"Take Care"

The two words didn't mean much to me,
until you said them so lovingly,
that the words sprout wings and lifted me high,
they made me want to dance and reach for the sky.

It wasn't that I didn't care enough before,
it was just your saying that made me wanna do more,
I started using rouge, I stared into the mirror,
Everything was beauty, everything so much clearer.

I dipped myself in wells of rose water,
all of a sudden I seemed to matter,
I used kohl for the first time in life,
I danced to the tunes of the forbidden fife.

My eyes started twinkling, dreams came to and fro,
I was in a land of fairies, magic and galore.
I didn't want to sleep a wink last night,
because the reality was so beautiful, so bright.

My smiles knew no bounds and my tears were all dried,
the joys started dancing, all my sorrows suddenly died,
just because of those two words that you uttered once,
the utterance of which became one, big, mighty bunce.

Glow.

I just dropped by to say,
I've been missing you all day,
your smiles, your tears,
our joys and our gloom,
don't know when again,
I will get to see your face,
I worry I won't see your face,
here I am ripped off solace,
missing, loving and hoping,
that we'd meet again,
someday under the same tree,
sitting on the same wooden bench,
letting the sunshine pour through,
at our faces making them glow,
my hand in yours, your eyes in mine,
and the sun would just shine,
over above us, a silent witness,
the bliss would be just be so timeless,
smiles would erupt again once more,
we'd open all the once closed doors.
I guess I'm dreaming too much,
miracles seldom happen as such.

I hate you.

I hate you, so much,
I don't know how much,
but the hatred's such,
that I feel like breaking apart,
in the hatred that dwells in my heart,
I pray for your smiles,
I try to tame the distance in miles,
but I still hate you, for you make me feel,
so weak, so lost, so petty and so unreal.
I hate you, yes, I hate you, I repeat,
here I'm left, so broken, so incomplete.
You sleep peacefully while I'm up at night,
thinking over what was wrong and what was right?
While you adorn your world with roses of love,
I'm here dealing with thorns and cruel shoves.
I want to wave a final good bye to you,
but I know I won't be able to, because I hate you.
I hate you, I swear, I really, really do,
I just don't know how to let go of you.
The feeling grows, expands, and takes over,
you're no longer my lucky charm, an Irish clover,
you're a poison, filling up my veins,
you're the cause of all my aches and pains.
Please leave, get out of my life, you're a tumor,
you deprive me of strength, solace and humor.
You know the art of killing so well,
you make me want to die than dwell.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
I hate so much that the feeling will grow,
into a helpless case of love so deep,
that it will become so hard for me to keep,
the feelings buried, out they will eventually seep.
Trust me, I hate you with a passion so strong,
I have no idea about how I have hated you so long.
But I hate you, keep this in your mind,
in your heart and please be kind,
and get out of my life.
Because I hate you, I hate you, & I hate you.

Now.

So lost, so beat, so lonely,
so battered, dying so slowly.
It cuts me deeper and deeper,
it buried me deeper and deeper,
in the sands of the past,
in the winds so fast,
I'm left to find my way,
from first to the last.
I'm lost, I'm broken,
my solace robbed & stolen,
my heart ripped and crushed,
my soul dead and ambushed.

Respite.

I decided to do something different today. Spend some time with myself in public. To experience getting lost in a whirlpool of bustling activity. I made my way through different patients and their attendants to find a place for myself in the middle of the waiting area for patients in the Orthopedic department. I looked around- to my left was a woman lying on the couch, three attendants crouched over her, trying to make sure she was okay. In front, I saw a man arguing with someone on the phone, begging the other to give him a chance to explain. To my right, sat two kids, who kept playing with each other...giving each other high fives, laughing when the other missed and trying to climb over the back of the seat. I sat there trying to absorb it all in me. I stared at the wall clock in front of me...it was 12:45 P.M. There was a lot of time before dissection started. I let my head roll back and fixed my gaze at the ceiling. I tried to busy myself in counting the number of tiles. Then I started scrutinizing the light fixtures. While I was busy trying to count the number of dust particles on each little bulb, a middle-aged lady came and sat beside me. I was totally oblivious to her presence until she initiated a conversation. It started with, "Kya aap doctor hain? Ya yehan parhti hain?" (Are you a doctor here? Or do you study here?) After I answered her question for her, the conversation just kept rolling. Before I knew it, she told me about her four sons, who were becoming engineers, her sister's daughter, who was her future daughter-in-law and her house in F-10. Before I got up to leave, she smiled at me and said, "God bless you betay." I smiled back meekly. Sometimes this is all you need to feel better.

