose of self-assurance, things would be okay, but then I would be down in the dumps again. I'd stand by my living curtain-less living room window and stare out into the distance. The sound of a plane flying overhead would want me to just reach out and grab a wheel and beg the pilot to drop me to Saudi. Yesterday and today I went out with my mom to the nearest marketplace to get ourselves a bit of grocery items. We prayed asr and then made our way through our "new" neighborhood streets to the so-called "I-8 Markaz". It was a nice experience, carrying grocery on our way back without any car to carry our load. Something we had never done back in Saudi. We'd always go with my dad to the nearest Giant Stores, Panda, or Carrefour, buy whatever we required, load it in our car and head off home. Here, I was learning new things. On our way back, we lost our way through the shortcut, so we decided to walk and just see where the streets led us to. On our way, we came across such pretty houses and lawns. We liked someone's garage, someone's windows, someone's lawns, someone's gates. Today I busied myself in ironing out my clothes for the next 4-5 days. It felt weird ironing along the "shalwaar's" creases instead of lightly ironing jeans and wearing western outfits daily. I matched my scarves with each outfit, then I chose the shoes. I craved internet so much, but there was nothing I could do about it. My landline wasn't installed yet either, so I was heavily depending on my cellphone to get in touch with everyone. I had put in 500 rupees just 2-3 days ago. The next thing I knew was that I just had 185 rupees left today. Once you get to Pakistan, you become so stingy and so conscience about the way you spend. I miss the lack of concern I had when I only came to vacation here. Today I just decided to try to occupy myself with my laptop. A laptop without internet is like a body without a soul. Anyways, I just opened up notepad and jotted down my randomest and saddest thoughts and rants, it does feel better. I'm nervous about tomorrow, excited too. I just don't know. One thing that's been really good about moving into my house is that I've knocked some regularity into myself, especially in regards to my prayers. Alhamdullilah, I feel very good when I pray. I prayed zuhr on the terrace today in the afternoon, with the sun and the cool breeze, it becomes really a cool place to pray. Changing tracks, I haven't visited wikipedia in ages. I am just listening to Singh is King songs, and I remembered how I'd read up the synopsis on wikipedia instead of wasting 2-3 hours of life on a movie. Now I don't think I'll ever get the chance to sit down and watch movies as much as I used too. Well, actually, I was never too big on movies, so that's a plus. Oh, I must mention, I went through my books. They look very interesting. Hope the interest remains for five long years and beyond, insh'Allah. Alhamdullilah, I feel a little better after venting out now. I don't know when I will get the internet and when this will become public. But anyways, lets cut it here.

Dec 15, 2008. Monday.

