Short Sweet Shenanigans

Children are designed to make us want to devour them like fluffy blobs of cotton candy.

But what to do when they start picking their noses on purpose? Despite telling them not to?

Dammit Janet. 

Untied Shoelaces and Leggy Blondes

It's really obvious that I've been getting into Sufism lately. Okay it isn't that obvious but I have been researching. Songs, poetry, ideologies etc.

While I was meandering through the hallowed halls of Sufism (an adjunct to Islamic faith) I stumbled into the concept of Zikr. Now this word translated - according to my meager knowledge of linguistics - mean 'to mention'. It is also a common theme running through Sufism and Islam. In regards to Muslims, Zikr is basically repeating God's name/s. Sufis however take it a step further. When they take part in this practice, they picture the word 'Allah' etched onto the flesh of their hearts in Arabic.

It's actually a funny story that this fact came up when I was just puttering about the internet (Hem Hem Wikipedia), because I once had a dream in which the word Allah was written on my chest in noorani lettering. Pretty bad ass and life altering if I do say so myself.

Disclaimer: This post is just a teensy part of Sufism and completely based on my understanding of what I've encountered so far. So yeah.

Peace out.

Holy Cheesus

Cult Name: Fotonot

Cult Characteristic: Unphotogenic

Cult Motto: Why Not?

For those of us who can't get that picture perfect picture, there is the art of photo bombing. Our weapons? Our tongues, eyes, hands, expressions etc. Basically anything that ruins that "poseur chic".

Let's face it. Those who look awkward on film stick out in a picture even when they TRY to mimic and blend in. So why not? Why not let out our inner goof? Everyone ends up with a memorable laugh.

Guess which one I am 

North of Beautiful

A book I picked up randomly by the author Justina Chen Headley. I was expecting to read another story about overcoming insecurity and usual teenage angst. What I got instead was well written prose that was thought provoking and magnetic. I was unable to put the book down until I read those last words. The characters were well described and I was able to get an overall picture rather than a snapshot of someone’s face. Their personalities were embodied by their gestures and words. The entire book wouldn’t be called depressing but poignant. The emotion was sharp and well targeted. It’s a book I would read repeatedly just to bring myself out of a wallowing funk. The issues described in the book are a bit uncommon, focusing on emotional abuse rather than anything physical – showing how words served to entrap people into unhealthy relationships. The book is all about overcoming dependency on people and their opinions and giving credence to our own self worth. It’s about exploring new avenues and smashing all the beliefs we were brought up with and reconstructing our own.

In specific regard to the book, I compliment the author on her portrayal of Jacob, who serves as a portal to the main character Terra when she seems to be stuck in a rut and unable to speak out. He extends a hand and offers her a new perspective on her life and he helps her transform into the person she was supposed to be if she and her family accepted her completely from the beginning and didn’t deign to add snarky remarks to the mix.

Another plus point for the book is that it shows the progression of other characters, especially her mother. The focus isn’t solely on Terra. A normal teenager would focus on just the downside but this author just presents the facts. The dialogue is minimal. The lack of verbosity in the book adds to the pathos and the body language speaks for itself.

The book shows how the definition of ‘jolie laide’ changes for Terra. Literally translated it means ‘pretty ugly’, but as she goes on she discovers it means something that draws the eye to itself – you can’t look away because it’s mesmerizing. Overall, a good read.

Ransom Notes Keep Falling Out Your Mouth

Do you know the best part of a song?

It's the minuscule pause right before your favorite verse. It's where you hold your breath right along with the singer - the rest of the world listening to that exact song with you experiencing the same rolling sensations as you.

And that's where you should draw back that veil and lose yourself. Not going to quote Eminem to all of you but you guys get the picture.

Fries and Burger Mayo

I keep looking for similarities between Karachi and my hometown but I am completely adrift. This city will swallow me whole.

I keep gripping my mothers hand tightly, trying to telepathically scream at her to not leave me -TAKE ME HOME DAMMIT - but I still had to endure that tearful goodbye.

I keep doing things that remind me of my friends, but it doesn't really reduce the gaping distance between us.

