Listen to me, but not with thy ears...

Let's do something. Let's turn over a new leaf. Let's start a new beginning. Let's try- at least...

Look at them. Look inside their eyes. Although, their faces adorn a mask but their eyes are uncovered. Their faces, their veneers, their luring words might deceive you. But their eyes won't. They are pretty much helpless when it comes to those two wondrous mirrors that reflect what is inside and not the outside. They might paste a warm smile on their lips. They might dip their venomous words into honey before they pour it into your ears. They might stroke your wounded body gently feigning to soothe your pains while seeking the nerve that aches most, in effect. But they fail to conceal what their eyes persist on revealing. Even the eyes of a liar speak the truth, my love. Why don't you do yourself a favour? Stop lulling yourself into believing what you believe. Don't you realise how hollow your faith in them is? Trying knocking it and all you will ever hear is echoes that scream emptiness. Untie the blindfold of hopes that you wear. Untie it, my dear. And you will realise the gravity of the matter. Don't trust my words for they may seem too bitter for your tase but trust your eyes at least. Stop shunning the reality away. Realise how grave your mistake is. They are magicians, my love. They are playing tricks on you. It is but an illusion and nothing more. You are being fooled. Look into their eyes and tell me. Tell me honestly. Do you not see the contemptuous pity? Do you not see the scorn in those eyes. The twinkle that you take for affection is anything but that. It is a sneer. It is a smirk. The treacly words that you hear are but a poisonous potion for you. It is binding your ears into a spell so that you may hear what they want you to hear. So that when you turn around they can laugh at you like madmen while all you will hear in background will be seldom sobs of sympathy. They don't commiserate with you, my love. They pity you. They  mock you. Stop running towards them. It's about time you started running in the opposite direction. Stop ending up at their doorsteps in search for a salve for your wounds. But they tend to your wounds with such compassion, you say? Compassion? They tend to your wounds with poison! Compassion, you say! You are dying. Let me help you at least. Let me tend to your wounds. Let me heal you. Let me comfort you. Let me save you. There still might be some time. I might just find the right antidote for you. Let me try at least. Let me save you. You are dying. My precious, you are dying.

Rain is...

Well, it depends...

*smiles*

Yes, it depends.

I had an awesome day today, Alhumdolillah. We went to BJ's today. (Oh! Notice that it is BJ and not Bj. There is a difference... of 7 years between the two *grins*) It rained cats and dogs. I just mentioned in a recent post that rain makes me feel like a kid again and so it did today. I felt like having shed 10 years off my age. I got wet in the rain. It got so so cold. My ears started aching because of the cool wind. Ah! It was wonderful (the mausam, of course, not the pain). I rode a bicycle after so many years. Um... I was a little scared because I had  sort of forgotten how to ride a bicycle but hey! I did not fall. Great, no? Sam has become so badmaash. He made fun of me. He exclaimed, "Aani, agar aap gadha gari wale se bhi race lagayn na tu woh jeet jayega..!!" *insert a sheepish smile here* We played foosball. BJ and ami think we play foosball like junglees. I tried convincing them that "aisa he khailte hain" but they refused to agree. We had raspberry and orange ice lolly. And.... I will be twenty-one this November. Haha.

I'm loving it. Thank you Allah saa'in.

Realisation

Self-righteousness was not at all a bad concept- only until... *smiles* Never mind.

Your pain is...

Your pain is the breaking of the shell
that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break,that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder
at the daily miracles of your life, your pain
would not seem less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your
heart, even as you have always accepted
the seasons that pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity
through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the
physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink
his remedy in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided
by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips,
has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter
has moistened with His own sacred tears.

--Khalil Gibran 

The Awakening

That is such a melodramatic title. *smiles*

However, I am only referring to the awakening of the artist in me, whom I had lulled into slumber unknowingly. Although the term artist is a little too fancy for me. I just like drawing things and I can fend a few brush strokes here and there for myself. I am not a pro although I would have loved to have been that. Sigh. Wrong choices mess up your entire life. Sigh. *here starts my whining again* *smiles* I don't miss even the slightest chance that allows me to whimper. Nashukri bandi. Ch! Ch! Anyways so I dusted the neglected little artist and tried to come up with something with my yawning rusty joints. I wanted to make an oil painting but then I found out that I was out of linseed oil so I sufficed with a pencil sketch.

This is what I sketched today while it was raining. Uff the rain! It was so beautiful. Sigh. I lied when I said I don't like rain anymore. It was a blatant lie. Rain makes me feel like a kid again. I love rain and it loves me too. *winks*

Dear Bj

I miss you Bj. You pa'ghal! I miss you so much. Come back. Speaking on the stupid phone is not enough. I want to see you Bj. It has been so long. I miss those fights that we used to have. I miss beating you up. I miss running after you. I miss screaming at you, banging your doors. I miss how angry you used to make me. Remember... the last time you came, and you annoyed me and I was not talking to you and crying. You came to me to cheer me up. It took you so long to make me smile. I am crying again Bj, this time because I miss you. Don't you miss me? You idiot. Come back. Hey when you got married, we had so much fun remember. Your wife's stupid. I am sorry but she is. I was watching the old albums. And now I am weeping. All because of you! Pa'ghal! Sighs.

I miss you.

Love,

Your maasi.

Baraf paani

Well, technically speaking, I do not have much to write about. Nevertheless, I am here out of boredom. However, my mind is not empty of thoughts. Oh yes, I have hundreds of thoughts playing baraf paani inside my head. I miss playing these games baraf paani, kho-kho, chupan chupai.... *smiles* I am thinking...

******************************************
Human beings are the most bizarre of all living species. You can never- N-E-V-E-R, know everything about them. Not even if you have grown up in front of them or they have in front of you. There will always be surprises, some pleasant while some not so pleasant at all. There can be little things, their opinions, their wishes, their thoughts, et cetera.

When Z. spoke about eemandari in a nearly slighting manner, I was disappointed. According to Z., honest people live a tension filled life. That is so not true. There is also a thing called self-satisfaction and what 21 years of my little life have revealed upon me is the fact that contentment is far more long lasting than happiness. And anyways, is this world the only thing that matters? How subtly have we become so materialistic. I know Z. is an honest person despite these thoughts but, it was sad.

*******************************************
I like commenting. But I write such loooong comments. Kahaniyan likhti hon puri. *smiles*

*******************************************
Can two narcissists exist together in a symbiotic manner?

*******************************************
Can people really spend their entire lives compromising the entire time? And while doing that, can they be happy? Can compromises and happiness co-exist? *smiles*

*******************************************
People are so stupid. They forward any and every idiotic message they receive without even thinking for a second over it. Should they be some utterly lame chain messages with ridiculous warnings or some disgusting political propagandas. I just received one against pathans. Hellow! They are the ones who are being killed. What the hell! Who ate your brains? Stupid people!

*******************************************
You know what Compassion Fatigue is? It is what you and I are suffering from. It is what all of us have been plagued with.

*******************************************
I don't have many close friends, I have to confess. Yes, there are quite a few people whom I laugh and giggle with but close friends... that I only have four. *smiles* But I do get a little cynical about the sincerity of this friendship at times. I often am forced to believe that the flow of sincerity is one-sided. Ami jani used to say to me: "Doston ko kabhi azma'ish mein nahin dalna chahye... Doston ko azmana nahi chahye..." She is right. But despite everything, I love them. Yes, I have not been very lucky with the type of friends I have but I love them. End of story.

********************************************
I have lost my appetite. Not that I had a very good one before having lost it now. LOL. However, I do not like anything. Something must be wrong with my taste buds. My mother has to run after me to make me eat (figuratively speaking, of course). I eat as slow as a turtle. I do not like very hot food. I sense no taste when I eat hot food. I like it mildly warm. I just eat because I have to. And there are people who live to eat. I act a little ungrateful at times which is a bad thing. At times, when I am busy throwing my tantrums regarding food this thought strikes me hard and I immediately thank Allah for everything and apologize to Him for being so ungrateful.

*********************************************
I am missing a lot of people. Some have ceased to exist any longer while others... Others have ceased being the way they used to be. Good ol' times. I miss them.

*********************************************
And I started the post by saying that I do not have much to write about. Yeah, right.