I know, I don't know.

I don't know a thing. Or maybe I do, I don't know really. I'm sitting there in a corner, sulking...sobbing over what once was or maybe over what I wanted so badly to happen...each tear gliding down my cheeks and getting lost in the creases of my sweatshirt. I want it to rain so badly. I want it to rain cats and dogs, bulls and buffaloes, chickens and roosters. I want everything to be drenched, soaked and so completely wet. Why? I swear, I don't know why. I want strong winds to blow outside my window, so that the peaceful looking leaves stop sticking their tongues out at me and my restless soul, so that they too get a taste of the storm. I want the sky to turn a very dark purple, the stars to twinkle so bright like little diamonds studded in the night, I want the clouds to let it all out tonight. There's so much more that I want, but I just don't know. I want to arrange shards of broken glass in concentric circles and walk all over, starting from the outermost circle inwards...the crunch of the glass under my bare feet echoes in my ears, the pain is too familiar to feel anymore...I walk, leaving trails of crimson behind me...I hold out a candle in the palm of my hand and as the wax melts down into my skin, I don't feel a thing. I don't know why. It's probably because heat can't compete with the fumes that reside within me. I walk and walk until I reach the center, where I stand alone, staring out into nothingness. Things are too bright. They hurt my eyes. I don't know why. I try to shield my eyes using my arms...the candle falls from my hand...it all starts from a flame...the next thing I know is that I'm standing in a hoop of fiery flames. It feels so much like home. So much warmth, so much love, such a fiery embrace...the flames come closer and closer, enveloping me from all sides. I welcome them with open arms. Trust me, I don't know why. Amidst the flames, I see a face. It's yours I think. I smile. My eyes twinkle, not with glow, but with the waters pushing to come out. But tears don't fall. I don't know why. Maybe because they know there's no point in trying to diminish my family of flames. What are you? A mirage? Illusion? Hallucination? Thoughts of a crazy mind? A hoax by the wind? I really don't know. But I know just one thing, you are 'someone'.

Dark.

I'm running, I'm running in a tunnel dark and wide,
I'm lonely, I'm alone, with nobody by my side.
I'm left to wander aimlessly in jungles amidst the trees,
to blow empty kisses into the cruel, cold breeze.

Breaking Pencils.

I'm left here to break pencils,
over your sudden loss,
to plaster my face with murk,
every date on my calendar, a little cross.

The snap with each breaking pencil,
synchronous with my heart beat,
slowly, stealthily, echoing in me,
as they say, love was never an easy feat.

Jingling keys, songs on the radio,
sitting and counting stars on the patio,
distant memories, now I am left to pick,
wait and wait some more with every tick.

All Inside.

Crying out loud was never hard,
it was keeping it all in,
that has scarred me.
burned me from within.

To smile in this sea of people,
to laugh hollow laughs,
To show just one side of me,
struggling to cover the darker half.

Gathering the tears on my lashes,
in jars of blood and flesh,
to walk over shards of glass,
watching every wound refresh.


As darkness falls and takes over,
I cover up myself in sheets of dark,
just to become part of the night,
so mysterious, so very stark.

I undulate with the waves of fate,
sometimes up and mostly down,
becoming a dead fish, nothing more,
either go with the flow, or just drown.

Pain is my friend, tears my comrade,
gnawing at my heart is regret, so innate,
I have turned into a stone,
with nothing, but me alone.

I bleed inside, nobody sees,
I cry inside, nobody feels.
I break into bits,
fluttering in the breeze.

Fifty.

1. I suck at looking composed. If it's there, it’s on my face, period.

2. I love collecting memorabilia- broken glasses, empty ink pens, signed tissue papers, cards, bookmarks, whatever, I like storing it all.