Things are indeed changing but my life from now on will be a mosaic of the little things - from my colorful bed spread to my first food induced stain on them.

So my prayer for tonight is:

Oh Lord, don't let me be sad and don't let anyone make fun of my neon blue bathrobe.

P.S. Take care of my mother for me.

Ums, Ahs and Awkward Silences

The title of this post sums up quite nicely what is currently going through my barely coherent mind. All I can do is maintain a semblance of normalcy. I read a book, choked down a few pieces of chicken and made use of the passwordless wifi signals wafting through the air.

These last few days have been filled with what I can only describe as a flurry - of movements, of words, of thoughts and countless emotions. More than once I likened myself to a scrabbling rat trying to gather my childhood to my chest. The singular pink wall, the mismatched furniture, even the warbling of a deluded cousin will be sorely missed.

I came to terms with the fact that I was leaving for Karachi, but it hasn't really registered with me that in a few days my safety net will truly be gone and I'll be floundering.

But for now, I'm keeping it classy. No nuclear meltdowns in sight, invisible audience! Wish me luck for AKU :)

For Someone

It’s been two years since she left. Time has not been kind. I still cry at every mention, every memory. A person who loved me more than anything – and as time passes I learn that anything doesn’t begin to describe what I feel for her.

I am sad that you didn’t get to see me become a better person. I am grateful that you always saw that potential in me, and I am sorry for not believing you at the time.

For someone who is sorely missed.

Naseem Fazal. 

The Possibilities

Imagine.

You could be a new person. If. If 'that' did not happen. If so and so never went away. If you never lost myself - my way.

Just if...

The word if holds nothing but fear for me. I look at it with hooded eyes. Wary.
The ramifications of an "If" being realized is terrifying.
The possibilities of being. The multi-pronged reality we live in.

The cat is both alive and dead.

It Happened One Day...

To speak as one. 

To weep as he weeps for his soul. 

To feel as he feels-euphoric.

To live as he does.

To try.

This is what it is to wade through Rumi's verse. I discovered him in an old corner bookstore - drawn to his presence, his words.

"My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure if that, and I intend to end up there"

And I don't think I can turn my back on him just yet, at least not without a full Tehqiq. I am meandering through the maze he shoved me into and true self awareness lies at the center.

"Close both eyes.. to see with the other eye"

Cache Up Front

So I recently discovered this gorgeous (because I did not want to use wondrous) activity called 'GeoCaching'. It's something I am immediately putting on my BucketList and I sincerely wish it gains popularity here in Pakistan (there are around 10 caches in Pakistan). I'll try as a recently reformed muggle to spread the word to the best of my abilities.

What these people do is they leave these containers called caches all over the globe. GPS devices and clever clues lead explorers to the places that guard these boxes (benches, trees, crevices etc). These caches are usually filled with a myriad of items and a log book. The items are added or removed by the people who discover these treasures and leave their names behind on the list of those who preceded them.

Can you imagine going around the globe and discovering boxes filled with memories and even leaving a piece of yourself behind?

My advice would be: Google it, find a site and register. You should have a smart phone or a GPS device and your own means of transport. Be adventurous and let this girl bound by a Char Deewaari live vicariously through all of you.

1001 Books to Read Before I Die: I

Running with Scissors-Augusten Burroughs

Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes - Chris Crutcher

The Things a Brother Knows - Dana Reinhardt

When Crickets Cry - Charles Martin 

You, Maybe: The Profound Asymmetry of Love in High School - Rachel Vain
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books - Azar Nafisi

So B. It - Sarah Weeks

A Brief History of the Dead: A Novel - Kevin Brockmeier

The Color Purple - Alice Walker

Impulse - Ellen Hopkins
Lush - Natasha Friend

From a recent book kick, these are some of the books I couldn't acquire (sobs heavily). Anyone who manages to come across my blog and happens to have one of these MUST at ALL costs mail them to me. Pretty please? An eternity of servitude will be pledged to the sender of these elusive ebooks. 