Mere humdum, mere dost...

I was all pepped up to come up with a "happy" post but I am afraid it doesn't seem likely anymore. Oh and by the way, I shall tell you something. It is a lot easier to write up a somber, gloomy, bitter or a stingy post. It is very hard to come up with a post that is happy and a fair piece of writing simultaneously- at least for me it is. Even when I am not sad I can write fair expressions that howl melancholy. The reason being that for some reason sadness appeals me. I find it attractive- beautiful, in fact. This does not mean in any way at all that I like being sad. No, I merely said that for some inexplicable reason I feel drawn towards sad things. Where as happiness, is sort of elusive and a little eccentric as well. *smiles*

Anyways, this is a nazm by Faiz Ahmed Faiz that I first read when I was pretty young and even though I could hardly understand it, I fell in love with it.

Gar mujhey is ka Yaqee'n ho, mere Humdum, mere Dost

Gar mujhey is ka Yaqee'n ho keh tere Dil ki thakan

Teri Aankho'n ki udaasi, Tere seene ki Jalan

Meri Dil'joi...... mere pyar se mit jaye gi

Gar mera Harf-e-Tassalli woh Dawa ho jis se

Jee uthey phir tera Ujra howa Baynoor Dima'gh

Teri Peshani se Dhul jain yeh Tazleel ke Daa'gh

Teri Beemar Jawani ko shifa ho jaye

Gar mujhey is ka Yaqee'n ho, mery Humdam mery Dost...!

Roz-o-shab, sham-o-sehar main tujhey Behlata Rahoo'n

Main tujhey Geet sunata Rahoo'n... halkey... shiree'n

Aabsharo'n ke... Baharoo'n ke... Chaman zaro'n ke Geet

Aamd-e-subh ke... mehtaab ke... sayyaro'n ke Geet

Tujh se main husn-o-muhabbat ki Hiqayaat kahooN

Kaisey maghroor haseenao'n key Barfaab se Jism

Garm hatho'n ki Hararat se Pighal jatey hen

Kaisey ik chehrey key thehrey hoye manoos Naqoosh ,

Dekhtey Dekhtey yaklakht Badal jatey hain

Kis tarah Aarz-e-mehboob ka shaffaf Belou'r

Yak-ba-Yak Bada-e-Ahmar se Dehhak jatay hain

Kaisey Gulchee'n key liye jhukti hai khud Shakh-e-Gulab

Kis tarah Raat ka Ewaan mehak jata hai

Yuunhi Gata raho'n, Gaata raho'n teri khatir

Geet Bunta raho'n, Betha raho'n teri khatir

Per mere Geet, Tere Dukh ka mudawa hee nahi

Naghma Jarrah nahi, Moonis-o-Ghamkhaar sahi

Geet Nashtar to nahi, Marham-e-Aazaar sahi

Tery Aazaar ka Chara nahi, nashtar key Siwa

Aur yeh Saffak maseeha mery Qabzey me nahi

Is Jaha'n key kisi Zeeruuh key Qabzey me nahi

Haan magar...

Tery Siwa, Tery Siwa, Tery Siwa...!!

You are such a cry baby!

A single day at work was adequate for me to realise that I cannot take this. I just don't have it in me. Nope! I don't!

I cannot work! I was looking for an internship and applying here and then there and then everywhere. Haye! The market is so saturated, just getting an internship has become a tough nut. How would it be like to find a job- Don't even want to think about it. Uh. Tsk. Tsk. Let me tell you something- I just realised that the entire country is being run on a "source". God! You need a source for everything. What the hell happened to the "chiriya" named merit? Anyways, so I got into an audit firm. Sigh. Don't even ask how the experience was. I walked in to the office in the morning and left in the evening deciding in my heart never to return here again. Audit Firms are SO boring! B-o-r-i-n-g! The people who work their are not people. A day's trip to a firm scraped off my hardened bruises and made me repeat the same old sentences for a zillionth time. "Mein yeh sab kion kar rahi hon. Why am I studying this. It is not meant for me. Kis manhos ghari mein I chose this field. Et cetera." What makes me sad is the fact that this is going to be a life long regret. And you know, what makes it even sorer? What augments the soreness is the fact that even though I hate what I am doing but I have to pretend otherwise in front of others (except for a handful of people). This one time only, I am finding it very hard to accept that I have messed up- messed up the most important decision of my life. Ch!

Anyways, I have also realised that I am not tough enough. I am not job material. I cannot work, as I have already mentioned. I cannot. My office was near I. I. Chundrigar Road and the area was terribly crowded with vehicles, people and buildings. I am not used to these hustling bustling crowds. I did not even have friends. I am not used to being alone. While I was in the office, I felt like crying. My eyes did become teary a couple of times for absolutely nil reason. Can you believe that? I felt homesick. Stop rolling your eyes. *frowns* I said I am not that type. Even I did not know I was such a chiriya-hearted person. I have made a shocking discovery! I, A. H., am a wild, crazy, outspoken, whimsy, carefree, etc person only and only inside my comfort zone. My comfort zone refers to my home, my entire family, a few close friends. My world's pretty small, huh?  So, yes, the moment I step out of this zone POOF! You will not find a person graver than me. Chiragh le ker dhondne se bhi nahin milega! *smiles*

My first day was terrifyingly eventful. It was Monday. While me and BJ were on our way back home, we were stuck in an awful traffic jam and then we found out that riots had broken out because an MPA was shot. We got home so late ami jani and everybody were worried sick. But thanks God we did. Around 32 people were killed. I cannot narrate how tense I felt. For some idiotic reason all the streets lights also were switched off and the roads were spookily dark and empty. Sigh. Where is this country going? What happens to the innocent blood that has been shed? Where we do go from here? Floods, Storms, Lightning, Plane crashe, Target killings... What's next?

(Allah saa'in please forgive all of us for we have erred and erred again.)

Hide and seek

I see you are wearing a cloak. Hiding something, are we? What could that be now? What could that be? C'mon now, my dear, tell me. You can tell me anything, you know right? I can keep your secrets- cross my heart. Haven't I kept all your sad little secrets uptil now? Haven't I? Tell me now. Or better wait- Let's play a game. A guessing game.

Hmm... So, a cloak made out of ice with a concrete lining, woven with fine threads of indifference, rudeness and detestation. That is indeed an odd choice for a cloak, my dear. Let me think now. Let me think. You are using this cloak as a disguise, aren't you? A disguise against the world. You don't want them to see who you really are or what you are made of. I know you are scared. But wearing a disguise- how can that help you? Listen to me. I know you are afraid. Afraid of being seen naked- without your cloak. But this is not you. Look at me. Your eyes. In them, used to reside those beautiful portraits of love and tenderness. And now, there sits a bird of pretentious aloofness stretching it wings and the seldom flutters notifying its presence every now and then. I also see anger sitting in the corners watering the Poison Trees it once planted- they have grown so quickly. I see skepticism, sarcasm, disbelief, abomination and repulsion. I also see a dim flame of fear flickering in the background. This is not you. This cloak you wear has buried you somewhere deep inside. I know you are somewhere down there. You are afraid of getting hurt? Does all this protect you from the wounds that you fear. No! No, it does not. The blows continue to bruise you. Your wounds continue to bleed. So why use a disguise that is of no use at all? Why? This is not an armour, my love, that you wear. It is merely a camouflage. It might be made of ice or of concrete but somehow the spears permeate through it. This does not save you from the agony that frightens you. However, there is one thing. This mask that you wear hides your wounds. It hides the scars. It succeeds in portraying a false impression of your strength. It succeeds in fabricating your vulnerability into indifference. It succeeds in hiding your tears. If that is what you want- a camouflage. But why pretend? Why not expose your wounds, your bruises to those who inflicted them upon you. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Let them know of their ruthlessness. Let them know- for it is they and they only, who hold the antidote for your poisonous wounds. Only the hands that stabbed you can heal you, my love. 

And that, my dear, is the tragedy of your life.

My head aches!

This "world" with all its entirety is plunging into utter chaos.

Chaos, I tell you.

Blissfully ignorant, are we?

Please save me and those I love, please dear God! *whispers under the breath*

Mohabbat Mar Nahin Sakti

"KION?"