3. I still wear my fourth grade watch with pride.

4. I hate smoking with a passion and can’t stand it at all.

5. I hate almost everyone at first before starting to like them.

6. I don’t know anything about music, I just listen to whatever I want, so never ask me about my favorite band or singer, I don’t know any names or songs.

7. When I was young, I used to inject orange juice into my soft toys.

8. I fear stagnation- physical, mental, emotional, intellectual, whatever kind.

9. Loss of control and helplessness scares me too.

10. To me, every moment is a memory and every second is history in the making.

11. I love having heart-to-heart conversations with people, it helps me get to know myself and of course the other person.

12. In my opinion, crying on someone’s shoulder is the best way to detox yourself.

13. I love talking to myself; only I can tolerate my stories.

14. I wanted to be the prime minister of Pakistan when I was in second grade.

15. I really want to write an autobiography.

16. I love letters and emails. They make me feel so very loved.

17. Photography isn’t a hobby, it’s a lifestyle.

18. I can go hungry for more than 12 hours without feeling a thing.

19. I hate coffee; the mere smell makes me gag.

20. I often make a very big fool out of myself.

21. I love reminiscing about the old days.

22. I feel too blessed to be true at times, alhamdullilah.

23. I experience sudden outbursts of creativity oozing out of myself.

24. I give off very strong vibes.

25. Shopping is an amazing analgesic.

26. I hate getting late to any place, even a family dinner for that matter.

27. I hate tablets. They should have syrups for every illness in the world. Panadol always gets stuck in my throat and I have to break it into half to ingest it. Yes, I know I'm emo.

28. I fear pain a LOT.

29. I love spending time with myself.

30. I'm a walking-and-talking disaster.

31. I can be extremely shy that I often amaze myself.

32. I try to be extra-nice to those I hate, I don't know why.

33. My definition of a good day is when you have tears in your eyes from all the bouts of laughter.

34. My parents are my hommies. lol.

35. I often don't see the 'point' in things.

36. I love walking in the rain.

37. I love falling asleep while listening to the rain outside my window.

38. I take people a little too seriously.

39. My revenge goes as far as blocking and deleting a person from my msn and/or Facebook :P

40. I enjoy shopping for cleaning agents/detergents.

41. My favorite chore is washing dishes. I swear, I'm serious.

42. I can't ignore. I simply can't. Especially people.

43. I experience mood crashes.

44. I'm quick to judge and quick to change my judgement too.

45. Everything and everyone has the potential to irritate me.

46. It's easier for me to express my hatred for someone rather than my love for them.

47. I wish I had the power to "tune" things out.

48. It would be so cool if we had a "Ctrl + Z" in life.

49. I either talk too much or not at all. There's no middle way to it.

50. You still don't know so much about me. :)

=)

It's my birthday today. I'm going to write all about it later, insh'Allah.

It Doesn't Matter.

It doesn't seem to matter,
if I die or I shatter.
It doesn't seem to matter,
if I break and my pieces scatter.
It doesn't seem to matter,
amidst the noise and the clatter,
It doesn't seem to matter,
like I'm a rough piece or tatter.
It doesn't seem to matter,
no matter how much life batters,
It doesn't seem to matter,
for I'm empty as a platter,
It doesn't seem to matter,
as tears silently patter,
It doesn't seem to matter,
for sorrow nurtures me like a mater,
It doesn't seem to matter,
as I drown in the murky water.
It doesn't seem to matter,
It doesn't seem to matter at all.

Vignette; Caged Stones.

So much caged inside now,
that it becomes so hard to point,
the cause of pain, the reason to smile,
every attempt a loss, so very futile.
reaching out is a struggle of its own,
easier to sit and silently turn into stone.

Vignette: Color.

Colors say so much,
whispering into the air,
spreading a little love,
a little envy,
injecting some pain,
extracting some chagrin,
chugging so much life,
while sucking so much of it out.

Vignette: Pure.

It's when I see such smiles,
that I forget my own scars,
the weight of life seems lighter,
suns dimmer and moons ever brighter,
such glow in the eyes,
devoid of greed or lies.
with so much warmth this fills,
ineffable by any pen or quills.

Vignette: Wait.

I still wait for you in these rains,
amidst all the fire, amidst the pains,
I try to pacify my restless little heart,
the space between us splitting me apart.
You don't know how it's like to wait,
ask me, it has become part of my fate.

