1st Muharram

Wanted to wish everyone in the Muslim Ummah a very Happy New Year.

Male Friends

While I was at the mall today, a friend called. I hadn’t seen Jini in a year, after a lot of emotional black-mail(me doing it) he being the sweetheart he is, decided to drop by. Usually, we meet in groups so, don’t get a chance to go wild or have a one on one talk- no holds barred. So there he was, formally attired, (which made me realize that all my male friends are exceptional dressers) putting on weight and since he is over 6 feet and broader then the average guy, I feel extra tiny. Come to think of it, I feel dainty in front of most male friends, since they all fall under the TDH category.

Found a corner booth at Uno Grill and over some melt in the mouth delicious brownies ala mode, Paradise and Spring smoothies, gossiped away to glory. I was royally pissed at him for several reasons but the good thing about male friends is that they don’t end the relationship the next day or throw the usual girlish-belly-aching-tanturms. He is one of those guys who is never serious, so he couldn’t be bothered about my fake anger. Is full of humour and a major flirt. The highlight of the evening was him asking me to help pick something out for his wife. It still has me grinning. I never thought it would be this much fun helping a guy get clothes for his wife. I am the no-fuss kinda shopper, I don’t deliberate and agonize over particulars, if I like something I go for it. I usually know what I want. He was delighted to find a woman who didn’t spend hours over one item. In over twenty minutes, I had an ensemble ready for him. He just pointed out her size and his budget and the particulars :D

You have to love a guy who would buy his woman something for no reason but to see her smile.

Last night, I was so far in the dumps I smsd a another particularly close male friend of mine. Shrek is considered a surrogate family member. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but even then Shrekie made me laugh with his corny remarks. I had to tell him he was my best “girl-friend” ever! Knowing him and his kinky humor, I couldn’t stop the grossly funny and embarrassing comments that followed. I went to sleep blushing! Shrek is the one of the most down to earth friends I have. Sure he can get nasty when the occasion calls for, but he is who I turn to for guy advice. Infact, most times he is my sounding board. To him I am just one of the guys.

Even though Buddha, Bill and Buffalo are spread around the globe, somehow with their emails, long distance calls they remain an integral part of my life. Buffalo, for some eerie reason keeps me in line. I think it comes with him being an army brat! Ever the proper gentleman with a subtle streak of wickedness. My cross-word helper and rain-teaser. Bill, is a much older friend and the wisest in my circle (both male and female). Actually, he’s already a grand-dad but I love the fact that I can discuss important matters and he handles them with a sensitivity and sensibility that is truly Bill. Buddha is my Sayonara, Ciaomingus, man. The one I can have highly intellectual conversations with.

Then there are Dimples and Bambi. Dimples still blushes and has the most amazing smile ever. The fact that he is a self-acclaimed workaholic who still finds time to call makes him all the more vital to me. Last of all and maybe the most significant is Bambi. We can pick up where we left off from. He is one of my closest friends. And on most occasions my anchor.

Over the years I’ve realized, that all my close male friends have been there during times of major upheavels in my life. I do have some very close, long-term and fiercely loyal girl-friends too, but some-how the guys have constantly been there. Continually, been in touch, made sure I was okay. Through life’s major crisis they come out of the woodworks and stand by me – both visible and invisible. Silently offering their unconditional support. I don’t ask, yet there they are.

Most are married, some committed, dads and grand-dad. Them willing to make time in their busy lives for me is more then I can ask for.

I am blessed to have such amazing guys as friends.

Therapy for the Blues

Rather then be set a-fire by a certain mischievous troll on blogworld I decided the best remedy to combat the blues was to go shopping! Therefore, I made a trip to the nearest mall. More to spend some time by myself rather than throw my hard-earned wages on useless trinkets. Actually, it was more of wanting to go loot some book-stores. I crave books like junkies crave a hit. So, I spent the better part of two hours at Magrudy’s and Book Corner browsing and happily splurging on some of my favourite authors. An “On Sale” sign, in a lingerie store caught my attention; off I went burning a hole in my wallet. Ofcourse, for my own pleasure. Book and lingerie acquisitions are always therapeutic. It was while I was cruising through Debenhams that something caught my attention. FEATHER DUSTERS! And mind you, not your run-of-the-mill car swiping feather dusters, but the small, dainty versions in orange and pink!!! I stared wide-eyed, trying to discern the reason behind their presence. Even looked around to see if there were any related items so that my mind wasn’t off on its wicked tangent. Since, there were none, my over-worked brain conjured some very naughty scenarios for their usage. Blushing, I made a hasty retreat. Lord, have mercy! How could a store in Dubai be carrying them?