Yes, that is exactly my question. Aray bhaee! Kion nahin mar sakti? Matlab mujhey koi iss baat ki mantaq sumjhaye. Iss duniya mein har cheez ko fana hai tu Mohabbat mein kya anokha hai? Mohabbat kion ker lafaani hai? Mohabbat kis khushi mein mout se mustasna hai?

Mohabbat mar sakti hai! Han! (Oh and mind you!) Mera ishara eik begharz kisam ki mohabbat ki taraf hai. Han, tu baat ye hai ke mohabbat mar sakti hai kion ke koi bhi cheez humesha baqi nahi rehti siwaye Uss ke jo har cheez ka Khaaliq hai. Ab dekhiye na, mohabbat bhi Rab ki khilqat hai. Khuda ne takhleeq kiya mohabbat ko aur bohat sarii cheezon ki tarah matlab- Mohabbat bhi makhlooq/khilqat hai! Ab jab ke insaan jo ke "ashraf-ul-makhloqaat", yani tamam makhloq se afzal, jab usay he mout se koi istasna hasil nahi tu phir yeh mohabbat kya cheez hai janab?

Hosakta hai aap ko ikhtilaf ho meri ra'ye se balke ain mumkin hai ke aapko aitraaz ho. Kijye! Bilkul kijiye, shoq se kijiye- aapko haq hasil hai. Magar mein is mein aapki koi madad nahi karsakti jab tak ke aap mujhey koi mazboot aur wazni kisam ki koi mantaq nahi paish karte.

Yeh mera "aarzi" falsafa hai. Aap apni kahiye? Mein sarapa sama'at hon. Ab aap ko aitraaz hoga ke yeh "aarzi" falsafey se meri kya murad! Tu janab, iss baat se murad yeh hai ke... Iss saray falsafey mein eik loophole hai- ab woh loophole kya hai yeh mein, bohat ma'zarat ke saath, aapko nahi bataongi. Aap ko Allah ne dimagh zahir hai istemal karne ke liye he diya hai lehaza istemal kijiye. Khair, tu iss loophole ki waja se  bilkul abhi abhi eik aur khayal mere zehan mein aya hai aur woh yeh hai ke...

Mohabbat is one of the types of energy.

And don't all of us know what the mash'hor-e-zamana law about energy is.Yes. "Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another."

You know what am I thinking now? Exactly. What does it become when mohabbat changes form?

Hmm... *shrugs*

P.S. This post is a product of sheer randomness. Please bear with me. *grins*

It makes me bleed

Watching you cripple like this. Watching you burn like this. Watching you drown like this. Watching you crumble like this. When I see the streaks of blood dripping down your face. When I see them stabbing you and ripping you into pieces. When I see you sewing your wounds again. When I see them tearing your freshly sewn wounds again. When I see you falling apart.

When I see myself looking at you. When I look around with hopeless hopes. When I find myself helpless- To heal you, to mend you, to wipe away those bloody tears, to extinguish the fire that burns you, to protect you- When I find myself powerless. When I discover that a paralysis has taken over me. When I discover that it will not let go off me.

When I see you crying out in agonizing pain. When I see myself staring at you with a misty vision. When I see you look at me with pleading eyes. When I see myself unable to alleviate your pain, your sorrows. When I see the plea in your eyes evolving into rage and despise. When I see myself turning my gaze away from you. And while I am turning my gaze away, I catch a glimpse of a smirk running across your lips. When I see my lips pursing against each other. When I see myself shutting my eyes tightly. When I turn my back towards you. When I feel your stare burning my back with abomination.

It makes me implode into a thousand little pieces- with helplessness, with pain, with sorrow, with shame.

Each splinter piercing deeper and deeper through my flesh, through my soul.

Until it makes me bleed.

(May Allah forgive those who died in the crash and may He provide those who mourn them with sabr-e-jameel. May their souls rest in peace- Ameen)

15th Sha'baan

Kabhi aye haqeeqat-e-muntazr nazar aa libas-e-majaz mein
Ke hazaron sajde tarap rahe hain meri jabeen-e-niyaz mein...

Wiladat-e-Qaim-e-Aal-e-Mohammad(SAWW), Imam Mehdi Akhir uz Zamaan(AS) mubarak..

What is in a name...?

Phoolan Devi?

F-16?

RPG?

Who me?

Hahaha.

Hum gard-e-safar, hum naqsh-e-kadam...

"Sometimes you run away only to see who is running after you..."

So you too, my dear, ran away. But no one followed. Nobody ran after you to stop you. But you kept running, hoping against hopes. You kept running because you were afraid to stop by and look back- only to find the dusty trail left by your own sorry self. You kept running until your knees refused to move you any further. You kept running until your lungs refused to spare you even a quarter of  a breath. You kept running until your heart could not beat any harder. You kept running until there was not a single bit of oxygen left in your body to spare. And then- you stopped. Your knees protested against your weight, gave up and you fell to the ground. You felt a line of a searing liquid trickling down your face and vanishing into the dusty ground. Someone spoke inside in a whisper, wanting to take a chance, wanting to look back only to find someone behind you. You scolded the meek voice that rose its head and the whisper scurried away. There was silence now. A deathly silence , that prevailed. All of a sudden, the same whisper rose again. And then another and another until there was a deafening cacophony of whispers. You covered your ears to shut out the dissonance only to find out that the noise came from not outside but from within your own self. You screamed with all that was left of you in an attempt to crush the noise inside. And you failed. Your scream sounded nothing but like a feeble mumble that was never meant to be heard. You felt the damp warmth on your face again and soon the dust on your face had been washed away by your tears. You did not want to look back because you knew. You knew that looking back would turn you into stone- just as in those Alif Laila Tales you once heard. However, you did not have any other option, did you? You had to look back. You body refused to carry you any further. The screaming whispers had now turned into sharp shrills that pierced your soul and the only way to stop them was to look back. So, you looked back. To your surprise, you did not turn into a stone. You focused your gaze to the view that long awaited you. Your tears had blurred your sight so you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and tried to focus again. And you saw.

What did you see, my precious? What did you see?

*************************************

Hum Gard-E-Safar Hum Naqsh-E-Kadam 

Hum Soz-E-Talab Hum Tarz-E-Fugaa'n 

Hum Ranj-E-Chaman Hum Fasl-E-Khizaa'n 

Hum Hairat-O-Hasrat Yaas-O-Alam 

Hum Dasht-E-Junuun K Soda'ee 

Ye Dasht-E-Junuun Ye Pagalpan 

Ye Pecha Kerti Ruswa'e 

Ye Ranj-O-Alam Ye Huzn-O-Malaal 

Ye Nala-E-Shab Ye Soz-E-Kamaal 

Dil Mein Kahin Benaam Chuban 

Aur Hadd-E-Nazar Tak Tanha'i 

Hum Dasht-E-Junuun K Soda'ee 

Ab Jaan Humari Chotay Bhi 

Ya Dasht-E-Junuun Hi Thak Jaye 

Jo Roh-O-Badan Ka Rishta Tha 

Ka'ee Saal Hoye Wo Toot Gaya 

Ab Dil Ka Dharakna Ruk Jaye 

Ab Saans Ki Dori Tootay Bhi 

Hum Dasht-E-Junuun K Soda'ee

Metamorphosis

And the smile grew deeper and deeper until it became a sneer. And then the sneer nestled on those lips permanently- as permanent as the pale scarlet hues of those lips.

My halwa and me

I made halwa today, for niyaaz. *grins* For the first time, I must add.

And it was a delectable delight, I am glad everyone liked it.

My mehnat ka phal... err..or should I say 'halwa'

Umm... Actually it was supposed to be a brighter shade of green but I cooked it a tad bit too much so.... the food colour isn't much to be blamed. Hehe. However, it turned out to be yummy-licious! And by the way, making this made me feel happy from the inside. So, I guess being happy isn't that hard, huh? *smiles* Anyways, now that my halwa has passed the delectability test , ami jani suggests I should make it again on the 15th Shahbaan. Insha'Allah! 

Abbas-e-ba-wafa teri midhat mein kya likhon..