Orientation was a blur. It came and passed away even before I could say "Shifa College of Medicine". I was surprised to know that there were so many people from Lahore and from Saudi! There was just one girl from Saudi, Kashaf. Surprisingly, she turned out to be friends with some of my good friends, so it was cool. The rest of the Saudi lot was from Minarat and Paki Intl School :P schools I didn't want to really associate with honestly speaking. I have a total of 100 people in my class. During orientation, they started with the recitation of the Quran. It felt a little weird in the sense that I had never started school mornings with a religious start, but it was cool. I met up with Hadeeqa the first thing in the orientation, so I was glad that I wasn't going to be hanging out alone the whole time. It was a relief seriously! She and I had met up on facebook about a month ago and seeing her in person was cool too! :) Then I saw Ayla from a distance! She seemed to be so talkative online, but she appeared to be so reserved and quiet! I didn't get to sit with her 'cause she had come in late, but later I did manage to have a short talk with her. Then I went for a college tour and it was amazing to see how much they had, a lot more than I expected. I liked the Anatomy Museum and Forensic Medicine Dept, the most. Today was my first day of college, officially speaking that is. I was ten minutes late to my first lecture, but thank God that wasn't much of a biggie. We started with the foundation module, which comprises of Medical Ethics, Communication Skills and Evidence-Based Medicine, very fancy terms, I know :P ummmm, I made a lot of friends today and it was really nice 'cause approaching people is THE hardest part when you're starting off in a new place. My friends are called Sahla, Ayla, Hadeeqa, Khadija, Maliha, Kashaf, Anam, Zainab, and Sabeena. We luckily got two breaks today- one for 30 minutes and another for 45 minutes. We roamed around the lobby and around the college/hospital premises & enjoyed the doses of sunlight in the extreme isloo winter. During my first break, I was too queasy to eat anything, but then by the second break I just bought myself a shawarma, which Kashaf and I constantly compared with the Shawarmas back home, in Saudi. My shawarma had too much of chaat masala and here I'm thinking about what kind of an idiot puts chaat masala in a shawarma? Anyways.... I was expecting ragging to be totally inevitable, but when I read a sign that read "RAGGING IS INEXCUSABLE", my joy was so ineffable. A bunch of second year girls approached us, but to our pleasant surprise, they were there to introduce themselves to us and to tell us never to hesitate if we needed their help. Later as we exited the college lobby and went out to stand by the main college entrance, we got 'news" that there was a minute amount of ragging going on near the stairs leading to the basement [that's where our foundation sessions were being held], Sahla and I totally freaked out and decided to sneak away to the nearest alternative route to the basement. Luckily for us, we found another set of stairs leading to the basement. lol. It was fun. They then showed us "Patch Adams", which was part of the foundation module. It was such an amazing movie. Had I watched it in private, I'd have shed a few tears, but I couldn't afford being a sissy by crying in public on the first day of college. I simply loved that movie. Our lecturers [I don't even know all their names yet. =/] then gave us a few questions to reflect over about the movie for homework. Now that I'm done with it, I'm happily spending time here on notepad trying to write blog entries, which will become public very later. My college timings till Dec 27 are going to from 8:00 to 4:00, which is too hectic. I miss school dismissal at 1:30. sighs. They dismissed us early at around 3:40 today. My driver was supposed to arrive at 4, so I just walked around with Sahla and talked about stuff as we toured the Shifa premises. The weather was good, not too cold, it was sunny instead. It felt nice walking with such pride with my labcoat flapping in the breeze.lol. Reminds me of what Emad, a friend from school told me about starting medical school, and I quote "Initially you will feel all special about being called a "doctor saab", but later the bouts of depression are too much. You become disillusioned and wonder why you chose this way to be doomed? But nonetheless, it's a great field". Friendssssss reminds me! A guy in my class has the "WEIRDEST" hair-do. Okay, maybe "weird' isn't the word, it's unique, lets show some respect. lol. His hairstyle reminds me of Edward Cullen from Twilight and I can so imagine all my friends dying to see him now. haha. Especially Anam, Naseeha, and Hibah. Oh let me take this opportunity to make my hatred for Edward public. :) I'm not insane, I am just too human for the whole "vampire experience" :P...Changing tracks, we got all our cargo from Saudi just yesterday...We unpacked all the boxes and adding the few bits and bobs here and there gave my house a truly different feel, but Pakistan still doesn't feel home, my heart's still in Saudi....I don't even feel like eating junk food here, although back in Saudi I was an addict! Here everything tastes like rubber especially junk food. I just don't find the same "charm" in it anymore. Sighs. I know I am obsessed with Saudi. I'm in LOVE with Saudi Arabia. lol. I've spent the best years of my life in there and I just can't let go of them too easily, as it is pretty obvious by each and every post of mine. Okay enough. Tata.

Yada Mada's. =]---- basically things that I forgot or were too random to mention in my entry.

*. They gave us a whole reflective essay to write, which is due on a Friday [alien, since Fridays were always off for us, sighs]. Blukhies.
*. I just changed the time on my laptop, it initially read "6:24 P.M" and I just changed it to "8:24 P.M" *halo* painful process of moving ahead, I tell you.

*. Oh, did I tell you how much I missed my auditorium from back in Rahima and Mrs. Read's assemblies when I attended my college orientation? Sighs. Those assemblies were THE shit. Enough said.

Sighs.

