Yes, it's been a while. 5 years. A lot has happened. I graduated medicine. I'm studying for my residency exams. I'm married. MARRIED!

And what brought me here? What forced me to write? My Dadi. My rock. My connection to Earth. The only person to keep me sane. She's gone. Monday. She left me. She's nor  coming back. Allah Ta'Allah called her back. I guess he wanted her.

Born Feb. 3rd, 1921.
Died Nov. 1st, 2016 1:30 am Karachi Time.

She taught me so much, about life, about being, about strength, self-reliance, pain, happiness, simplicity, and even negativity. I learned from her how not to judge people, because I saw what judging had done to her. It hurt her, when she thought about her life sometimes, and what she had done. I don't want that regret. I don't want that pain. I want to be happy. I want to be able to smile, and to be able to say that I lived and loved.

Zohaib, my husband, says that she left because she knew that I had somebody in my life now who would take care of me. Who would put me first. For whom I was the world. I don't know, and I'll never be able to ask, I suppose. I miss her. I'll always miss her. Her voice, her smile, her laughter, her determination, her little rituals.

I don't think I'll ever forget the little things she used to do. The way she got up in the morning, her water jug, her birds, her animals, her plants, her love of rice, her always boiling milk in the same pot, her sitting outside for a little while morning and evening, her chai at 11 am, and then at Asr time, her biscuits, her incense stick at sunset, her heater in the winter, her socks, her clothes, her medicines in her little cup, her keys that she always put underneath her pillow, her takhat that she always slept on, her basket of fruit peels that she used to compost, her masalas, always on the window sill behind the closet, the way she trusted only me to open her closet, and give her her purse if she needed money, that way she used to listen to the news every hour just to make sure nothing had happened that she didn't know, the way she learned to say 'I love you' to me, the way she would always want to feed people when they came, they way she put up the swing in the house for me and said it would never come down, the way she would come to get me herself if I was down or sick and I didn't want to eat, the way she would buy me Coke even though she hated it and knew it was bad for my health, the way she wanted me to write my number on the wall beside her even though she never called me.

I miss you so much, Dadi, so much. I can't believe I'll never hear you again, I'll never see you, you'll never smile at me, you'll never tease me again. That house has nothing without you. First Dada left, and now you. What will I do?  

Good Times 1

Me: I want some coffee.

Mom: Really?

Me: Are you offering me some?

Mom: You should do your work yourself. (Then, after a moment of thought) Self Reliance!

*face palm*

Fuck it ... Ha!

Perhaps I, for the first time in a while, am finally starting to feel better about everything. The future, the present, just, everything. It's been a while. Maybe this is the peace I was asking for, but couldn't be patient enough to wait for. I suppose it's good that what I did to garner that peace did nothing for me. It opened my eyes to my own puniness. I can't stop smiling while writing this, because I was reading the old posts, and the helplessness I talk about is akin to an immature child complaining about not getting their way. I feel as though after a long time I can laugh at myself, and all the depression I feel. I can smile, and feel amusement, and can therefor understand that what I deem to be hopelessness is my own childishness making itself felt with a bang. This is a note to you, madam. The next time you feel that way, come here, and read this, and know that how you feel, or you believe you feel, is insanity, and only a mere shadow of insecurity that you can easily shove a stick up the ass of, and get right back to living. Say fuck you to everyone, and let yourself smile. Ain't no one stopping you, and Papa and Mama are waiting!

Simple Saturday ...

Takes you a long time to realize just how much people are fucking you over, and how much they keep from you, and who’s actually real, and who’s just messing with you. Be yourself, but stay away from people who seem as though they want to help, but choose when they want to do it. It’s only family at the end of the day who won’t stab you in the back. If nothing else, I was at least blessed with family who always wants me to succeed, even at the cost of their own happiness, and perhaps being that way right back for them wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Being strong is not something I haven’t done, but this isn’t about being strong. It’s more about being prudent, and just with those who place you first in their lives. You’ve seen how long people who just enter your lives can put your first. I love my parents. I adore them more than life themselves, and after having them so close, I can give them 7 days. All they ask for is a week. How long will that take? Be theirs, and then see how far God will take you.