P.S. I accept any format (pdf, lit or anything else with software directions). Just drop me a line and I'll give you my email address

Lots of love <3 <--- this is a special heart 

AKU. Class of 2016

I've restrained myself from doing this anywhere apart from the recesses of my convoluted noggin, but it's far too tempting to resist..

I'm IN IN INNITY IN, I said I'm IN IN INNITY IN. IN IN IN!

Yes people, after a year of aimless meandering and theatrical agonizing I have finally triumphed. The ship that will take me to my future is visible just over the horizon. I can see the proud masts with their opulent sails.. And I'm truly content - a touch nervous but content nonetheless. It has been far too long for me and I would like to stretch this joy over an indefinite period of time.

Cheers

Anyone willing to take me to kokomo?

Chori Chori

I can still hear the instruments ringing in my ears. The sitar, the xylophones, the tablas, guitar and the odd but fitting presence of the drum set brings an indulgent smile to my face. The very existence and essence of this certain song defines my life at a certain point.

In this world of fast paced music filled with sticky beats and guttural voices, Coke Studio brought a song into my life that completely unhinged my perceptions of modern music. This piece of music represents the transition between tradition and the new age. The very composition of it suggests the integration of old with new, and the resulting mixture resonates with all who listen. Understanding the importance of our culture and native history, I saw this song for the treasure it is. I saw it uniting the people who sat in front of their televisions swaying to the beats of this melody. The singer Meesha Shafi manges to entrance those who listen – regardless of age.

My own attachment to this song stems from the hour long drive my mother and I took to Islamabad. This ballad came on the radio and she explained the meaning of the lyrics to me. The song talks about how this woman slowly falls in love glance by glance; and instead of the usual movie induced frenzy in declarations of undying love, she waits.

Without knowing about it, I locked my eyes with you (and fell in love)

Very quietly, Very discretely…

In that moment, I felt a kinship to the unknown woman. I had been through a similar experience. The first time I seriously felt something for someone started with just a look. It wasn’t love at first sight, (or lust as I refer to it) it was naught but a fleeting look. It was something that grew with every peek, and it proliferated in silence.

But the simpleton I am..

I sit here, waiting for you to come to me

Assuming the unnamed woman met the same fate, we were both left hanging for something that didn’t happen. We waded through our maelstrom of emotions and came out resolute. Both of us acknowledge that our actions were silly, but it was something we had to do. We lingered for that person, whose attentions empowered us so – made us confident in our passive pursuits. Even though we were disappointed, we drew strength from the let down. Now I look back on my past and think fondly of my adventures and determination – without regrets coloring my memories since I wasn't expectant of a happy ending in the first place. I was content with just watching and waiting. 

I will keep this love hidden from the rest of the world

Nevertheless, the love I have for you is safe..

Adventures of the Bookish Kind

Every book is a rebirth. Except for the really trashy ones. The ones in which men ask women to give them their fire. I mean seriously. THAT is the reason I giggle over anything love related.

I'll be watching a chick flick with my friends. A particularly romantic scene comes up and all of them are clutching at their chest, some even tearing up at the emotional overtones. Me? I'm usually sitting on  my cushion stuffing my fist into my mouth to prevent myself from laughing like a maniac. It's because I know that such passionate declarations of love through grandiose gestures almost never take place. This quote sums up my post quite nicely:

"True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked.”

Matchmaker I

So out of my non existent audience, who thinks that types exist? No I'm not referring to the system of classification but to the classification of a gentler persuasion. I, of course, refer to THOSE types. As in romantically speaking *wink wink*

So the question goes do you really have a type or does the universe conspire to have your lady bits jump to attention for the same kind of person? *not discriminating* I realize that my question is rather confusing as they refer to separate topics, so I shall divide this post. YES. I can do that *evil/innocent smile*

The first issue at hand is types. Do we really gravitate to one specific type cast? I know of several cases where girls flock to similar people enough to generate a periodic function. Like the chick in eat, pray, love. She kept talking about brown italiano pool worthy eyes she wanted to dive into..