My pieces & mich.

Dear Life,

Sometimes I want to be a kid again...Laugh at Barney's lame jokes, help figure out Blue's clues, gloat over Dora's successes and cheer for the Power Rangers as they pounded their enemies. But here I am, in some lalaland, thinking to myself about you as you unfold in front of me. I don't want to hate you. But sometimes you end up giving me reasons to start doubting you, scrutinizing you. You make me want to sit down in a corner and sulk at times. On some days, I want to pick up all the colors of the universe and paint the sky with such bright colors that my own eyes would ache at the chilli powder red, turmeric golds and sapphire blues. Life, I know I'm not making sense, but trust me, I'm doing just what you do to me at times. This sounds erratic, yes, I know that too. Just like the way you can be. People walk in and out of you as I witness their footprints engraved in the deepest crevices of my heart, as they come and as they leave. Each of them with a unique story behind them, lurking behind them like a loyal shadow, which they cast on others without even realizing at times. There are so many songs about you, so many quotes, so many stories, but I have still failed to understand you. I wonder why. I'm often lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering about you, that's just how much pain you give me. You even deprive me of my sleep, one of my few outlets from this frustrated place. Sometimes I try to turn myself to stone, so that I can withstand your blows- one by one. Each night I tell myself before closing my eyes that you will become friends with me, some day or the other. I try to lull my fears to sleep before I can fall asleep myself. But you have your ways, don't you? A minute, a second, nothing's to be relied upon. You grab me from the back, pin me to the ground & suffocate me with an overdose of you. My eyes have given up, they know there's no use filling pails of water over you. You are so cruel, that's why. You won't listen, won't budge. It's like you've drawn a big, fat red circle around me. I can't step out of it or over it. I just keep rotating on the inside and watch helplessly as you shower others with so much and flirt around with them. I want to smile, but my smiles just out to be so hollow, so incomplete, like dark half moons, floating aimlessly in night skies. Are you all about pain, misery, longing, broken dreams, scars and tears? Or is there more to you that you just fail to show me? I'm blinded or maybe blind-folded. I just don't know. You know what I feel like doing at times? I feel like running through jungles of barren trees barefooted and experiencing the jolt of pain as each stone, thorn and broken branch lunges towards me. I want to close my eyes and inhale the cold winds that beat against my face as I charge amidst the silent forest around me. I don't want to stop, even my useless tears fail to bring me to a halt. The tears do blur my vision, I can hardly make out what lies ahead- a tall tree or a familiar face with arms wide open. I just keep running, each thud wildly echoing in my ears as I try to reach out to the mirage overhead. Then I realize that it was just you, waiting to devour me with your arms wide open, deceiving me into thinking it was a harmless and warm embrace. And I let you do it. Because I know there's no way I can step out of the red circle around me. I know I will blow up into a million pieces, each bit reaching the furthest corners of the globe- too difficult for anyone to be put together again. You push me into such depths into oceans of doubt and thought that I struggle to resurface. For every splash that my arms and legs make against the icy waters, a wave of dread envelops me from top to bottom. I try to keep my head up, the only sign of life in me. But you pull me back in, you are tied to me like a heavy rock. You don't rest until you've seen me go blue in face while trying to reach a treatise with you. You love it, don't you? You get a high each time you do this to me. Nonetheless, I still let you do it. The reason, I don't know yet. When you've had enough with playing around with me, you drag me by my shoulders to the shore. I'm wet against the burning sands and you make sure that each inch of my skin experiences the pain of burns as you pull me along with you. Then when we reach a point, you just dump me with the sea shells, like a big oil spill. Left there to dirty the surroundings with my mere presence. My shivers, cries, cyanotic face, quivering lips don't affect you. You smile, because you've done your job. You have done it well. There I am- still shivering in the cold wind, with my knees drawn closer to my chin, my chin resting on my knees, hugging myself, trying to keep myself warm. The specks of sand stick to me, layering me with another sheet of guilt. I suddenly want the sands to suck me into them. But I know you wouldn't want anything to go my way. As I try to bury myself in the sands, there you come again. Pick me up, shuffle me in the air, so weightless for you I am. You toss me into a cloud. So foolish of me that I thought I'd be living there forever, that you'd leave me alone and forgive me for bearing with you for so long. I collide into a meshwork of what apparently was cotton, but it was a sea of broken mirrors. There was pain, then tingling, then numbness. A cycle, yes, like a very familiar cycle of burning, melting and decaying. I couldn't help but smile as I witnessed a million pieces of me fly around to adorn this very beautiful world that I so badly wanted to bury behind me.