Chun Li Khayal Ne Jo Azal Se Ali(AS) Ki "Ain"
"Bay" Bizat-e-Rasool(SAWW) Ki Ismat Ka Zaib-o-Zain
Alhamd Ke "Alif" Ka Sirapa Dilon Ka Chayn
Wal Ins Ki Yeh "Seen" Ye Nutq-e-Dil Hussain(AS)
Har Harf Kaainat Ka Akkas Ban Gaya
Dekha Jo Ghor Kar Ke Tu Abbas(AS) Ban Gaya...

Wiladat-e-Moula Abul Fazl Abbas Alamdar Shehanshah-e-Wafa (AS) Mubarak..

Shah Ast Hussain(AS)

Afzal Hai Kul Jahan Se Gharana Hussain(AS) Ka,
Nabiyon Ka Tajdar Hai Nana Hussain(AS) Ka,
Ek Pal Ki Thi Bas Hukumat Yazid Ki,
Sadiyan Hussain(AS) Ki Hain, Zamana Hussain(AS) Ka...

Wiladat-e-Moula Hussain(AS) Mubarak

Roh-e-Azaa'n Hai Baap Tu Beta Namaz-e-Dee'n
Masjid Ali(AS) Ki Hai Tu Mussal'a Hussain(AS) Ka
Jageer-e-Kibriya Hui Taqseem Is Tarah
Kaa'ba Ali(AS) Ka, Arsh-e-Mo'ala Hussain(AS) Ka..

A Letter

Dear xyz,

This is to inform you that it might seem as if I am falling apart but there is a possibility- and not so remote, that this is not the case.

Another thing that I am eager to bring to your notice is that yes, I have issues to deal with but mind you, love is the least of all my problems. To tell you the truth, I doubt if it is at all one of my problems, to begin with.

Therefore, kindly do not get any ideas. Do not strain your brain. There is only a little left of it anyways.

That is going to be all for now.

Sincerely,

Ann.

Lying flat on the cold waters of longings, I am staring at the gray sky- with an empty gaze. My body still, my hands stretched out. Like a lifeless object drifting on the water surface, I am drifting pointlessly. I might as well be dead. However, the rare blink of my eyes suggests otherwise. I lie still- and lifeless. Let the gentle waves drift me in whichever direction they please. I will not protest. I will not. No.

Twist

My story is a tad bit different from you. It has a twist. A twist that even the most imaginative of all fancies will strain to  fathom.

Broken glass

No matter how happy you might feel at a time. There will always be little shards of broken glass lying in some solitary corners of your heart that will prick you every so often and remind you of their existence.

And what really are these shiny but piercing little pieces of glass, you ask? Are you sure you don't already know the answer, my dear?

Garmi Ne Kebab Bana Diya Hai...

Read that in a Pathan-like accent. Haha.

I like pathans. They are cute. Especially their dialect. And then they use these weird words that other people usually don't, like "Zalim", "Zakhmi", et cetera. I remember Zafar bhai (our once-upon-a-time driver) once saying something to a chowkidar in Pashtu, the only words that my brain could register and process were "zalim garmi", while sitting at the back seat of the car at that time, I wanted to burst out in giggles.   :)

So, today I went to a local bazaar, a  Friday Bazaar.  My mother was going so I went along with her despite the scorching heat. Haye Allah! Don't ask kitni garmi thi. I am not a big shopping fan but I went anyway- had nothing better to do. But the garmi.. Uff! I could literally feel drops of sweat dripping down my skin. Eww, sick. I am giving out too much detail, no? Lol. Anyways, so it was at this bazaar that I heard a Pathan vendor say to himself, "Haye! Garmi ne kebab bana diya hai.." I liked what he said, hence the title. Hahah.  Then there was this other vendor who heard us talking to each other in Sindhi and started talking to us in sindhi as well . My mouth nearly dropped open. Lol. I looked at him closely to see if he really did look like a Pathan. Then, he told us that his nani is (or was, I am not sure) a Sindhi. Trust me, he sounded very awesome, speaking Sindhi with a Pashtu accent. *chuckles*


Mhmm... Yes, I am back to my senses. I have no idea what had gotten into me that night. Nothing especial really happened, it was not because of someone or anyone. It was just me feeling a little, err... feeling a little... I don't know, weird might be the word. I just typed down everything that was on my mind and now that I read it for the first time after publishing it, I feel lame. *curls toes* This blog is becoming more of a personal diary. o_0 I have started scribbling my thoughts down as blog posts in their most raw form. Sighs.

So, yes. Sidra was right. I needed to get out of the house. Breathe in some fresh air. I was brain dead, perhaps and needed more oxygen. And so, I decided to go to take the today's swimming lesson. I had already been bunking the previous two classes. *passes a sheepish smile* C'mon. I was tired. I sometimes, only sometimes, find it hard to wake up early bhaee. I finally completed the whole lap in one go doing freestyle.  *Wohoo* Swimming is fun. It keeps me distracted- for two hours atleast. No, actually more because after swimming I am so tired I have no idea how the day passes. I am amazed how I have made a pretty good amount of friends at the pool. Me? Making friends? Now that is a surprise. By the way, to tell you a fact, people find me haughty at first sight. Can you believe it? I have NO idea why. There is a line between being reserved and being arrogant. A thin line, although. I am sorry, I do not like socializing so much. You cannot kill me for that now, can you? *smiles*

I love water. But open waters scare me.

You know what else scares me? Mhmm.. We will talk about that some other time, may be...  

I am feeling very weird right now. I have not felt this way since a very very long time. I cannot recall when was the last time when I felt the same way. I am feeling sick. Yes, sick. I don't know what is wrong with me all of a sudden. I don't know what I want. I don't know so many things. I am having this khichri of thoughts being cooked in my head. Strange resonance. Long forgotten echoes. Different dialogues by different people are banging against the walls of head. I am not able to put in words what I am going through right now. I am failing to understand what is it that I want. I am failing to uphold myself. I am feeling open. Exposed. Vulnerable. I feel as if I have exposed myself to damages. I am feeling weak. A swarm of rebellious thoughts have broken into my mind for no reason, without any sort of stimulus. I am feeling insignificant. What am I? Who am I? Where is my place? I want to go away somewhere far far away from here. Some place where I will be away from all of you. So that I do not have to listen to your excuses, your reasons and your alibis for being away from me. So that I do not have to hear any of that. So that I do not have to force myself to believe in those alibis despite knowing how weak they are. I want to get lost in the vastness of this universe so that none of you can find me. So that I can never blame any of you for not understanding me. So that I have no one to complain. I am losing my mind, I think. I am failing to understand my own self so how is it that I so easily blame others for not understanding something that even I cannot comprehend at times. This is gibberish. I have waited the entire day for the match to start and now that nearly half the game has passed, I am still sitting here writing something that makes no sense to my own self. Sighs. I am just going to go now.

Jal-Thal

I lied.

I still love you

I was not sure anymore but today when it came again. I had to accept and surrender in front of it. I suppose I was just mad at it for being gone for so long. I suppose I was just very angry at it for not missing me. For not having time for me. For meeting others. For making them laugh and giggling with them, while I passed my days and nights watching the clear skies and lamenting over it. I suppose I was mad at it for leaving me on my own and turning a blind eye towards me. For being inconsiderate to the fact that I was yearning for it to come and pour on me until every inch of my existence was drenched in it. I was just angry. My anger had blurred my view and all I could see was my anguish and my feelings against it.

It came yesterday. It came before that too. But it did not matter to me. As the beads of water falling down on the ground caught my eye I turned my gaze away. I felt disinterested. The raindrops tapped on my window but I refused to listen. I rather found more fascination in staring at a blank wall than paying any attention to the noise of the rain. Yes, it sounded noise to my ears. There was no song anymore. It kept calling my name for a while then perhaps discouraged by my indifference, it went away. A smirk embraced my lips. "So that was it, uh? That was all you got? Gave up so soon?"

This peekaboo played by the rain made the weather a bit more heavy. It grew hotter and  suffocating. The land was venting out its heat.