I left the blues in the mall. :D

Blue

Am feeling Blue
Bluer then Blue

Too much is happening - and nothing is happening at all

So absolutely down and under

Emotions are simmering under a rigid lid

Somethings got to give. Or I'll burn myself out

Green Eyed?

About a decade ago, two of my friends were crazy in love. He was of the Palestinan/Jordanian gorgeous breed, while she was a tall, brown-eyed, pretty, Pakistani. They were going through a rough patch regarding marriage. Since, I didnt know the reason behind the tension, I asked him and this is what he said:

Him: Habibti, I cannot marry her. [Please read it in that special way Arabs speak English]

Me: Why on earth can't you marry her? You love her, don't you?

Him: (with a look bordering close to pain) Ya habibti, I love her very much! (he rakes a hand through his golden strands), but I tell you why I cannot marry her. She has brown eyes! She don't have green eyes!

(Nods his head, encouraging me to understand, while I shake my head in bewilderment)

Me: So? What does her eye colour have to do with anything?

Him: (Throws up his hands in despair), Wallahi! If I marry her, the children will have brown eyes and not green - like MINE!

I just stood there with my mouth agape, stunned at his logic. I thought maybe I should throw something hard at his head, didnt think it would have made a difference!

Last I heard HE was seen with his wife, a blonde haired, blue eyed Palestinan
Last I heard SHE was getting married to an Afro American.

Hope they produce the right eye-coloured kids.

Wonder if their children would ever meet?

REFLECTIONS

Busted a mammoth zit on my lip. Owwwwieeeee!!! Some way to start the morning. Probably sprouted like a wild mushroom when I wasn’t looking. Over the past week, my head has been taking frequent walks down memory lane. Brain feels on overload with images, conversations and way too many memories. Sleep was inconsistent, an amalgamation of disjointed dreams. Waking up and staring into nothingness, or was it the darkness in my mind.

Got up on the wrong side of the bed. Decided I needed some solitude. In my jammies and favourite Montreal sweatshirt made a beeline for mom’s dressing room. Snagged a box of Hobnobs and a pouch of Orange Capri-Sonne. Plopped my rear-end onto the step stool and was busy munching on my snack and trying not to think, when the taste of the tangy, orange juice took me head-long into my high-school days. It’s funny how food can trigger memory.

I loved high-school. Still do. It’s that awkward age when you realize you need to make decisions. The stage where you need role models. Where the differences between the sexes glares you in the face and you wish the boys who had been your best buddies would still be the same. The period when girls either turn into bullying beeatches or angels of decorum. It’s that excitement of growing up, of being wiser of being more knowledgeable. Sports and Studies. Of thinking you hold the world in the palm of your hand.

Things like being voted vice-Captain and Captain for one of the four houses was such an honour. Then prom princess on Prom night. I looked like a complete dud!!! Wonder what the judges were thinking. Some of the best times and some of the worst bloopers. Still cringe at some of the not-to-be-mentioned escapades I got into.

As a kid, adulthood had always seemed so far away, yet in retrospect I wonder if I ever really did grow-up or change. Fifteen years “up” the road, I believe I am still the same at the core, maybe just more streamlined. The extreme lows may have punched holes in my petite structure, but I’ve always bounced back. A stronger person. Don’t know if “better” is applicable here.

I’m still grouchy as a bear if woken when I’m not ready to leave dreamland.
Definitely not a morning person, if I don’t want to be.
Still give my folks migraines.
My rebellions maybe infused with subtleties, they are still rebellions.
Am the responsible elder child I was at ten, still am. SIGH
Organizing is a passion that has escalated with time.
Am a doer. A dreamer. Always finding ways to test my boundaries, my limits. Break some and make new ones.
A bookworm. Have been hooked since childhood. Have collections upon collections. An avid reader – was, am and will be.
Procrastinated - then and now.
Still escape into dark corners. Mom tells me as a three year old, I used to wander away. Whenever she’d come looking I’d be sitting in some dark room, talking to myself.

I haven’t changed.

Feel like having a spitting match with my 5 year old cousin. Maybe will do so tonight…

Find myself lying on the floor. The munchies are long gone. A strong wind is rustling the leaves, hustling the trees to turn her way. Hear birds chirping around, crows delighting in causing chaos. Close my eyes, take a deep breath and tune into the wind’s sighing. Contentment and Peace. Alhumdulilah

Will get up in a while to tackle the rest of the day.

