Life Bytes - What and how life teaches me

words and time

2011-08-26T00:57:00.000+05:00

Some combinations of words and timing are just horrible, they can mean no good, if they are the most honest truth, and said with the intention of avoiding tension. If the time just differs by seconds, the disaster being avoided in the first place, blows out of proportions and lasts much longer than that disaster which was being avoided.

Sigh.
Yes it happens, to the best and the worst of us. Whether the best happens to the worst or the worst to the best?, that question still remains unanswered. Still much to find out.

Funny to think what the difference is, between the phrases best disaster and worst disaster?

Going back to what led to this entry, an honest truth which I would actually like to tell this person sometime, reached them, from my mouth, in the wrong tone, at the worst possible time. I was saying it to someone else, and they heard.

Things that happen when one hears what is meant for them, but being said to another....OH man!....

Lesson?

Be careful when saying something you want to tell someone (to somebody else)....cause you'll definitely not say it in the same tone to their face...

Something = criticism....

2011-08-21T10:49:00.002+05:00

try not to find what u have in one relationship, in another...its unhappy

2011-07-23T00:25:00.002+05:00

there is an intoxication to anonymity that only the infamous understand

Disappointment

2011-03-23T18:17:00.000+05:00

This was all she was left with, all that she had become herself. Borne of so-called unconditional love and sacrifice, and both having expectations from her. Her eyes wept and wept yet all her hearts tears couldn't flow out her eyes, couldn't wash the indelible scars her wounds had left. Hurting and ever-fresh, yet scars. She broke and shattered bit by bit inside but love and sacrifice never noticed, and accused her of exploitation and opportunism; blamed her of having hurt them. She gave her all and she gave her best but they expected from her to support one and she couldn't; though she tried. She could live without both but not support one against the other. They fought in front of her; they fought through her, always injured her in the process and screamed it was love and sacrifice. Such lies. Such blatant lies. Myths of love and sacrifice. Then they accused her of enjoying the dispute and gaining of it. Leaving her as always, disappointed; with both, love and sacrifice.

Compromise

2010-09-30T01:31:00.001+05:00

She was tired of being the compromise in this relationship. She had lost her most in it; time, love, sacrifice, prayers, childhood, innocence; all wasted. And now she was about to lose her left-over self esteem; she was about to lose her all. She was fed up of being stuck "in between"; even more fed up of being in that loop, that vicious vicious loop.

Trying to solve a problem
Ttrying to co-operate
Getting no co-operation
Failing at solving the problem
And then becoming the change that was needed to make the problem smaller.

Becoming the compromise. Becoming part of the solution, as well as the problem. Suffering being the no-man's land and every-mans paddy. Being the two and then enduring the pain of being told that she was the benefactor! "Really? How?" her mind screamed back, while her heart wrenched and bled. While her tongue spoke too fast for her, baffling her numb senses, shattering her already trying to mend itself heart, yet satisfying her infuriarated mind. The same mind she kept silencing when she decided to become the compromise each time, repeatedly. The same mind she used harsh logic with for all things pertaining to her heart. The very same mind that debated with in order to become the compromise. The very mind which eventually lost to her, and give up yet more of its peace; to be the compromise.

Choice - in retrospect

2010-09-02T01:24:00.003+05:00

She always tried to choose between right and wrong. It ripped her apart, sometimes her heart and sometimes her beliefs; sometimes causing rift between both. Testing, retesting and then repeating the loop. She always made an effort to choose the right, regardless of how she'd have to sacrifice and what she might have to lose. She contented herself even if she did lose something in consequence, or perhaps be left with pain; a drop of which always lasts longer than a flood of happiness.

But then suddenly, life would make her path such, that all her right choices would become wrong, and she would shatter, all over again. Choose, all over again; choose to collect and put back together the pricking shards of her fate-beaten existance. Try to solve the puzzles she found, in the process, form some more new ones. Choose again, between right and wrong; and unwittingly wait for her rights to become wrong again, passively.