I needed a vent too. I felt frustrated too. The clouds came once again yesterday. The rain made a touchdown once again. It tried appeasing me but I maintained my "rootha howa sanam" stance. I wanted it to try a little harder. Deep down I had a fear sitting in a corner of my heart with knees drawn to the chest and with arms clenching the legs tightly. Afraid that probabaly I was pushing a little too much over the edge. Afraid that it might stop trying altogether and leave me again- for good, perhaps. The cocoon that I had created around myself had started cracking already. It was only a matter of a few more knocks and I would have come out of it. But what if the knocking stops before the shell breaks open. And as I feared, the tappings stopped. There is only a certain limit against which you can push others. The anguish started encircling me again.

Then came today, I had no hopes of it coming back. But for some reason it did. It came and returned triumphant. Today it came with an adamant attitude. It poured and poured. It roared louder and louder. I had to give in. I gave in. After all, there is only a certain limit against which you can push yourself too. And as I gave in, it seemed to smile at me. The raindrops kissed all over my face as one kisses a beloved on seeing him/her after a long long time. I smiled at its madness too. "So the feeling was mutual, I see.." I laughed.

After a good enough spell of rain, the land has cooled down and now seems in bliss. The downpour has washed the dust off the roads, houses, buildings, trees- and hearts. The brisk breeze stops by every now and then and whispers something in my ears and paints a smile across my lips.

Yes, I lied. I still love you, dear rain.

Bored. You see my all-over-the-place blog entries. Yupe, that is boredom. I am writing nirri bakwaas and nothing but. Hardly two weeks have passed since the exams got over and I have started having boredom attacks. And I am planning to take the December session off. The whole six months. Yeah, right. *rolling eyes* My imagination is a complete wacko! I imagine things beyond imagination. Sooch hai aapki! By the way, these days I am adoring this phrase "sooch hai aapki". I want to say it at the end of each and every sentence I utter. *chuckles* Just received a text message from F. She was asking if I had got hurt after the last night's fall. God! I tripped in front of everybody.... Ufff! I should stop making a fool out of myself in front of everybody. But it is making me laugh now. Lol. 

I have asked Bhaijaan to get me a pair of turtles. He thought I was joking and hence was not taking me seriously. Ami jani is not allowing me to have kittens at any cost and actually neither will Papa jani. He too keeps telling me to STAY AWAY from furry animals. Allergies, Huh! I have told my little sister Z. to make sure to get a note signed from whomever that I will be married to saying that I will be allowed to keep kittens. This will be a precondition to my acceptance of their proposal. *smiles*  So anyways, as the possibility of getting kittens now is becoming remote and remote-er I am thinking of turtles now. I'll name one as Messi and the other as Kaka. Uh, what if one is a female? o_0 Oops! Have not thought about that. I think I will also buy a pair of gold fish. One named Rafa and the other Federer. Heheheh. Khair, finally I have managed BJ to understand that I am serious. I asked him to go check turtles out in the Empress Market. He went there. He cursed me for sending him there. It stinks. Hahaha. He wants me to come with him and buy the turtles myself. He thinks I ask too many questions and so proposed that instead of asking him I should ask the pet shop walay people. I can't go to the Empress Market!!!!

I want to sleep. Goodnight. I am feeling funny. Ah, whatever. Goodnight!

Once upon a time..

"I loved rain too, once upon a time. I am not very sure anymore... "

It rained. But it did not matter to me. This time it was just drops of water falling off the sky. A mere weather phenomenon.

My life was never multi-coloured. It has been in monochrome for a long time now except for some stray splashes of colours that spill over from different people and their lives. However, it does not bother me except but when I think of you. You have painted your life with brightest colours so much so that when I look at you my eyes hurt, they sting. Whereas, when I look back at myself, whatever I see is almost always in grayscale.

Sighs.

I am getting tired of my fake pledges. Every other week I repeat to myself, "It should not matter to me... I should stop doing this or that... blah blah and more such blah". Nevertheless, every other week I witness a repeat telecast of the same dramas with the same climaxes that I have watched for about a thousand and a half times. Perhaps, I secretly hope and pray that may be, just may be, this time all this will end differently. In vain. This time as well I want to tell myself, "Listen you! You will not do this again." But I cannot find enough courage in me.

My tragedy is that my feelings are locked in a box whose keys were never given to me. My tragedy, my dear, is that my justifications are never good enough. My tragedy, my dear, is that no matter how groundless your reasons are they are always good enough. My tragedy, my dear, is that my words are delivered from my fingers only. My tragedy, my dear, is that my tongue refuses to cater to my words. My tragedy, my dear, is that even when I am right, you coax me into believing otherwise. My tragedy, my dear, is you.

I am not wrong but I am unable to prove myself right. And as far as I have experienced, you are not innocent until proved guilty. You are guilty until proved innocent. It does not matter how loud I scream my innocence out. I need an alibi - that is good enough. Where will I ever get an alibi that is better than yours? Nowhere.

I wish you knew how tired I am. I am tired of being wrong. I am tired of being sorry. I am tired. And so is the reader.

Seriously??

"... It should not matter what I do, whatever I do you should just keep on playing your part... "

Another Looong Day *Yawns*

Phew! The days finally over. It was 22nd Rajab so the Koonday and all. I love Koonday, they are my favourite kind of niyaaz/nazar. Had loads of fun Masha'Allah however, it was pretty tiring. Everybody in the family had the niyaaz at their places mama, Aunta and us. Went to Aunta's place pretty late (after their official time was over). My Aunta's home used to be the only place other than home that I loved being at.  It still is (I guess). Things change.

How I wish everything could go back to the way it used to be. Sighs. Not that I do not like the way things are now. They are good. But not as good as they used to be. I think I should stop living in my past and accept what present has to offer. I need to stop comparing things in time.  All of us have grown out of our clothes. I need to start liking our new clothes. They ain't that bad after all. Snap out of it Ann. *Looks up in the sky and secretly whispers under the breath* Alhumdolillah.

Anyways, so as usual I embarrassed myself once again. It is becoming a chronic habit, you see. :) I tripped off my feet in  a drawing room full of people at Aunta's place. My heel caught up in the threads of the rug and I.... I will leave the rest to your imagination. Why oh why does it always have to happen at Aunta's place only. I have no idea how did I manage to save myself and plus mama held me instantly which kind of saved me from any kind of damages. Bhabhi says, "Nazar utar lena apni, itni pyaari lag rahi thi.." Ami jani  seems to agree with her. Hahaha. Yes, Yes, Allah Sa'iin acted pretty generously while he made me, I know. *smiles*

Falling isn't bad. But falling in front of so many people is bad bad bad. Especially, that one person in front of whom I unintentionally become so conscious. I would have rather preferred dying instead of tripping in front of that one person. Sighs. Anyways, I escaped out of the room and then I told F. and my sister my chronicles. Later when everybody was going into the dining room they started asking me questions again. "Are you okay?" "You aright?" "Kya howa?" Blah blah and more blah. I couldn't take it and my eyes started filling up with the God forsaken salty water again. Uh! The stupid tears. Thanks God B. was sitting beside me so she hugged me and said a few little things to make me giggle a little. I love her. :)

Anyways, Never mind. :) Aall izz welll.. I am stuffed (or not), actually *smiles sheepishly* I am feeling a little hungry right now. I know, I know, I shouldn't. But I am. *smiles*

A Series of Unfortunate Events.. :(

Argentina..... *breaks out in sobs* YOU FOOLS!!! Why oh why?? *weeps*

First goes Brazil... Then you guys... Thank God Spain made it (marginally, huh)... Warna tu I would have had a nervous breakdown.

Bad times.. Even Federer was knocked out... Lets see what happens to Nadal. He'll not disappoint me, I am sure. ;)

Edited:
P.S. I really do not have anything (interesting) to blog about these days. Umm... There are, although, a few little blobs jumping up and down inside my head. Lets see if I can shape those blobs into words anytime soon.

13th Rajab

 Safar Taweel Hai, Raah-e-Nijat Chotti Hai
Ali(AS) Ka Zikr Bohat Hai, Hayat Chotti Hai
Ali(AS) Ko Kaise Mein Moula-e-Kainaat Kahon
Bara Hai Naam-e-Ali(AS) Kainaat Chotti Hai...