MAGIC n MIRACLES

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed." Albert Einstein.

I've always liked Einstein, not for the scientist, but for the incredible man he was. Several of his quotes have had me in guffaws:

"When you sit with a nice girl for two hours, it seems like two minutes. When you sit on a hot stove for two minutes, it seems like two hours - that's relativity."

"Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves. "

Then there are those, that make me applaud his genius:

"Imagination is more important than knowledge"

"If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts."

My favourite is the one about believing in the mysterious. He knew what he was talking about. Wonder if he ever met any faeries or sprites. If he ever wandered into the magic realm of an insatiable mind. Probably did. Into the world of magic and miracles, of make believe.

Anyways, I've gone off on a tangent, didn't want to indulge in day-dreams when reality is surrounding me in a shroud. The happenings of the last few days have had me spinning in a vortex created by destiny. The corners are circles. Circles within circles

Magic and miracles. Thats my circle.

Of family and friends, of old and new, of loss and pain, of love and joy.

I'm still smiling through my tears. Still dreaming of a time that has gone and will come again. Cannot give up on that. CANNOT.

Of walking on air, frolicking in the waves, joining hands under the sea. Finding treasures where there are none.

Magic isn't what magicians create, its what you and I have within us. What we share with those we consider as, ours.

I am a miracle and so are you.

Nothing is impossible if you just believe.

This post is for everyone who BELIEVES.

And for those who don't its about time you did!!! (PsycheD!)

The following is something I had written for someone a lifetime ago. Seems appropriate to share it here.

Memories are Treasures
Miracles we Are
Surprises are gifts from Heaven
Firsts are what we give each other
And good-byes are never Forever

EBBING

Throughout the day have been on an emotional roller-coaster. Hope is hanging on an unravelling thread. Waiting has been endless. Three hours seem like an age. The past three days an eternity. No signs of change. The celebrations have lost their sparkle, the only glitter discernible is of unshed tears. Been distracting myself with the positive in life. Mind cant get past the images or the death like silence.

Every breath is measured
Every heartbeat monitored

I dread what tomorrow will bring.

INSANITY

CANNOT BREATHE!!

A numbing cold, sank its talons deep in my nose. Tried to shake it loose. Nothing seems to work.
Still can’t breathe.
Insanity on the roads. Wasted three bloody hours in different traffic jams throughout the main city.

Get an early Eid gift. Unexpected. Sweet.

Cows and bulls, jammed three deep in small Suzuki Vans seen whizzing all over the city. Truckloads of little goats squeezed cheek to jowl, being herded from one drop point to another. Their bleating is ignored, or is drowned by the deafening sounds of horns blaring. Traffic jams.

Juggling work.

A fight between two drivers at Karsaz. Traffic jam

A road dug up and no traffic police to control the outpouring of vehicles at happy hour. Traffic jam

Car catches fire on Saddar’s main thoroughfare. Road nearly cordoned off by the inefficient so-called Karachi Police. Smoke. Can’t breathe

Chest hurts. Not enough oxygen.
Rummage through and find the Nasal spray. SIGH

Have a really good talk with a dermatologist.

Saw our goats – they are BRATS!
Miss Maghrib prayers. Really getting mad.
Madness strikes. Organize a transfer of goats from Defence.
Get home. Headache coming on
Freeze at the door of my room. Its HIT by a tornado!
Hate untidiness

Blame it on the mysterious elves

Irritated beyond reason. Set a bowl of steaming pasta on my study table. SCREWED the polish. Damn there is a slight off color ring. Try to cover it with a POST IT. Then decide to pull my hair out for being so bloody preoccupied by irritation.

Reprimanded by my grandfather for not eating dinner with the family. DAMMIT!

Close to wandering into the anger zone.
Breathe through my mouth
Heat another bowl of pasta

Mix orange and apple juice. Nuke it! Tastes like cardboard – Sweet, warm, cardboard maybe with a bit of a bite. An acquired taste. HOT JUICE

Watch sister devouring BOUNTY with a glass of milk.
Insanity runs in the family
Cousins announce a COW/BULL tour of the city. Never done it before. Jot it down as experience.

Am laughed at for posing a stupid question about cows and bulls!

Some hotshot decides to put on an exhibition each year with a minimum of 15 different specimens of cattle. This year there are 17 huge, beautiful numbers. A continuous flow of the curious wander into the tent. Dust in the air and am close to the asthma attack that has been trying to creep on me throughout the day. Lots of jostling by idiotic men. Temper that’s been on slow burn all day nearly leaps out of control when a jackass deliberately butts into my sister. Wanted to throttle him. Some men just have to be touchy feel when women are around!!! Perverts

Have to get out of the stifling tent, get the girls and younger cousins out. Another pea-brained male makes a derogatory remark. Am holding on by a thread. A very thin thread.