“I’ll put you in front of me, so everybody can see my love.”

Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and everything you continue to do, without ever stopping to think about your own needs, and wants. Thank you for everything. I wish I could give you even a sliver of all the happiness you’ve given me, but perhaps this realization is good enough for now.

Keep praying for me, and keep me going strong. Sometimes I forget why I keep music such a big part of my life. It’s because as long as I have this, I don’t have to hear people, and then I never have to feel left out of a conversation that I truly never wanted to be a part of in the first place. When I don't have my music, I feel as though I should blend in, I should be like them. But when I have my headphones, I'm reminded that being different isn't bad. Being the way I am is something to be happy about. Because I never wanted to be like anyone else. I just want to be me. And the best part of that is that nothing needs to be explained. Regardless of the fact that it is wrong, it keeps me sane, me, well, me. And for now, that’s all I need. To be different. To be me. To be what they don’t understand. What they can’t be. What they won’t ever be able to touch. Me.

Nothing will make me give up who I am. The more confused people are, the more they ridicule me, the more proud I become of what I am. What my parents made me.

Skeptic

They say when you honestly want something, heaven and hell will combine forces with the rest of the energy and hope of the universe to get it for you. Why, then, am I so skeptical?

Is it because some innate feeling within me tells me that it's almost impossible to live that perfect life? Where all you do is struggle, and the only thought which keeps you going is that hope that life MAY get better, and that this MAY not be the end?

What if it is, though? What if there is no happy ending, and all that you've convinced yourself is coming, is just that, a hope which will shatter with all the pain that you never imagined you'd feel, and all that you'd ever hoped would come, the only belief, candle that kept you from giving up when all you felt like doing was curling under the bed covers and saying to yourself that this is enough, and there's no point.

I asked myself a question last time, something to the effect of, how will I look at tomorrow? It was an honest question, and one I realize the answer to now. I suppose at that time I was somewhere in the middle, I really didn't know what turmoil my heart, my soul was truly in.

Enlightenment - October 15th

`Tis not too long ago that a thought struck me a while back that had not before. I`m not sure if it`s just me, or it truly has happened. I suppose I should ask someone who knows me well, however, whomever I ask would most likely either not tell me the truth, or give me a very watered down version of the truth which I so desperately require. I seem to have just realized that I am to turn 23 years old, and I have yet to seem it. Perhaps the reason I feel like such a misfit is because I am, and despite how much that SHOULD bother me, it doesn`t. I don`t mind sometimes acting womanly, and smiling quietly, while doing what is asked of me without any facial expression, but who can accept that as a way of life?

Yes, I accept that growing up is an inevitable process, and as time passes, more is expected of me than ever before, but what is that compared to a happy life? One where, despite going against society, I`m still happy?

I suppose it would be to my credit to listen to my mother and remain reserved around guys, but I can`t be that way! I hate pretending that I don`t want to say hi to my friends, or that I don`t care about them, just because that attitude of mine would impress them!

What is the point of impressing these guys when, for all I know, God has planned my marriage to a gentleman who lives on the other side of the world, has never seen me before, and is taking our impending marriage on complete faith, just as I am? I hate feigning helplessness when it`s only going to make me miserable. What is the point of doing something that is going to make everyone happy, but me miserable? Sooner or later, those feelings will jump ship and land on my parents` shore. Making up the lies required to convince them that I am alright, and that nothing in life will pierce my armor will consume much more than just ignoring people will, and yet my nature rebels against the latter as well.

I pray for enlightenment, for the strength to get through these two years with the same nature I brought into medicine. It is not fair to have to change yourself to fit in. I won`t. I refuse. Accept me this way, or else change yourself. But leave me the hell alone.