Wiladat-e-Moula Ali(AS) Mubarak =)

Conundrums and other fuzooliyaat

Main Entry: co·nun·drum

Pronunciation: \kə-ˈnən-drəm\

Function: noun

Etymology: origin unknown

Date: 1645

1 : a riddle whose answer is or involves a pun
2 a : a question or problem having only a conjectural answer b : an intricate and difficult problem

God forbid, but happiness is unhealthy for my blog. When I am not sad *does that mean I am happy?*, I do not have the slightest idea what to write about. And actually, it's not even despair that brings out the creativity in me.

*Disruptions: You want to know what it is? Why would you want to know? Who are you anyways?*

Anyhow, despair, anxiety or  hurt are not feelings powerful enough to derive me to write something 'nice'. What creates magic is "bitterness"!

I, often, lead myself to believe that perhaps, I am in love with my sorrows. *Is that something like self-pity?* Sighs. Or may be, they have become very dear to me because I have grown more intimate with them. BUT, the plain-vanilla-kind sadness does not interest me. I like my cake of despair drenched in the dark chocolate syrup of bitterness. I like being stingy.

I am afraid I am sprinting on the path to insanity. My heart and mind seem to be a battleground for Armageddon, that is fought on a daily basis (nearly). I want to climb on the highest mountain only and only so that I can scream my lungs out for once, just for once. Ugh!

I want to slap someone, anyone. Uh? What the hell is wrong with me? I started writing this in a fairly good mood  but now.. I am not sure if it is still in that condition! How about I slap myself? *chataakhh*

*chuckles* I think I am just bored.

P.S. Choose any of the two definitions, you will get me anyway (or not). *smiles*

Finding my Daemon..

Your result for The Golden Compass Daemon Test...

Multi-Faceted Soul

In a way, you are a truly balanced person. You have a good sense of self, but you have periods of worry and self doubt. You don't like to be alone a lot, but you don't like being constantly surrounded, either. You can be shy in some situations and bold in others. You can tell people how you feel, but you don't wear your heart on your sleeve. You aren't "TOO" anything: You aren't too shy, you aren't too aggressive, you aren't too extroverted, you aren't too introverted. However at any one time you can be any combination of these things.

You tend to adapt yourself to match the situations in which you find yourself. You may be quiet and sensitive with some people, or joking and loud with others. These are all facets of your personality. People tend to perceive you as they want to perceive you. They may even tend to idealize you a bit. Then, when you do something that doesn't fit their concept of who you are (like have an outburst of anger, or a fit of shyness, or make an insensitive joke)they can be shocked and surprised. Does anyone know the real you?

Your daemon would represent your multi-faceted and ever-changing personality, as well as people's tendency to idealize you. He or she would get angry when you did not, be calm and poised when you felt ruffled and anxious, and always be the voice of emotion and reason in your ear.

Suggested forms:
Swan, Elephant, Koala, Panda, Chameleon, Wolf.

(Courtest: HelloQuizzy)


P.S. I think this is me. I think if we could really have our Daemons, I would not have needed people. I am not a people's person anyways except just a few whom I like being crazy with. Oh and by the way, I scored 79% higher than my peers on "Sensitivity Analysis". (The new software that I installed for indifference is malfunctioning again, I guess. Too bad)

For Papa Jani, With Lots Of love.

There is only about an hour left for the day to pass away. It is Father's Day, right. First of all, I am not a very big fan of associating particular days with particular relations and especially with relations as ethereal as that pf parents. However, I will do this Happy Father's Day thing. So, until I am done with this testimonial of mine the date would have passed but umm.. I'm running my clock on the Brazilian standard time for the time being. =) Because... My father is in Brazil these days, silly. Hehehe.

My father. My papa, actually and baba for my bhai-jaans. I will not say anything about being a good daughter 'cause I really doubt that possibility. But my papa jani is the best father that a person like me could have got. I am a very sinful person yet Allah Sa'in's mercy and bounty knows no limits. I am this horrible person who has a high tendency to hurt those who love me and even those whom I love. I tend to hurt others for no reason that relates to them. It is crazy with me.

There are times when even my ami jani finds me hopeless and just shrugs her shoulders at me, walks away and stops speaking to me. It really hurts. It hurts because I am an attention seeker. I throw tantrums because I want people (who love me, of course) to prove to me time and again that they love me. Demented, you think? You have a right to say that because I agree with that proposition. Love is never enough for me, I always want more. I think that is some kind of complex too however, I have no idea how it became a part of my personality. I am flawed and this trait is one of the the most major flaws.

My papa on the other hand, is always always always ready to welcome my tantrums with open arms. When I am annoyed and I act all serious and grave. It bugs him. He starts asking me what's up with me. I, of course, do not give him a satisfactory answer and then he starts questioning my mother about me. He does not rest until he finally succeeds at making me smile (laugh most of the times).

I bet it is only him who can make me laugh in the most grim-est of moods. He has something in him... He makes some weird faces that are usually an imitation of my weird face.. He says some stuff and he makes it so hard not to laugh or smile. Then I usually give him a tight hug and rush into my room or the bathroom and start crying and curse myself for causing my parents so much pain.

There is this idiom in urdu "jaan chirakna", I have got a father who literally does that. We even have fights. Almost always I am wrong but those very few times when he is wrong he literally comes to me and tries to appease me.

Oh God! Papa you are spoiling me. You know what scares me? What scares me most is the fact that I have been pampered and loved so lavishly but my papa will not always be with me. I will have to marry and be with someone else. This extravagant love showered upon me has made me lose the sense of balance between things. I look at everybody wearing the same specs that I use to look at my father. I presume unreasonably that those who love me will love me with the same intensity. But this is not true.

When I look at my father, my parents actually I thank God for he has blessed me but when I look at myself I realise that they might not be as lucky  to have me as I am to have them in my life. I love you, papa. And I am missing you these days. FIFA is no fun without you, however I will watch it and update you. I am not even watching the Asian Cup. I am glad that we watched French Open together, by the way I don't like Serena Williams at all- I have no idea why you like her! Hmph!

Allah Sa'iin, I am really sorry. Please forgive me. I have been bad over and over again. I have sought your mercy and yet committed the same sins again and again. I have no idea how you forgive me. All I know is that though my sins make a hideous heap but the mountain of your mercy is always always taller. But Allah Sa'iin this time forgive me in a way so that I may never return to the filthy waters of vices. I am sorry.

I love you, Papa.  From your chhota driver.

A dream deferred...

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up 

like a raisin in the sun? 

Or fester like a sore-- 

And then run? 

Does it stink like rotten meat? 

Or crust and sugar over-- 

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags 

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

-Langston Hughes

Do you dream? Do you hold them close to your heart? Are your dreams the paint brushes that colour your life? Do you believe in them? Do you still?

I don't.

For me, dreams are like stars. When you are a child, you look up at them and smile. Their twinkle creates a mirror image in your eyes. You wish to touch them so that some of their shimmer might stick to your fingers and then you can brush your face gently and glitter like a star itself. But once you grow up, the truth is slapped onto you. The stars are nothing but huge spheres of very hot, glowing gases. First of all, you cannot touch them and even if you somehow do, you will burn yourself.

There is something else common between them as well. Their death. When stars die, they explode into trillions of pieces and go flying haywire in the space, hit whatever comes in their path, destroy (or damage) others; or just get lost in the eternal vastness of the universe. When dreams die, they too shatter into billion little sharp pieces. But they don't fly away, they stay put- in your eyes, and prick them, and sting them for as long as they can. They are like tiny pieces of glass stuck in your eyes. Each time you blink, they make it hurt.

Stars are just a hoax. Their shine, their twinkle lasts only as long as you are gazillions of miles away from them. They are nothing but giant burning balls, oblivious and orbit-less. They are a sham. And so are dreams.

Filmain Shilmain... Gaane Waane..

Let's not whine for a while. Let's talk about Bollywood movies and how cheesy Bollywood songs get sometimes and yet how they still manage to make your feet thump to those tunes. =) Okay.... As a kid my fav heroes used to be the three Khans and.... Rahul Roy. Some of you might not even know who Rahul Roy is and those of you who know him must have started squinting at that name and must have read it again to ensure that Rahul Roy is what they read. Lol. Guilty pleasures of childhood. "Baadalon Mein Chhup Raha Hai Chaand Kion... Apne Husn Ki Ziya Se Pooch Lo.." *hums* Yes, that is my favourite song- abhi tak. Anyways, now whenever I remember liking him I go all... Eww... Hahaha.