I've been looking up and down for this ghazal written by "Ibn-E-Insha" and I just can't find it! I found the lyrics, but I just can't find the song! It's so freaking annoying when Google fails to show your fruitful search results. There's some weird version by Chayya Ganguli, but I absolutely find it crappy. Sighs. College starts in a few days- five days to be exact. It's a little freaky, but I'm glad I will have some proper routines. I just can't wait to go back to Islamabad and knock some discipline into my life. Seriously, living like a couch potato is boring and just so unproductive. I can't wait to go back, set up my room, clean up and arrange my stuff the way I want. I just can't wait to start college. At the same time, I'm a little worried about the people I'm going to be with. I've made friends, thanks to Facebook, but I'm still feeling a little jittery. Insh'Allah, the feeling will go away after orientation. One of my seniors told me that someone will be randomly picked to speak on orientation day, I so wish it isn't me, I've just had it with public speaking. I don't how I'm going to muster up the courage and address a crowd, especially a totally unfamiliar one. All my life I've been praying and working towards getting into a good medical college and alhamdullilah, I've got myself into one too. And now I just don't know what exactly to pray for. Not that I'm out of ideas, it's just that I am just so grateful to Allah for everything. Alhamdullilah.
Okay, whatever. I don't know what else to say. Go away.

R.I.P Toffee

Today's Eid-ul-Adha, a holiday that Muslims all around the world celebrate each year. This happens to be my first one in Pakistan, so of course I'm here with tons of drama, fun and thrill. The night before was spent just talking non-stop with none other than Anam. We slept around 6 in the morning and woke up around 1, that too due to the incessant yells of our respective mothers. I ran to the dining table as soon as I could, gulped down all the spicy chana chaat, totally ignored the vermicelli, and devoured some lamb chops with huge sips of pepsi. Sounds very barbaric, but it was fun! Trust me, lol. I went out to our backyard to check on the remnants of Toffee. Toffee is what Mowahid [my 5 year old cousin] and I had named our brown and white spotted goat. Toffee was finally gone. We had bought him only two days before Eid and in spite of the "short-lived" interaction with him, he had become a major delight at least for the kids. Mowahid would remind us to take care of his goat each night before he went to bed upstairs. He and I would sit near the backyard for hours, discussing how the goat managed to eat so much of grass and still have room for more. The goat had been slaughtered long before we had gotten up, so there wasn't much we witnessed. I hurriedly dressed into my eid clothes and got ready to greet friends around the neighborhood. As Anam and I stepped into the street, we saw housemaids washing blood and bones off their respective garages and yards. Some pools of blood remained, thank God it wasn't too bad. After all our religion declares "Cleaniless as half imaan". It was interesting seeing everyone out on the street, greeting each other, distributing meat, and dressed in such nice outfits. We went to Deeba's house across the street, then Aunty Khalida's house right beside ours, then we went to Humaira's house- a couple of houses down, then to Haroon's house- where we enjoyed icecream caked truffles and an amazing chocolate cake. I just wanted to stay there if it wasn't for the already pooling amounts of guests present there! Right now I just received many sms from friends from all around Pakistan- Islamabad, Lahore & Karachi, to wish me on Eid. I smsed a few back, the rest I greeted on the internet. Calls and smses should be free on Eid at least. Warid, please take note! The evening before we went out to the Gourmet, the most renowned bakery in Lahore, to buy last minute food items. It was just too crowded and supplies were running low, the refrigerators were totally wiped clean- no soft drinks, no bread, no milk. It seemed like everything was short. Anyways, that's all for now. I will come back with more updates, later sometime, insh'Allah.

Eid Mubarak to all Muslims around the world! :)

All I Need.

A hand in my hand,
A glow in my eyes,
A song on my lips,
That's all I need.

A finger to show,
A shadow to follow,
A guide to lead,
That's all I need.

A pure heart,
to care, to cherish,
devoid of any greed,
That's all I need.

A harvest of hard work,
A shade to shelter me,
Something to sow as a seed,
That's all I need.

The feeling of joy,
Tears of happiness,
Each tear a small bead,
That's all I need.

A little return,
A little smile,
For my every little deed,
That's all I need.

A bit of warmth,
A cup of sunshine,
For my soul to feed,
That's all I need.

Crooked lines of fate,
Twisted destinies,
and someone who could read,
That's all I need.

A sense of faith,
A tinge of holiness,
A link to creed,
That's all I need.