Ostracized

I need to rant and rave. I need to let everything out, and be so rude, inconsiderate, and downright evil, that no one has any other option but to ostracize me. Oh, wait. I have already been ostracized, and so completely, that every moment that I spend here is now becoming a physical pain in my chest and head. For the first time in my life, my brain hurts from holding it all in. What have I done? The mistakes I made were mine to suffer with, but why am I being punished from a million different directions? My head feels heavy, tears threaten all the time, and I feel that there is no one I can open up to any longer. I am going to lose everyone I love, just as those before me who walked on this path did. What a wonderful way to live a life. You believe when you start that the more you give, the more you will receive, but it seems to be more like leeching. You keep giving, and they keep taking , and they have no qualms about what they`re doing. They believe it is their right. I am asked all the time why I give so much to one who gives me so little in return, but do they not see that the little I receive means so much since I get nothing from anywhere else. I am able to even fool those whom I thought could see through me despite locking myself behind a steel door. It is wonderful to know that there is no one whom I can turn to, no one who will share, or at least tell me how to shoulder it without killing myself inside. The funny thing is, I know deep inside that there may not be a way out. This is it. I have been told to turn to God, and He knows that I have. I apparently lack discipline, to keep at something even though I know it will fail on the beginning attempts. Tell me, how does one learn, or develop discipline? Is it something that comes with practice, or are you just born with it, and if you don`t have it then to hell with you, because you must be a screw-up, or be royally screwed yourself?!

Indeed, I am very passionate when I want to be, some sentences I think about when I am writing, but some of the writing is exceptionally spontaneous, which one would hope is a good thing. Not. All the thoughts come from spontaneity and an extreme amount of anger, which I no longer know how to control. I need my anger level to decrease, some semblance of reign on my out-of bounds existence.

Seems as though I am done. Good night. I have fooled everyone. Congratulations. Live free, now that you`re in an invisible cage. One that you built. Wonderful.

Loyalty

I was once told by a very close friend of mine that they followed this blog, very carefully. I was touched, though telling them was not on the agenda at that time. Nor is it now, come to think about it. I miss this friend of mine, tremendously. I`m sure they know who they are, and I do hope, with my normal reservations, that they message, contact, do something. I miss you very much, and I hope you can forgive me for putting you through the greatest trouble of having to deal with me. 

Anguish

Tonight is a night when words again want to be heard, when feelings resent being hidden. I suppose it is torturous of me to not give voice to that which screams to be heard, to be allowed to rear its head back and scream with anguish, hoping against hope that someone hears. In essence, it all is metaphorical, but does that decrease the pain, or make it any less? Pain, regardless of any other factor, remains the sole cause of every uncannily bad decision, and yet, despite knowing this, the world does not decrease the infliction of this wretched disease. Rather, there are some who unknowingly inflict, and others, which delight in knowing that they have the power to crush dreams, and break souls, with a few well placed words, chosen with delicacy and care. Funny, how those words can be applied to this situation, and yet, ruin is almost synonymous with care and tenderness, for without time and effort, any ruin brought about is hollow and meaningless.

Faded

You would think that after years of struggle, and fighting, and keeping all the bad way, that I would succeed, and not have to bow down to these people. At the end of the day, though, God always reminds you that the game has been, and will always be in His hand. Knowing that should comfort me then. It shouldn't make me nauseous, and annoyed. It shouldn't still allow this feeling to remain, as though everything is going wrong, and the only person right now who can fix it is me. It's impossible to explain this to people who are giving their all to talk some sense into me. I feel as though I want to claw myself out of this bubble I'm in, and grab hold of the first life saver that I can find. The life saver in this case is prayer, which is away from me. I feel like running so far away, that finding me becomes impossible, and a distant memory in the minds of those who perhaps may search. I will become a faded reminder of what once was. A shimmering glow on the horizon, as light fades into darkness, and once again, the soul is blinded, silent, resigned and fated to await the next morning, which may or may not come. The reality of the situation feels so removed, as though I again remain on the fringes , watching quietly, and waiting for the impending explosion to rip away another part of me. It baffles me to realize that I still haven't figured out how to deal with these demons, these past encounters that continue to haunt me, and color all that I know and love. My protection, my arms can only extend so far, after which I sit, used, abused, and incapable of saving those whose cries echo in my ears, and give me cause to contemplate that which is in the eyes of God a crime greater than any other. I pray for strength, understanding, and some semblance of peace. The turmoil raging inside my being could not be so silent as to not strike warning bells inside all those whom see me, and yet they seem to want to wait and watch my next step before moving to do something.

Silence, it seems is the best path. For how long is yet to be decided.