So yes, Shahrukh Khan was also one of my crushes. I remember having a guy in my school, a 10th grader probably, on whom I and my friends had a major crush because he looked like Shahrukh Khan (please note by that we were merely 3rd or 4th graders then) *blushes* I liked all SRK movies, even the most crummy ones. I adored Baazigar especially. "Yeh Kaali Kaali Ankhain.. Tu Ru Ru.. Tu Ru Ru... Lalalala..." Oh and by the way, I heard this song today which I also used to like as a child "Dekhi Nahi Kabhi.. Aisi Deewangi.. Meine.. Is Liye.. Hans Ke.. Pyar Se.. Jaanejana.. Deewana.. Tera Naaaaaaaam Rakh Diya... Tera Naam Rakh Diya...." =D

Oh and woh batana tu bhool he gayee... Guess how many times I watched Satte pe Satta? Let me tell you... Umm... Sorry, I lost count ages ago... Hehehe. Khair another song that I used to like was "Churra Ke Dil Meraaaaa... Goriya Chali.. Turururu..." ;) Other than that, I liked Akshaye Khanna for some reason too... Oh I love that song too... "Aiinaa Bata Kaise Unka Dil Churana Aaj Phir Akele Mein Unse Milna Jana Hai... Muhabbat Hai.. Muhabbat Hai.."

Oh how much I loved DDLJ and Hum Aapke Hain Kaun... Salman Khan.... *sighs* I have gotten over Shahrukh Khan but Sallu... Nah! Haven't gotten over him. Somehow that song popped in my mind achanak se, "Hojata Hai Kaise Pyar.. Na Jaane Koi.. Na Jaane Koi.." I cannot remember this movie's name but I remember watching this movie many times as well. Most people of my age, might not be aware of these songs as they age back to when we were teeny meeny but I was made aware of them because of my elder brothers, cousins and the rest of the family. This is nothing. I know songs dated back to 50's and 60's.

Oh how we used to listen to Indian pop music. Once upon a time, we and my cousins used to have this Indi Music/Movies fever thingy. Blame it on having a satellite dish. Lol. Man! There was a time when the Indi pop was so beautiful... Ab tu bakwas he hai... Pata nahi hai bhi ke nahi. Pankaj Udhas- Such melodious songs he used to sing. Our favourite was "Mere Haath Mein Sharab Hai.. Such Bolta Hun Mein.." Oh the music videos they used to make- Falguni Pathak and her songs. Lovely. Good times.

Then came Stereo Nation with their songs "Nachangi Sari Raat" and "Pyar hogaya.. Kisi se yaron humein pyar hogaya.." How we used to love these songs and how one of my cousins used to tease us and his sisters about what a pathetic singer that man was. Hehehe. I agree now. Which reminds me how this particular cousin and his elder brother always used to argue about who was the best the music director- Anu Malik or Nadeem Sharvan?

I loved the movie Soldier too. Its songs were so adorable. By the way, soldier reminds me of Bobby Deol and he reminds me of that movie ummm..... Yeah "Barsaat" (1995). I so love that song, "Hum Ko Sirf Tum Se Pyar Hai.. Hum Ko Sirf Tum Se Pyar Hai..." *hums*  You would not want to know how many times we have watched "Dil Tou Pagal Hai". How I used to hate Pooja (Madhuri Dixit) for stealing away Rahul (SRK) from Nisha (Karisma Kapoor). Hehehe. We also watched "Kuch Kuch Hota Hai" alot of times.

Anyways, so time has changed. I watch less Bolly movies now. (Less than before, I mean) Since the last few years one of my favourite movie has been...... "Hum Ko Deewana Kargaye" Nahi nahi kar ke bhi I have watched it about 10 times or a little less. I love it. Ahluvet. Do not ask me why? I just do. I have made my sisters sick of that movie. Lol. (Pst. Pst. Let me tell you a secret: Since a few years, I have been having a crush on Akshay Kumar). Anyhow, so I am going to leave you with a song from that movie which I really like... And another from "Koi Mil Gaya". Listen to which ever you like. Or don't. =)

Indifference- The ebbs and flows

Like the waves of an ocean, it came and tickled my feet. The sensation travelled up my body and to my soul. It permeated me with a surge of an unknown emotion. Was it really unknown, now? Or was it just long-forgotten? An acquaintance who chose to remain a stranger. Serenity. *smirks*

Like the waves of an ocean, it refluxed away from me and with it, took away many a little grains of sand from under my feet. Took away the stranger, the serenity.

I waited for the next wave to flow towards me and they did, one after the other. But it never came back again. What tickled my feet now was just plain salt water. The only sensation that registered with me now was icy chilliness. The stranger was gone. Gone yet again.

Less-ness...

I am feeling clue-LESS. The bitterness seems end-LESS. You seem hope-LESS. My anger, my aguish seem fruit-LESS. Everything seems meaning-LESS. Period.

A broken pencil

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kalimistuk/4082166494/

My life is a broken pencil- it seems pointless. Even with you in it. Having said that, I wonder since when did I become so indifferent. Not that I do not like it this way. I always wished and hoped to be indifferent and now that indifference is finally taking over me, I feel tempted to ask myself, "So what was it? What was the last straw?" Really, I want to figure it out. What just happened? How did my tables turn? This bitter tranquility that howls inside me is odd. I do not feel angry or anguished. Anxiety is nowhere near me. How did this happen? So, does this mean I took in everything? Shut it in a box and threw it in some dark corner where I probably will never find it anytime soon? Since when did I become so strong?I do not like it this way. It feels hollow. Not having any feelings, being numb makes me feel empty. I was once told by my Ami jani that I should not keep to myself I should voice out my miseries, my problems. She asked why do I do this. She said sharing your feelings lessens your heart's burden. *Sighs* True. I wanted to tell her that I already know that and I want to! I want to let people know how I feel but it is so hard. I cannot. No matter how much I try. I cannot. I tried telling you but you looked at my words so superficially you never got to understand them. I tried again, you thought my words were insignificant and naive. I admit I have destructive tendencies and that my feelings are not always gentle. The day my mother told me to vent out I was told by someone to "keep my feelings to myself, to control them". I felt a kick in my gut. I wanted to tell that particular person how ridiculous it sounded, how irrelevant. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry at the same time. "Keep my feelings to myself", seriously? What made you say this? When did I share myself with you, when did I make you my confidant and when did I reveal my feelings to you? I do not remember doing any of this and yet you tell me to keep my god-damn feelings to myself. You have no idea how I have gotten sick of keeping to myself. Now of all times, I want to speak to somebody, anybody. I was reading Sidra's post where she said "I’m no expert in counseling people or making them feel better..." and something snapped inside me. I am sick of counselling others and making them feel better. I want someone to appease me, pacify me, make me feel better. I heard a dialogue randomly on TV today, a guy was saying, "...speaking out your feelings makes them weaker in your heart, it lessens their intensity.." I want to speak out but I cannot do it on my own. I need someone to lure me into speaking. Too much to ask, uh? *Sighs*

Life's FAQ#1

Q: Mera Dimagh Itna Kharab Kion Hai?

Ans: Mera dimagh kharab hai because I have been loved... excessively and unnecessarily. 

*shrugs*

This answer forfeits every right that I thought I had to complain.

 I need to change. Not for myself, but for those who love me unconditionally. 

True That!

“All animals are equal but some are more equal than others”
[George Orwell, Animal Farm]

DAMN YOU ISRAEL!!

The Giant Night Bulb

It is a beautiful night. As the entire area is drowned in darkness (courtesy: KESC) I realise how exquisite this night is. The giant night bulb hanging up in the sky lends its borrowed silver light to this sleeping land. It embraces everything that it can and gives it a surreal glow. The calmness of night is shattered into a thousand tiny pieces by the fierce wind that blows. The wind wildly pounds against the windows and creates ripples in the silent lake of the night. Yet, all of this is so serene- to me. The wind brushes my tresses and whispers into my ears strange words in an alien language. However, it makes a smile crawl up my lips.