Broken chain,
Stretched out wings,
Feeling newly freed,
That's all I need.

So Little Time.

Sometimes you don't need reasons, you don't even need ideas...thoughts just flow into the emptiness of your mind...one after another like rain drops from the sky...Creases appear on your forehead, right between your eyebrows...it looks like something hurts deep inside, but you don't really know what it is. You shake your head side-to-side, as if to toss out a series of erratic thoughts...then you stare into the distance and try to focus upon the chipped paint on the wall or the dust particles shining in the sunlight streaming through a broken window...you don't know what it is all about, yet you know there's something... Magical? Mysterious? Enigmatic? You just don't know the right word. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Okay, so you are alive. You look up at God and smile. Thank You, you mutter under your breath. You roll your head back to rest it against the ebony rocking chair...The chair creaks a little. Maybe it's been too long now, that's what the creak conveys. You put your feet one on top another and try to assume a comfortable stance...There's nothing you can do about the cold except just pull your shawl a little more tightly around yourself...The broken window can't be mended, it's way beyond repair...The fireplace is full of ashes burning a faint orange almost going out. The clock needles have given up. The hour hand points at 1 and just stops there. You smile to yourself. You know time never stops. You try to close your eyes and think about the olden days. A video reel spins into life somewhere. You hear squeals, you see black and white, a bit of sepia too. You hear cries, laughter, you hear gun shots and you hear fire crackers. It's a mixed plate. So much to choose from. Colors, so many of them. Red, orange, green, blue, yellow. It seems like someone has haphazardly thrown them on a canvas. That's just how colorful it all seemed to be now. A little boy running barefoot across the meadows, hat in hand, whistling to a tune. A young girl with a freckled face and braided hair perched on a rock, knitting. A feeling of warmth fills you. You feel so grounded. So secure. So at home. Then you see an angel. A beautiful angel, its wings fluttering gently behind it. It comes towards you. With a tip of its head, it beckons you to follow it. You feel weightless. You feel at ease. You know it's time. You just know.

There's a knock at the door. Nobody answers. Another knock. Still no answer. The postman peeks through the broken window and sighs. The letter in his hand flutters in the breeze as he stamps it: Deceased.

Photo credit:

steveshieldphotography.com/page2.htm

Aftermath or After-THE-Math.