Thoughts

You know, people say love like it's such an easy term to throw around ; as though it's not a phenomenon that should leave you stunned and in awe, but more, something that is as carefree as the appearance of dew on a rose petal in the morning. I feel sometimes, as though there is wrong with one of us. Either me, or the world. Either I take it far too seriously, or the world takes it far too lightly. How is it that you explain something like this? The feeling you get every night, that tingle in your limbs, and the constriction in your tummy. The smile that blossoms on your face, after lightly playing with your lips, teasing them until they have no choice but to accede to its wishes. The far away glance in your eyes, that you can hide from everyone, except yourself. The wistfulness that pervades your being when you see a love story, fictional, or otherwise. How do you convince yourself to wait, to be patient, for the one for whom all this is meant will come, as God has meant him to, and he will be all this and more .... he will turn to leave and your heartbeart will stop, he will look at you and your mind will go blank, your hands and feet will become numb, and he'll know exactly what he's doing to you, but he won't stop, because through some miracle, some ethereal work of God, as is everything else in this universe.... you....plain, little, old you, will make him feel the exact same way, and his carrying on will be his revenge for what you are doing to him every second of the day, whether he is with you, or not. Then comes the fear. It is well and good to have romantic notions, to paint pictures, close your eyes, and see it come to life before your very eyes, but what happens when you wake up, open those eyes, and the same dreams that you so lovingly cultivated and nourished, the same hopes that grew to alarming proportions, and that were help so delicately by you so as not to break, were shattered, with no thought as to how you would survive? How do you move on, and see beauty, when despair, and sadness pervade your soul? I wonder time and again, how it is that people are able to raise their heads high, and walk with a constant stride.

The Walk

As we go through life, we assume it will make more sense, and the thoughts that we had years ago will give way to amusement at their recollection. Chats about cooties will give way to talks of best friends, and then studies. Most of what we believe progresses in a desired pattern, but there`s one aspect of the particular journey that seems forever elusive. Satisfaction. That feeling of wholeness, completeness, which we all strive for, but none of us ever actually reach. For those who come close, I salute.

Sometimes, the best thing to do is lower your expectations and assume that maybe what you have is perfect satisfaction, and there could be nothing better. But it's never possible, is it? To admit that would be to admit that all the other hopes and dreams you harbor, all the milestones you strive to meet are all for nothing, and there was just wasting time when there could've been productivity.

In true reality, though, if you aim to be happy with the life given to you without striving for anything better, isn't it going against the Lord's wishes anyways, because though he has given you the power to make something of yourself, he has also given you the ability to make your own decisions.

Live on, breathe not the air that everyone else does, but find your own supply, walk your own path, and saunter if you have to. Make the most of what you have, while always striving for more. After all, there must be a difference between being content, and being happy. Or wouldn't they be the same word?

Conquer All?

In all attempts at decency, one fails to derive comfort from the wildness that is chaos. It shocks to realize that the most calming influence comes from disorganization, and a sense of freedom that constraint and perfectionism can never afford to give. It seems my flair has returned, but for how long is the essential question. I had a nice, short chat with a friend of mine yesterday, and it got me thinking. You believe, as you go through life, that you collect a well honed group of associates, people who you hope will never turn on you, and will always be there, through the good, the bad, and all the in-betweens. The funny thing is, you delude yourself into believing that they will always be there, and not once do you stop and check whether they diligently hold your hand and stay, or turn and scamper at the first sight of an escape, leaving only their shadow to stand by you in times of distress. Why such profoundly happy thoughts today? Perhaps it has to do with the new environment I`ve intelligently chosen to thrust myself into, a place where not only do I feel I don`t belong, but where I have a sense of "pity" following me, something I never expected to have felt for me. Though on the occasion, I have wanted a sympathetic ear, it has only been to dispel my fears and horrors for the time being, until I alone can conquer them once again. Life seems to be mocking me, and my, is it doing a whopping job. As for my chat, well, it only proved what I`d hoped someone would end up DISproving. Everyone does run away, and not many truly care. For those of you out there who do have someone who feels for you, and who is not scared to stand in front of you when the world aims their guns, I advise you from the bottom of my heart, thank God, and never let them go. There really isn`t anyone else like them. Truly.