This city never sleeps, does it? There is still traffic on the roads. A few cars rushing on the deserted roads every now and then. Motor cycles and trucks passing as fast as they can, piercing the silence of the night. I even  hear some crows cawing. I guess even they are having issues luring themselves into sleep like me while the rest of the world is temporarily dead.

I am feeling ecstatic. I am happy for no apparent reason. I have stayed up this late after quite a long time. But I am alone. I am alive while the rest of the world has sold their souls to slumber for yet another night. However, there must be some exceptions. A girl who is awake and whispering to the man on the moon. A man standing in his terrace and staring up at the sky and smiling for reasons known to him only. Someone knelt down in front of his Creater, trying to convince Him how much he loves Him and seeking His mercy for he has sinned. Someone raising her hands up to the sky yet again and beseeching her Lord  for that one particular wish, just like every night. The trees that happily dance with the wind as it sways from one tree to another like a philanderer. The stars that twinkle as they blink there eyes, trying hard not to fall asleep. And the moon...

"Will you get me that giant night bulb down in a cage, please? It looks so alone up there..." 

All in a day's work...

I cannot turn more red from embarrassment. Another entry that successfully made to the "Most Embarrassing Moments List" and trust me, this one is "top of the line". 

ONE SHOULD NEVER BE TOO NOSY

So this is what happened. We were randomly chatting when my cousin's phone beeped. He made a joke about it but did not check his phone for the message and I came up with mischief in my mind. I asked him to hand me his phone. He said no. I insisted. He resisted. But finally, my insistence superseded his resistance and he handed me his phone and in exchange I handed him the glass(which by the way was the reason why he gave in). Alas! I wish he had not given in to me.

I forced him to blurt out his security code which he surprisingly did. I suppose he did not have anything to hide OR perhaps (and more likely) it was another dumb day for me. I wish I had not read his text message. But it was spilt milk, my crying would have been in vain. The moment the message opened was the moment I realised my foolishness. There was just a delay of nanoseconds between my action and the resulting qualms.

I did not read the entire message but just a couple of words caught my eye and made my realise how dumb have I been. It was some kind of bakwaas joke. All my shararat went down the drain in an instant. I hit the back key and returned him his phone as if the phone was some kind of creepy crawly. Eww!! Why do boys have to be so grotesque? I wanted to vanish into thin air. He then checked his message but I think he did not read the entire message he probably checked the sender and the first few lines. The only words that came out of his mouth were: "Oh... yeh.. hai.."  He was referring to the sender. He tried to sound as casual as he could. But I think both of us felt embarrassed in our own ways and the odd pause that lasted a few minutes was a witness of it.

Uff Allah Saa'iin... Why do I always prove myself dumber than dumb? Why on earth did I ever want to check his phone? I regretted. Furthermore, I regretted the fact that I did not hit delete. I should have deleted the message and said: "Oh! I'm sorry man. Delete hogaya!!" At least he  would not have found out that I read that stupid message. Although, I did not read it but he would comfortably be presuming that I did. Sighs.

I have been trying not to think of it. But it keeps coming back and sticks out a tongue at me. Only people like me, who do something wrong and worry about it all day all night (irrespective of the magnitude of the wrongness), can understand how messed up I am feeling right now. I do not disagree that what happened to me is funny. Yes, it IS hilarious but only because it happened to ME and not YOU. *blushes*

MORAL OF THE STORY:  Never poke your nose into other's business (especially men's). *curls toes*

Ugh.

P.S. One more thing, I have no idea why this particular cousin of mine has to witness the most grand exhibitions of my dumbness. Hmph!  

Dear Sidra

Sighs. I have missed blogging yaar. It's just that exams are round the corner- kya karooon?! =( I am having "the-time-of-my-life" (in all the wrong ways, that is).  I am afraid if I write, I will write about how Gray, Owen and Adams hold that Pristine Capitalists are people who do not give a damn about other people. The only thing that seems to interest them is how to make big bucks. And I cannot begin to elaborate on how strongly Mr. Milton Friedman seconds this stance on Social Responsibility.

I might also disclose to you that I have no idea what The Divine Command Theory is and that I fail to understand what was Socrates's point when he asked Euthyphro the famous question: "Is the pious loved by the gods because it is pious, or is it pious because it is loved by the gods?" And how weird is that, studying philosophy in Accounting and Finance, uh?

I will also have to admit that accountancy is by and large the most stodgy profession- Dull as ditch-water. I wake up every morning each day and ask myself: "What on earth am I doing to myself?" Ugh.

Enough bakwaas about how much I loathe accountancy. Another reason that I have been away, which by the way is the primary reason, is that I have been ripped off of my words lately. I cannot seem to scribble up anything that makes sense. This time it isn't just my words that are incoherent and scattered but it is my mind that is plagued with incoherence and is going berserk.

But, don't worry. I will be lurking around in the corners with my nonsensical posts, that is. :)

Love,

Ann.

P.S. By the way, this "started out" as a reply to your comment but...... you know. ;)

A puppet show

I am tired. Scared. Sick.

Of a world where everything is made up of brick and mortar- and that is it. A world where people are nothing but clay puppets. Their desires pulling their strings. Inanimate objects manipulated by their desires and self-interest.

I check myself for any similar strings attached. I find none.

I am disappointed. Life would have been so much easier that way.

I wish to be a puppet too. A clay puppet, like you.

Aur Bhi Gham Hain Zamaane Mein Muhabbat Ke Siwa

The title of the last post makes me sound like a lovesick person. Funny. Yes, I was sad. But 'love and similar disasters' were not the one to blame. There were 'other' reasons behind that. I can assure you. Precisely, none of my posts that are dripping with despair hold love as their culprit. Being lovesick is out of my league. I do not really believe in 'love as in love'. What I mean is, love is not a ground reality, so as to speak. Love is.... It is surreal. Pure fiction. Therefore, I do not really believe in love. Not my thing, eh.

I love what Faiz Ahmed Faiz sahib says. It is beautifully cruel.

                   Laut jaati hai idhar ko bhi nazar kyaa kije
                   Ab bhi dilakash hai teraa husn, magar kya kije
                   Aur bhi gham hain zamaane meiN mohabbat ke siwa
                   RaahateiN aur bhi haiN vasl ki raahat ke sivaa

So yeah, love is not my cup of tea. Having said that, I must admit, "Holy God! What an outrageous liar I am!" LOL. It does not matter how many times I repeat that I do not believe in love, it will always bounce back to me like an echo and remind me what a pathetic liar I am. As funny as it might sound to some, I often try to escape love. I try to run away. But then soon enough I realise that I am running in circles only and so I obviously find myself right where I started- with love- again. Mhm.

However, I must say that love has become a cliché for the commonplace girl/boy loves boy/girl thing. Yes, I said commonplace and you can take all the offence you want. I don't know. I am not a big fan. Nonetheless, it does not mean I am against love. Oh no, no! It is, indeed, very essential. I am just, well, how should I put it? I am just against some kinds of love. There. Now that was a nice way of putting it. LOL

So anyways, I was saying that I am being a blatant liar when I say that I do not believe in love. Yes, that is true, I am afraid. That is so because I am a lover. An impulsive and compulsive lover. I love a lot of people in a lot of different ways. And I must confess, love hurts. It hurts in places that you did not even know existed inside you. All kinds of love hurt. But, there can be different reasons to the question "why it hurts?"

I know why my love(s) hurts. (I know just about everything, my problems and their solutions, and yet I loiter on the paths of my life wearing my ignorance cloak, listlessly. What to do with such enforced oblivion? What to do? Arw rightly calls me a "knowledgeable jaahil" ) Love has happened to hurt me often too because I've never succeeded in pulling off the balancing act. I always mess with the balance of things. Hence, the outcomes are pretty much err.. logical. I am way too possessive and it successfully leads me down the abyss of despair. From tiniest things to colossal matters, from my mother to my friends, I am almost always so overbearing. Let me put it in a nutshell. I am a spoiled brat. There, done.


P.S. This is so not what I had in my mind to write about. It is not even anything similar to it. Ugh. I am a spoiled brat and I have a dangerously high tendency to diverge. Period.