Thank you for bearing me for so long.

S.C

So Incomplete.

So empty and so devoid,
like empty cans or banana peels,
left over the mantle to rot,
that's how you make me feel,
so hollow, so incomplete.

Under the hue of dancing flames,
I burn a different color each day,
melting into an amalgam of decay,
that's just how the cycle repeats,
leaving me so dead, so incomplete.


The heart's all too numb,
to feel anything anymore,
it's frozen, it's gone till the core,
so poisoned with nothing but deceit,
I'm alone to feel bleak, so incomplete.

Blinding lights screaming out,
obliterating all the possible routes,
from outside the darkness and into the day,
I'm left to cry over my defeat,
so lost, so deprived, so incomplete.

Height of Boredom. :)

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Yes. sighs. After a four year old's favorite cousin.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
ummm, Saturday?

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
It passes, I guess.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAL?
A good sandwich & nothing beats desi food.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
No.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
I don't think I'd be cool enough :P

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
As they say "I'm fluent in sarcasm".

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Umm, yeah.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Lol. I am paranoid about jumping off my bed, talk about bungee jumping! :P

10. FAVORITE CEREAL?
Has to be none other than Honey Bunches of Oats- Honey Roasted. :)

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Actually, no. I miss my sneakers. =/

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Chocolate Chip, Praline 'n Cream, Butterscotch, Gold Ribbon, and Coconut-flavored.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
It maybe the eyes, the shoes, the face, the bag, the ring- keeps changing.

15. RED OR PINK?
A bit of both.

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
That I love myself a little too much maybe. And I try to cherish everything and get a little too carried away with it at times.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
Ah, please don't get me started. They all know who they are.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST?
I wouldn't mind :P

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
What pants? I'm in a shalwaar kameez right now. It's a white shalwaar btw, with golden flip flops.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna-title track. =/

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
I'd always be out of the box. :) But I'd want to be black, it overwrites every other color.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Freshly done laundry, roses, jasmine, henna, Johnson's baby lotion. I'm very sensitive to smells, most smells get to my head.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
A college friend.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Tennis and cricket.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Dark brown, I think.

28. EYE COLOR?
Brown.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
Yes. Transparent ones & I wear glasses too :P

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
This is a tricky question with a very long answer. I love french fries, cheese sandwiches, spring rolls, brownies, chocolate fudge cakes, mango milkshakes, desi food and so much more. :)

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy endings.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
A part of Slumdog Millionaire.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Navy blue KAMEEZ :P

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter. <3

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
I believe hugs work wonders.

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
Not many.

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
Most :P

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Lets see. Lipincott Biochemistry, Guyton Physiology, Laiq's Histology, KLM's Embryology etc etc. :)

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
Geo News.

42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)?
Rain, children laughing, breeze, bangles, birds and of course silence.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Neither. But I like "It's your Birthday" by Beatles. lol

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
England. 7 hours away from Saudi.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I'm not too sure. This is something I want feedback about.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Jubail, Saudi Arabia.

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
Nobody in particular.

48. HOW DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE/SIGNIFICANT OTHER?
I haven't met anyone THAT special as yet.

Debris.