Do these jerks forget that they come from women?

Slippered feet are dirtied by grime and a little kid throwing sand. Parents look on indulgently. MANNERS!!! Want to grab him by the collar and shake some sense into the lil brat. Should have worn my Doc Martens.

Feel like cussing like a seasoned sailor. Roll my tongue for control.
Clutch the nasal spray as a lifeline, hop in the car and try to breathe again.
Cruise through Zamzama. Take the back roads to Boat Basin. Stop for hot beverages.

Hardly anyone caters GREEN TEA. Have to do the honors of “sampling” the one that does arrive so everyone else can order. BLISTER MY TONGUE!!! Its blazing hot.

On the ride back, wind sneaks through the car windows and plays “hit the ear drum”. SCORES too!
Ghosts from the past flash in front of tired eyes. Can’t shut down my mind.
Have a raging headache.
Bow out of a past midnight basketball game
Wash feet
Havent prayed Isha or Maghrib. Feel miserable

It’s been absolute INSANITY

Tomorrow will be worse. Plumber arrives!

Want to walk with bare feet into the winter sea. Hear the waves skip gently to the shore. Feel the surf caress my ankles. Smell the ozone. Wander a little deeper. Raise my arms to the rising moon and feel peace settle in every corner of my being.

Am waiting for the witching hour when the water - sprites, elves and mermaids come out to play.

I have a death grip on reality, so I dont succumb to the illusions my fantasies create.

I BLEW IT!!! Damn! Double Damn. It started of as a pretty normal day (by my way of reckoning) and its ending in a gastronomical disaster of the first order. Its past my bed-time, WAY past my bed-time. After doing my usual juggling on the net, I craved something sweet. Since, I am trying to keep the intake on the low level, I decided on juice.

On walking out I find my sister and cousin busy making chicken n cheese sandwiches, all the while popping chocolate wafers like candy. Greed is a REALLY bad motivator. My craving cells sent up some pretty nasty messages to my brain and I made a beeline for the chocolate stash in the ref. It was while I was digging out a variety of the melt in the mouths that dad walks out, judges the scene and demands he wants some too!!! In the process wham went my head and hit the top frame of fridge. There I am rubbing my sore head when another sibling demands a TWIX fix. Well, so there we were father and daughters packing away like thieves in the night. Incorrigible lot. Wonder what mom’s reaction will be in the morning… or in a few hours.

Even after devouring several of those wrapped delights I had to go back and fix myself a grilled cheese sandwich. Next on the list is nabbing some salsa and tortilla chips from my sister. Her crunching away is making me salivate.

DAMN! She just ingested the lot – Im too cold to walk out and get some more. :(

Tomorrow, I’ll be a lot more stronger. (spritely’s sweet tooth gives a swift kick to her tongue for that lie..OWwwww)

ECHOES OF THE PAST

A faded grey gate looms in front of the car. The color has started to peel. A row of coconut palms still stand sentinel outside the main white washed wall. Their agelessness a testament of storms weathered.

There stood a custard apple tree right inside that gate, its branches offering both fruit and adventures for little arms and legs. Gone in the name of modernization. The large swing set, where countless arguments and fights erupted, where friendships were strengthened, the opposite sex discussed with fascination, where day-dreams were shared, where nothing more important then the next summer adventure was discussed. Is no longer. Just memories in its place. On closer inspection, slight abrasions in the marbled floor tell the story of the countless number of times that swing was used. For childhood pleasures.

Echoes steal around the house that was one a home bursting with love, where voices resonated with laughter, joy, sorrow and anger. A harmony of the old and young. Where respect was earned and love showered. Children running in a dishabille state. Uncles and Aunts. Weddings galore. New births. Mistakes made, lessons learned. Brother shed blood for brother. Four generations under one roof. The old taught their ways to the young.

The last pillar of the fourth generation fell, leaving a void that couldn’t be filled. Then began the infiltration of a poison that seeped through crevices of the very foundation that stood on love and harmony. On brotherhood. On trust. Wealth, greed, envy caused a slow disintegration of values and morals that had been preached and practiced by the elders. Brother against brother. Cousins no longer the true childhood friends they once were.