So does that mean that girls will always be on the look out for men with these characteristics? Will they miss out on some equally wonderful but doesn't quite fit the bill guy? Or will they be unhappy because that man doesn't fulfill their id completely? You know.. I really don't know o.O

More on cosmic intervention later. When I have two brain cells to rub together.

Stay tuned listeners!

Old Occurrences

So I was thinking about some bloopers I could post here and one recent one stood out. So here i am at a cousins birthday party when I discover these helium balloons. I rush them home with the phrase message in a bottle going around in my brain. getting the picture now are we?

I write out a two page soliloquy of my life and it's around midnight and I am imagining someone plucking those balloons from a rooftop and reading my missive and voila instant friend!

so I tie up the paper and i rush out in the dead of night..say a little prayer and I let it go...you might be wondering where my little pen pal is and why am I writing in a blog...well...he doesn't exist! Just as soon as I let the message go, the balloons got stuck in some electric cables. RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FRIKKIN' HOUSE O.o

so you'll understand when I say Desmond is not a pal of mine

P.S i woke up and checked the cables in the morning. The balloon had mysteriously vanished. I just pray that none of my family read it. XP

Ground Breaking

I prefer to sit on the floor.

Most people look at me funny when I tell them this quirk about myself, but the truth of the matter is I do some of my best thinking at ground level. I can recall dozens of incidents where my brown carpet has helped me through some rough patches in my life.

My habit may seem strange, but it makes me feel like the world is at my finger tips. Maybe it’s because my spinal column is aligned or maybe I just like that it’s cooler down there. All I know is that I’ve done some of my best work sitting on the earth cross legged.

The very first time I picked up a pen with the intention to write for solely my selfish pleasure was on the flagstones of verandah of my one story house. I picked up a pen that transformed into a vessel for my liquid essence. There was nothing I couldn’t express with an artful turn of phrase. My words were my reflection and a portal binding me to the world.

Those first few moments of revelation turned my life around. I now proudly call myself an author, a poetess, a lyricist and a sketch artist. I have spent years dedicating my time and patience to the pen and its multifaceted existence. It paid off through my grades, through recognition – however limited - and it was all because I could not find a chair to sit on. 

Black and White

Do you know how many advertisements on face whitening creams run everyday on Pakistani television? That, my friends, is the perfect example of brainwashing.

Let me describe a typical ad. Girl likes boy. He rebuffs her advances initially. Her mother/well-meaning friend hand her a tube of something named brido whitening bleach or fair and lovely cream. She applies the lotion to her face and presto! She transforms into a lighter version of herself. When the boy sees her he instantly falls onto his knees and proposes marriage to her.

Lesson of the day? You will never get a husband if you don’t change yourself. Really because that’s the most important thing going on in our lives. We – as Pakistanis – are at the heart of the war on terrorism. We have a society segregated by class and wealth. We are dealing with our second bout of flooding in a short time frame and still repairing the lives of those who suffered in the earthquake. Our politicians keep getting assassinated and our economy is basically in the slums. Our streets are not safe for kids to play in and we do not have access to the local library unless we are an army family. We have to schedule outings and we do not need a curfew because we can not leave the house as we please. We have to face constant sexual harassment and abuse. We don’t learn an instrument or foreign language in school because our education systems are already working at highest capacity. There are still places in our city where people live in houses full of mud and it is not odd to be bombarded by a slew of beggars when you leave your home.

But lets not discontinue our daily beauty regimen, shall we?

Ch-Ch-Ch-CHARLIE!

There are just some people out there that never fail to put a smile on your face. Charlie McDonnell is one of those people. And what's so amazing about this guy is that he does it on a global scale! Yay Charlie! Check him out on youtube. Search for charlieissocoollike <3

See. Want. Do

So I finally got over my lazy streak and joined the ranks of blog-dom! A lot of my friends were making accounts, so I thought why not? It's a good way to remain immortalized in the virtual world even if we die during the whole 2012 thing or get hijacked by ninjas or axe murderers!


Okay so my lawyer forced me to say that the above message was NOT a threat or a prediction. Justsoyouknowandall. :)

Or WAS it? *evil laughter*