I had to climb walls to reach out to you,
to step over bridges of fires and hue,
just to tame the distance that wildly grew,
kept widening, just between me and you.
I tried to keep up but I always failed,
my heart's fondest wishes forever veiled.
For every step forward, I kept walking back,
to areas of darkness, no light, just black.
I wish you knew what it was like to wait,
amidst so much pain and loss, at night so late.
I want you to feel the way it feels when,
what it's like to reel in so much chagrin.
I had to walk on embers of broken trust,
where everything I touched turned to dust.
Each smile from the past was another dagger,
each thought, each image causing me to stagger.
In the midst of darkness, in cages of solitude,
I'm sorry, but you won't know how I endured.
Sometimes it isn't the loss, that's the pain,
but the remains of what was once a gain.
The time has come when tears don't matter,
when you silently watch as I slowly shatter,
into so many pieces, fragments and bits,
I succumb to the series of blows and hits.
As I sink deeper and deeper into the quicksand,
I try one last time, to offer you my hand,
but the metallic gaze that you award me with,
is enough to bore me deep into the grit.
I want to express my deepest regards,
for at least being there to witness my shards,
you don't know how much that means to me,
thank you for turning me into nothing more than debris.

Mirror, Mirror.

Around 2 AM on a Saturday, I felt like crap. I don't know why, I don't know how. I just felt like crap. It was pitch dark, the electricity was gone again, something I was getting used to now. I had been studying physiology and all of a sudden I felt like my own systems were betraying me so badly. I tried to stare aimlessly into the darkness around, letting the illuminance of the heater guide me to finding a place for myself. I sat down in front of it, legs curled under myself. I stared hard into the orange flames that danced in front of me. One by one, trying to impress me with their skills. I looked at the metallic rods behind which the fire dwelled, how hot they'd be? Enough to burn skin in and out, bring the underlying flesh to surface. The heat on my cheeks kept increasing, but I seemed totally oblivious to it. I just wanted to stare pointlessly into the flames. I rested my hands neatly on lap, trying so hard to look composed, but as one of my friends rightly said, "Sidra Chaudhry sucks at looking composed". I clasped my hands together in a futile attempt to keep my insides from shaking. But sometimes you feel cold to the very core of being regardless of all the summer's heat and all the warmth of the world's suns. I stare up towards the ceiling in hopes that maybe the waters in my eyes will divert, but I was so wrong. I tried to roll my eyeballs, to prevent the tears from falling. But rebellious tears I tell you, they find their own ways. As the first drop fell on my burning cheeks, I felt something break deep, vey deep inside. Crack. Like a scratched mirror, that could no longer tell "who was the fairest one of all?"...

Is it not?

When I carried five kilos of onions and another five kilos of potatoes from the markaz back to my house, I actually felt what it was like to carry the burden of a lifetime with you. As the polythene bag handles bored into my skin and when my fingers were sore due to the cold wind and the heavy bags, I felt like no other. It wasn't just the weight of onions and potatoes, it was so much more, but I just couldn't put a name to it. As I walked down the streets, I felt like I was walking in a gel..so slow, struggling to walk faster, walk smoother...As the sun started to go down and the entire sector became a tadbit darker, it felt like everything was just leaving me so alone little by little. The cold winds adamant to pull the dupatta off my head, the heavy bags of groceries, the weight of a million effervescent thoughts colliding in my head, the dust-laden streets which seemed to lead me to a place I was supposed to accept as home. I see a huge pile of dry leaves right ahead and I have the sudden urge to throw off my groceries in the middle of the street and jump into the heap...to keep stomping every little leaf until my lungs would collapse and my breath would fail to come to normal...I wanted to grind each leaf to a gazillion fragments, picture each leaf as a major source of pain in my life, hammer it out of my life, excise the tumor. But unfortunately, I couldn't do that, I could just gaze at the dry leaves, which rustled against the dusty road, and pretend as if they didn't exist. I shuffled the grocery bags around, trying to calm my screaming muscles, but I failed miserably. Who said pain was only physical? My aching deltoids were nothing compared to the massive aches that I was encountering deep inside. I don't even know whether it was my heart or my mind that was aching. But there was pain. I just knew it. As I said earlier, I just couldn't put a finger on it. I tried to divert my mind. I concentrated on the sound of my own footsteps on the road. The silence around made it so much easier to do that. Each "thud" felt like a little betrayal to me. I was walking as if I knew where I was headed, but I didn't. I was pretending all this time. Everything was so wrong, so alien, so strange. When I reached home, I climbed the stairs, dumped the groceries in the kitchen, then I literally dragged myself to my bedroom. I was sick and tired and super-saturated. I threw myself on my bed. I lay there for ten minutes staring at the ceiling. The fan stared back at me and I wondered whether it ever got fed up of witnessing everything from up there, at such a distance. Things blurred, so I just closed my eyes. That was the best I could do. I once read, you can close your eyes to things you don't want to see, but you can't close your heart to things you don't want to feel. Funny how quotes can so aptly describe your condition, but do nothing to improve it. I reached out to my side drawer and pulled out my scrapbook. Its incomplete-ness bugged me. I had planned so much- to fill it up, I had collected leaves, pressed flowers, cut out templates, and piled up accessories to fill up the empty pages. But save the first few pages, the rest of the book was staring back at me with a blankness so penetrating, that it made my hands tremble. I flipped through the first page- graduation, the love, the drama, the tears, the farewells, my parents, my friends, the pain of parting ways..second page, summer fun, eating at china grill on July 20, a day of revelations. Once happy events seemed to have a little fragment of pain attached to them in some way or the other. Pain was so inevitable. Fearing needles, blood tests, and driving out of the fear of pain was pointless. Pain still got to you. It had its own ways. It could sneak up behind your back, enter through a small nick in your soul, grow inside, pulsate, put you in a fix, make you want to cry all your body fluids out. I passed my hand over the shells that I had collected from RT beach before leaving Saudi for college...Each shell, a little bump under my fingers, felt so cool and so tranquil. They had been relocated with me. I had deprived them of their abode- the warm beachy sands of Arabia. I was cruel. I had picked them up from the depths of the sands, stored them in a used plastic cup, washed them again and again until I was sure there wasn't a single algae stuck to them. I had subjected them to so much. Stuck on a page in my scrapbook now amidst glitter-laden and smiley faces, the shell looked so out of place...like me. I closed the book shut. Everything seemed to be going through a little tragedy.