Staying in Pakistan has its share of disadvantages. I haven’t watched the news since a gazillion days. I only get to read the newspaper when I use it to absorb excess oil out of freshly-fried French fries or samosas. That’s how ignorant and intellectually-isolated I become. I came to know about the Mumbai blasts while I was waiting for my bus in the Daewoo waiting lounge on November 28. The large LCDs blared out news about the number of casualties, the second-to-second updates about the military operation in the Taj Mahal and Oberoi hotels, and the escalating tension between Pakistan and India, the United States and Soviet Union of Asia. I was absolutely dumb-founded at the news, I couldn’t believe how I could have missed out on such big a calamity! I remember in December 2005, while I was in Lahore for my winter break, I had no news about the Tsunami, which had wrecked havoc around the world. That’s just how much busy and oblivious I had been. My eyes were transfixed at the Pakistani newscasters as they talked to one minister after another and then contacted their Indian counterparts covering the event live from Mumbai. Since the blasts had taken place a day before, it was old news for many, but I was in a state of my own. I could feel people around me eyeing me with curiosity, as if I had seen TV after a very long time. When toddlers stood in front of the screen or when adults smoked in front of me and blocked my view, I would cuss at them in my head and feel the sudden urge to sweep them all away with just a flick of my finger, so that I could watch whatever I had missed out in my ignorance. I watched as different statements appeared on the news strip running at the bottom of the screen. A statement from Condoleeza Rice competed for attention with a statement from David MIlliband, another statement from Mahmohan Singh tried to overshadow our Yousaf Gillani’s condemnation. It all seemed a rat race, a mess created out of verbal diarrhea. As soon as I boarded my bus for the four-hour long ride to Islamabad, I immediately asked the hostess for a copy of the day’s newspaper- I was suddenly so “thirsty” for updates. The first page was full of Mumbai, not a single column focused on anything else. I tried to concentrate on each and every word that each reporter had written, trying not to miss out even the smallest details given. I never really got the chance to sit down and watch the news like civilized humans, but whatever I got out of the glimpses I caught off the TV and from the news was enough to compel me to create a separate entry to address this issue. I take interest in politics, but I’m not really the kind who likes to engage in heated political debates that usually result in nose bleeds and torn ligaments, I like keeping my views to myself for the sake of convenience and make them public only upon need and circumstances. I’m not going to waste my blog space by analyzing the “political factors” that might have stirred up this fiasco or affected it in any way, I think Larry King, Hamid Mir and Burkha Dutt and many others from the same genre are doing a very fine job doing just that. I just wanted to express myself in relation to this tragedy that unfolded just a few days ago. The name “Deccan Mujhahideen” seems so nascent that it becomes too hard to believe that such a gruesome assault could be launched by newbies on the block. Analysts are debating about possible links with the Al-Qaeda or Lashkar-e-Tayabba, but I don’t want to play the blame game over here. Isn’t it too late to relay the blame from one shoulder to another? Shouldn’t we all be extremely ashamed of ourselves because we fail to understand fundamental values and morals that each religion, whether Islam, Hinduism or Christianity preach? Those who shook the living foundations of Mumbai were humans just like you and me. Then why did they feel the need to carry out such a drastic measure to make their presence known? Was it because they were ill-treated? Ignored? Ostracized? Have we ever bothered to look upon this aspect? Why is that we label them as terrorists immediately after they carry out such attacks and give them so much coverage when we could have easily recognized them as a group and heard their voices before such a large scale dilemma? I’m in no way trying to justify the bombings that took place in Mumbai or around the world. I’m trying to relate the existing prejudices in this world that result in injustice and unfair policies, which do nothing but increase already escalating frustration levels in the human race. First we divide the world and then we wonder why the world’s crumbling apart. Ironic, isn’t it? So many people lost their lives in those bombings. According to the news the attackers targeted foreigners, mainly Israelis, Americans and British. Do I need to say why? I don’t think so. Had it not been for the loop-hole-laden treaty that the British hurriedly signed after World War 2, Palestine wouldn’t be a disputed territory and the residents of a country wouldn’t have to take refuge elsewhere. If the Americans hadn’t attacked Iraq with the totally lame excuse of “weapons of mass destruction”, forget the Mumbai bombings, so many other events around the world wouldn’t have taken place. I’m not the kind who likes to dump the debris of blame on the three common and so-called top favorite culprits of the Muslim world, Israelis, British and Americans. If and only if we all had fulfilled our social responsibilities of tolerance and acceptance in the light of truth, this world could have been such a better place. We wouldn’t have to light candles under portraits of the deceased, we wouldn’t have to dig trenches under our houses or let war sirens break the silence. Everything in the world follows a pattern. Something happens in India and automatically the Indian finger finds Pakistan to point at. Likewise, anything goes wrong in Pakistan, India’s RAW has to be involved. It’s like two children fishing for reasons to get back at each other. Nobody can be blind to the cold war-ish competition that exists between the two nations ever since independence in 1947, but unfortunately some external and internal forces don’t like water flowing smoothly. They just have to throw in pebbles to observe whirlpools. After the Mumbai blasts, an Indian official didn’t waste a single second in concluding that the ISI was involved. The next thing we know is that India is contemplating to place its troops on the Line of Control, in response to which the Pakistani troops are ready to take their positions as well. Sighs. A usual drill that people at both sides of the border are so used to seeing now. To top it all up, petty and crappy statements from the so-called “foster father” United States to remain calm and brush the blame off Pakistan’s shoulder become prevalent in no time. I fail to understand the mess at hand. I don’t think that anyone be it even the world’s so-called super power, the U.S of A, can solve such issues between India and Pakistan, if the two aren’t serious and mature enough about it. 61 years isn’t a very long time, but still, it’s long enough to mature and start looking in the right direction. Blame games are easy to play, but hard to win, since such games have no decisive ends. We also need to understand that there is a major difference between being a Pakistani and an anti-Indian. I’m Pakistani and I have great Indian friends, who I love talking to and spending time with. My deepest sympathies are with the people who have lost their loved ones the blast. On one hand, our religion Islam teaches us not to be racist or prejudiced, yet we have become so myopic in this professed ‘21st century”, it’s sad really. We also need to understand the major difference between a Muslim and a terrorist. A terrorist has no religion, because there isn’t a single religion in the world that justifies unjust killing of innocent civilians.
Such calamities are not to be blamed on one person, group or nation, it’s to be blamed on the entire human race. Such events could be easily prevented if all of us had done our due amount of social work. May Allah Al-Mighty bless us all and show us the right path. Ameen.
I have said enough.