A garden that used to bloom no matter what the season goes to waste under the care of a hired gardener. No love to spare, just little bouts of happiness to fill small flower pots for a few months. One by one, the ancient trees are brought down. The mango tree, then the elm tree, now the coconut palm. Only one person shed tears of grief and felt her heart shatter at the demise for something that once was…an object of love.

The patio is no longer a shelter from the noon sun; it is just a pathway to the house. The terrace has echoes of rain-filled days, of hopscotch, of the bamboo swing that one spent lazy autumn days in, of sleeping under the stars on hot summer nights, of hearing mice scampering of to their little hideouts. Of feet tapping to the sound of the latest rock band. Now the doors are locked and feet barred from entering a space that has been taken over by a newcomer in whose estimation childhood memories are of no consequence.

Dust gathers in nooks and crannies where once a mote of dust was sacrilege. Decorations broken by disrespectful children are never replaced – not by them or by their parents. Paintings have lost their luster, books are gathering dust. Attics are over-flowing with a century old treasure, left to rot, since their worth isn’t monetary but sentimental.
Amidst this faded splendor wakes an old woman. A servant wheels her each morning to her designated spot on the sofa, from where she rules her now close to barren home. No matter what the time, she will be the first one there and the last one to go to her room. You will see her napping on that couch, eating there, offering her prayers, calling all her relatives, watching the telly, She has started suffering from short-term memory loss, yet she watches over that empty house like she did when it was bursting at the seams with the comings and goings of her children, their friends and then her grandchildren.

Each evening as the sun dies another silent death, an old man makes his way to her side. He has returned from work. Her companion for the more than half a century. The patriarch of, not just his family, but of an entire clan. On that couch they share a cup of tea, or whatever fruit he may have brought her. They sit and talk of their day. Reminisce of years gone by and in doing so share the ever-present loneliness that can bring people to their knees.

They are my paternal grandparents.

I don’t know how I would react if that sofa were every empty.

I constantly hear the echoes of happy times gone by.

Author of "The Joy of Laziness" ....Peter Axt and Michaela Axt- Gadermann.

Available at Paramount Book Stores.

Its a definite read.

THE JOY OF LAZINESS

I’ve been reading a book titled “The Joy of Laziness”, and I’m in seventh heaven!!! It’s telling me to do all the things I love doing except one – EATING! Besides that I also need to slow down my pace in life so that I can save more “life energy” – but it’s a blast. Anyone who is living the high, roller coaster life and needs to laze more should definitely pick it up and for those who like me love to laze, here is proof that we are on the right track. Sleep as much as you can, laze in bed. Ohhhhh man, Im in love with the guy who wrote it.

No more cold showers!!! (hate those), no more excessive exercising (there are other ways to stay fit without becoming the next Arnold Shortknicker), no more waking up exhausted after a late night. It also states that the average man can live upto 150 years of age, so why not give it a shot. Live healthy and at a much slower pace, not just physically but mentally too. I think we of this generation do everything to extremes, like accumulate stress, party too hard, work even harder, depression hits most of us every six month, nothing is ever enough. My great-grandfather lived over a 100 years and MashaAllah he was perfectly alright. He must have been doing something right.

Although, one thing that the book advises on and I couldn’t really give my 100 % to YET, was to start eating moderately, I’m trying and it aint so bad since I miss out one meal anyways and no more snacking between meals! I keep the snacking and bingeing for Sundays. I just finished a leisurely lunch at work, chewing this way and that and finding it hilarious since I was giving my taste buds a serious workout. Oh the pleasures of life, I think the said taste buds have been tantalized and satiated till dinner. Well, I’m a woman who appreciates the fine things in life, fine food, fine chocolate, fine men…ooopps PAUSE – Rewind – Delete… - (the fine men are on my ignore list these days, since I keep falling for scumbags and hence this year I’ve decided to change my type from tall, dark and handsome. My sister suggested short, stout, balding, ugly – it took some mental assimilation to swallow the image. I think the image got stuck in my throat, I had to cough. God, I have nothing against the kind my impish sister suggested, just that never gave them any thought, makes me seem very petty. Hell, I can’t help it if my hormones do a jig every time I chance to see the tall, dark, handsome version!! SIGH!!!! – Maybe the men should stay on the ignore list and I can save some very idiotically wasted life energy from depleting even further.) I think I’d live life like a turtle( who is a bit more active then the tortoise - lol) rather then a busy bee whose life span is about a few weeks only. On these two happy notes, I declare it SIESTA time.

Happy Napping! :D

PS – I know I digressed, it’s a bad habit…I roll from one topic to another without warning. Bear with me.