A million moons could do no good,

to lighten up my world,

what to talk about those dainty stars.

One by one each candle collapsed,

failing to show me the way,

it was me and darkness, for eternity.

Feb 1, 2009

Whatchamacallit. :)

My BP would be so under control if it wasn't for Facebook. I tell you, technology can be really ugly. Today was such a busy, busy Saturday. I woke up at 8:30 on a WEEKEND! After literally pushing breakfast down my esophagus, I decided to do myself a favor and start studying. Alhamdullilah, I managed to study a lot today, my head feels..giddy? =/ lol. Anyways, the SPECIAL part of the day was when I got a call from Saudi, from one of my favorite people- NAJWA. :) I seriously wanted to FLY all the way to RT and give her a bear hug for remembering me and calling me up just to check on how I was doing. Najwa, if you're reading this, I love you so much. We talked about our third grade issues, about old teachers, about the good old days and whenever her laughter would erupt through the phone, I'd feel like I was sitting next to her on the yellow benches that we used to sit on during recess back in school. It's incredible how a ten-twenty minute international call can make you smile through out your entire day, until your jaws start hurting from the exercise. Oh by the way, I broke a glass today. I know this sounds so abrupt and random, but currently I'm too sleepy to be making sense of anything. I did the most bizarre things today for real. I picked up so many grocery bags up and down until I felt my legs were going to revolt against me any minute. I watched news today after such a long time. I talked to my dad and my brother after a whole week or two. I bitched about people with my dad. I got into an argument with my brother over skype. I saw pictures of my Saudi home, my kitchen, my lounge, my dining room. I underlined more than half of my embryology book. I wrote down a whole nonsensical poem in 20 minutes in response to a classmate's note to cheer her up. I sacrificed a big box of cheesy-cheese flavored pringles by giving them to my kiddo cousin, who adorned the carpet with bits and pieces of them. I tripped over a box of detergent, TWICE. I read my wall-to-walls with old friends. I sat down and talk to myself a little bit. When I got the chance, I shed a few tears. Then I wiped them and felt better. I jumped on my bed until I was sure I was going to break the bed or myself into pieces. I went out on the terrace and looked down at the street, there was nothing interesting, just a grumpy guard who stared back. I stepped into a puddle of water on my freshly cleaned terrace and got myself wet. I opened up old emails and read them. They all brought a smile across my face and glint of moisture to my eye. But I decided to thank God for the wonderful times and the wonderful people He had put in my life.

I had a mad, mad day.