I Belong Here.

I went to visit school. The same silver bus came to pick me up at exactly 7:00 A.M in the morning. I stared at it from my window and my lips curled into a smirk- nothing had changed. I sat on my usual spot, behind the driver, next to the window. Everything was the same, the seat covers, the children, the timings; it was just the driver and my feelings that were different that day. As the bus stopped at a traffic signal, I stared blankly out my window at the red, yellow, and green lights…it felt so weird to be “visiting” school rather than “attending” it now. As the bus neared the school, everything seemed just so surreal. The same guards, the same custodians checking the vehicle up and down, the same Mr. Ravi greeting the buses, and the space spot to park. I meekly got out and made my way to the high school building, trying to avoid the glances of those around me, who thought I was a foreign particle in their school premises. At the high school entrance, I met Mrs. Misra, the epitome of sweetness and friendliness! She greeted me so warmly and inquired me about college and status quo. I was trying to avoid meeting teachers until I had corrected my visual appearance, but I just couldn’t keep myself from meeting her. I dumped my abaya into my brother’s locker and made my way to the office to report as a visitor. Mrs. Preethi Gomez , my high school secretary just smiled at me and told me to report to the office at eight. I met Mrs. Harrison, my VP, and was totally taken aback when she embraced me in a hug! She had always maintained herself as a figure of authority and now coming to know her at this level was quite surprising. Later, I galloped excitedly to the counselor’s office to meet Mrs. Naidoo & Mrs. Priya. After hearty hugs, surprised gasps, and handshakes, I briefed them about my college and about my whereabouts. It was funny how I saw these faces daily at one point in time and now I had to especially visit school to see them. It saddened me greatly. I had just stepped out of the office when I was literally held in siege by Mrs. Sindhu, my lab assistant, Mrs. Yadav, my political science teacher, Dr. Riad, my human biology teacher and Mrs. Saleem, my geometry teacher. I was literally attacked by a flood of fond and warm memories as I met of all them one by one. They were as excited to see me as I was to meet them. It was just amazing! After meeting them all up and promising to drop by into their classrooms, I made my way to Mrs. Lejmi, my chemistry teacher’s room. She was busy working on her computer and my visit came to her as a surprise. Like her usual self, she greeted me with a warm hug and after briefing her about myself, I headed to Mrs. Madani, my Arabic teacher. I wanted to meet each and every one of my teachers, even the ones from middle school. Talking to Mrs. Madani is an experience of its own. Once you start, there’s nothing that can drag you away, even time, but sadly I had to report to the office and it was already getting late. As I made my way down the stairs in the administration building, flashbacks raced through my mind…I remembered the noisy atmosphere around that place when we entered our Arabic class in herds of five to six people, I recalled how I tried climbing the stairs backwards, the frequent trips to the bathrooms downstairs just to avoid Jane Eyre during literature classes…the photo shoots we took when we initially got our gowns, the wilderness that first floor was associated with…I couldn’t help smiling to myself…there were parents sitting in the administration block, there to pay dues and get admission forms, I’m sure they thought I was crazy, looking at each and everything and smiling to myself…but I just didn’t care. As I passed by Mrs. Barretto’s world history class, I glanced around the massive collages of photos adorning the walls…how many times had I tried to look for familiar faces in those collections…how many times I had pressed the palms of my hands and the tips of my fingers on the cool glass cover to find and point at a few familiar faces. I took a deep sigh and exited the administration block…