Life Bytes - What and how life teaches me: The incomplete end

2010-08-06T11:59:00.000+05:00

Life Bytes - What and how life teaches me: The incomplete end

The incomplete end

2010-08-06T09:37:00.002+05:00

It was raining very hard. She was very happy for the rain.
It hit her petals hard, and the pain it caused soothed her pain in an odd way.
It hid her tears, her warm tears against the cold rain.
She cried for him; and for them.

She had feared this pain, but not in this form.
She had thought, believed, her star would not be affected.

Yet, it had finally happened; worse than she had expected.
She thought she'd break only her own heart. but she'd broken his too. What was worse, with her love.
He had dimmed, had lost the twinkle she loved.
The twinkle, she now knew; she had given him.
So she let the breeze sway her without complain.
Stealing her fragrance.
Hurting her, easing her tears.

Each tear made her love him more. Each hurt her more to have caused him to be hurt.
Hurt through loving her. Simple, pure undemanding love.
She cried till her heart became cold, lost all the warmth of his love in those tears.
Tears as cold as the rain.

Disobedience

2010-07-14T10:07:00.000+05:00

It was her disobedient little heart; which kept fluttering, skipping beats at the nuances of his presence; his twinkling. It tickled her, the fluttering. Made her smile, unreasonably. Smile a genuine, genuinely pleased smile. She knew it was not right but she liked it. It made her feel pretty, it made her feel wanted. The garden envied her, and craved a star to love. There was a forbidden thrill about these smiles that she smiled to herself. It was the thrill itself that she was growing to love. It wasn’t him anymore. He was just the sparkling, glimmering excuse for her to get thrilled. No more. No less. She felt abliss. Safely content, with nothing to lose.
She had never felt her heart so light before. Light as a bird, floating on the wind, so effortlessly; seamlessly gliding from one cloud to another. She was living in a dream. It may not have been hers, but a dream it was; and she knew it. It was this knowledge that made it even more pleasant, and even more lucrative. She knew it wouldn’t last long, and decided to live it. Live in this dream. Enjoy it while it lasted. Embrace it while it let her. Embrace the dream each night she saw him, do what he did best; Twinkle, and love him for it. Just do what she did best, love his twinkling. Not let what was best about it – the thrill of impermanence – hurt her. For once, let go; just let go.

Ignorance

2010-07-08T14:33:00.000+05:00

She saw it from her spot in the night. The dark, silent night; twinkling away. It was love at first sight. She loved the way he twinkled, different from all others. As it grew darker, she felt closer to him. He was also drawing closer. She was sure of it. She adjusted her petals her petals to look prettier, and swayed more gracefully to the wind. They were about to touch. But the light was approaching, and made her see. See the distance between herself and her star. The distance that the dark had been shielding uptil now. She knew she had to ever-share him with the night. It was her that he belonged to. It was she who made him twinkle. Her painful solitude came to her rescue. Her only comfort. He would only twinkle in her eyes now and she would wait for the twinkling to dim and become the pearls commemorating the sublime moments where her love blossomed and perished before full bloom.

Alone

2010-05-17T21:54:00.001+05:00

She could hear the silence. She could hear it talk to her; but she couldn't listen closely. Couldn't comprehend what it was trying to say. The noise in her head was preventing her from doing that. She caught the word "loneliness" she thought, or was it "forgotten"?; it must've been "unwanted"!. Hold on! was the silence also ruthlessly turning her away? Her only friend of the times she wanted to shrink to nothingness? When all tears had dried, when all laughter had departed to their homes, when even her headache didn't ache her anymore. When numbness could no longer soothe her. When the hot rushes in her head became her only contact with being alive, the contact she found hard to hold on to. The same she wanted to let go of, yet, it wouldn't let her go. And now it was about to steal from her, her last, her all. It had finally convinced the silence to abandon her too. And she knew also, that she had helped.

Tea Tea Tea

2010-05-08T16:01:00.000+05:00

If I were to point out an addiction that I have, one which would give me any after-taking-away- of-drug symptoms; it would be tea. It must be noted, I mean TEA...not caffeine. Caffeine can be got through a number of other "halal" drinks, like coca-cola, and coffee. Okay, the "number" ended sooner than I expected... :(... ;p....But tea is my favourite. I am called the official chai-wala (tea-maker) of my class, when we stay those nights in studio, - yes, we the architecture students- me and another friend of mine go around asking people if they want tea. Some accuse us of having addicted them to it also...hehehe...and well, we accept it...we have!!!..