I was expecting Hisham to pop in any minute. At first, I went around looking for him, expecting him to appear from behind a bush or from under a tree, but to no avail. On my round trip around the school, I visited the library to meet Mrs. Rema, my librarian, a person who had scolded me ten billion times, but still loved me to bits. I had started so many mornings of my school life by greeting her on the library front desk and that day was no different. I can never forget the way she exclaimed when she saw me, “SIDRA!”…I felt so special as she gave me a mighty hug. I inquired about Mrs. Helen, one of the many library assistants, who’d always ask on me like a motherly figure. I heard she had resigned to work at ARAMCO. I had really wanted to meet her, but anyways, I’m happy for her. Seeing that it was almost eight, I ran back to the office. Once there, I started helping them sort the mail out. I heaved the heavy carton from the floor onto the table. It contained letters from the University of Miami. I started taking out stack after stack, sorting them into groups according to grade level. I was surprised to find so many envelopes addressed to people in my class. I separated Ahmad’s, Hina’s, Hisham’s, Naseeha’s, Amir’s, Nawal’s, Hibah’s and mine. As I kept the other mail in neat piles, I got a message from Hisham asking me where I was. I told him about my whereabouts and after five months, I finally got to meet one of my classmates/friends from school! He hadn’t changed at all. The same care-free, I-don’t-give kind of an attitude, disheveled hair and the same smirk on his face. Hisham Siddiqui was one of the most thick-skinned people I had come across in my high school life. But that day was simply amazing. I came to know him at a very different level, I discovered that he was way beyond what I saw him as. It was nice talking to him about the old days- Mrs. Barreto’s history classes, Dr. Riad’s human biology classes and so on and so forth. Sometimes you fail to see what people are really all about and then later you realize what they material they were in one glance. This was something I experienced that day….We went to the canteen, feasted on spring rolls, we went for a walk around the administration building, I engraved “Hisham got into AKU” on a tree in front of the administration building, we explained to everyone that we hadn’t started college yet and how I had gotten rejected by AKU, and Hisham had gotten in on the first merit list, that too on full scholarship covering his tuition and boarding fees. I took pictures of random things- sometimes a bag of trash, sometimes French fries, sometimes the books in the library, while Hisham just rolled his eyes at my hysteria. I confessed to him as to why I had hated him so much and why he had suddenly gained the status of an irritant in my eyes, I’m glad he understood and reciprocated in a positive manner. I’ve never said this to him on his face, but I really appreciate the look of “lack of concern” on his face. It’s a trait I’d like to possess; it comes very handy at times, especially because Sidra Chaudhry sucks at looking all composed. As we were roaming around, we came across a bunch of preschool kids playing in the playground, they all looked so cute running around the colorful slides and swings, so I just had to stop and take a picture with them. And that’s what I exactly did. The kids seemed so uninterested in a camera, they were constantly fidgeting and looking around everywhere except in the direction of the camera. It started to annoy me, I felt like burying them all in the sand with just their heads sticking out. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean that literally. It seemed to be chilly in the morning, so I put on my new sweater and by the afternoon, it was freaking hot! The sun shone with all its might on me, at that moment I felt as if it was following me around just to rub it into my face. Lol. The day ended with me bidding farewell to Hisham, I had hoped we’d meet up when Hibah came later, but that just didn’t happen. But seriously, if he gets into AIR university, insh’Allah, Anam, me and him will have a gala time. Guaranteed.

~*~ This blog entry was supposed to be up on November 3, 2008. But since I couldn’t finish it up on time, I had to delay its publication. But I really wanted it to be up because it spoke in heaps about how it felt to visit something from the old days and feel like life had pushed you back and to feel the immense rush of time as you stand and glance at your past. You sometimes feel like you’ve been tricked into a mirage, that you’re watching something on a projector screen, you feel like you’ll snap out of the surrealism, only to realize that the more you try to come out, the more it pulls you strongly towards itself. You suddenly feel too big for the little things around you, that may be little in size, but colossal in importance…and sometimes you feel too small around the humungous things around you, that maybe huge in size, but so petty in reality. And then you conclude that yes, life goes on and it takes us along with it. Like the rough waves of the sea, and we are left to ponder about our forlorn lives in the noise of the tides…