I am basically addicted to tea, cuz my mother is...no, its not hereditary. Look, I come from a country that has no qualms about what the "first world" calls "child labour" ...not that what I was subjected to was child labour, but still... Moving on, when I was what...six??...or was it five and half??...six I think, when I made the first cup of tea for my mother, and from then on it never stopped. She has, to-date, a mug of tea every half an hour!!!...and my fellas call me an addict!...It has been one of our family jokes that if one day we cut ourselves...we will bleed tea...hehehe

Anyways, I have always been proud that I can completely multi-task where tea is concerned. I can have tea while walking, climbing the stairs, draftingg, drawing, u name it!!! - without spilling - and in a moving vehicle, no, not a plane!..I mean the bumpy roller coaster roads of Karachiiii!!!...Where ther are more speed breakers than road length, and more khaddas (dips, ditches, unexpected depressions) than speed breakers - I mean the mountainous speed breakers - here its a real task to juggle with a mug of hot tea waitng to overflow.

Well, today, for me was a milestone tea day. Why?...cuz i drove on the same mad roads while i drank my tea!!!...It felt great!...freaked my sister out but I was very pleased with myself. It was amusing to watch aunties raise eyebrows beyond their foreheads, office-type guys with ties fix their specs to believe their eyes and the paan-chewing truck-walas looking down for a reason other than my being a female...And the tullas!! (traffic-police), they were just classic...!...one attempted to pull me over but instead just yelled...Baybee!!!...poor him!...Now I just wish I had taken a photograph....:/...:D

Introduction to blog

2010-05-07T15:48:00.000+05:00

Hmmm... I have never blogged before, written lots, but never blogged. Therefore, being new to this, well, I am not speechless, cause I am a person with verbal diarrhoea; but I definitely do not know how or where to begin. Now, you see THAt is the problem with blogs and diaries and such, they don't reply, and one cant judge by their faces or body language what they might like to talk about. In case of people, mostly you can start with what they want and then move on to what you like talking about most, but it just gets sad if the person in question is into ONLY politics and football and starts becoming taciturn the moment you mention art. Then of course, there are those who count recent popular bollywood songs - such as just chill chill- as poetry. Well, poor poetry!, I wonder how she must feel.

Well, back to blogging and me. I guess I'll take this opportunity to talk about myself. OOhh...The last sentence suddenly reminded me of my kindergarten days, when we all were required to write about ourselves to pass exams!, and funny how the teacher "corrected" what we wrote, I mean how could she correct what we knew about ourselves!!... Strange our education strategies are...Anyways, talking about myself, I am one not-so-Pakistani , Pakistani female, studying or at least trying very hard to, study Architecture. When I say not-so-Pakistani, I mean, i do not, and probably never will fit the description of a Pakistani female. This creature (I'm talking about those that come from a background similar to mine - the middle strata of middle class) is generally what she is expected to become, i.e. shy, refined, not very talkative, one who doesn't laugh loudly - basically bordering on anti-social. Not only this, she is one who can somehow know how to cook since birth, and if she has to have a profession, she has to be a teacher or doctor; other than that, well we really have to fight our way around, and practicing that too becomes another question of "permission" after she gets married. Of course one of our life's goals is to get married, I think its the nucleus and driving force of our society! and our population statistics are reflective of that! . Okay, back to myself, I am social, talkative, sometimes overbearingly so, and laugh loudly!!...haaawww!!!...and unlike many of my counterparts, am not subject to "permission" for everything I do. I am into writing, and theatre and those are some of the things that have brought me here, to blog. I loooove travelling and have very recently been to China, Beijing more specifically. I guess I should go now, cause my computer will shut any moment!...I live in Karachi, where the electricity plays hide-n-seek-with us!....So here's to my first blog...cheers!