Sunday, August 20, 2006
There are no photos anywhere, Boo grumbles to herself as she paces the house in a reckless fervor at an ungodly hour. She has lost herself in a world that she hates, whispering empty promises to herself that she will survive. Boo puffs at the glass pipe she’s been toying with. It is almost revolting, her only escape. She makes a face no one can see because it is dark. It is always dark.
Em walks a lot. Most of the time aimlessly, or because he must do what he does for there is nothing else to do.Ah, here we are. The busiest street in all of London. Where no one looks at anyone and people are a part of the ever-growing madness.Em stops; just for a second; just to feel himself breathing. No one stops with him. They will swerve left or right to avoid collision. It is almost unbelievable to him that the grey skies here never end...
Deeb rubs his red eyes. He cannot understand why he goes in and out of these phases. And it was too late to change the habit that had now become his second nature. He tries to snap back, to listen to the on-going conversation carried out by the people he likes. Supposedly likes. Maybe it’s the allergy acting up again.Deeb inhales a ridiculously large amount of sheesha.He hears the conversation turning towards him, as always. His lack of interest. His silence. And of course, the blackness. He shakes his head and takes another swig. Calm nerves? You wish.
‘No, no, I don’t know,’Ik replies to his ever-persistent mother. There was no reason, there were never any reasons. Its just the way he was moulded, not even by himself maybe.Ik hears her going on in the background, about so many things he’s always refused to deal with. He picks up his mahogany drumsticks, plugs in invisible headphones, and beats away into the night air.
Eha sits. And sits. She twiddles her thumbs till they bore her and she wonders why we have thumbs anyway.See, that is the problem with alone time. You have too much time for yourself. Good thing she has much that needs to be sorted out. Like her father’s angio that may or may not save him. The sudden cold shoulder by her would-be fiancé, and his knack for ignoring what she would like to call dreams of a better future.Indeed, there was much to think about.
Riza can hear the people in the next room going at it with full force. He sighs to himself, covering his head with a thin pillow. He lies wide awake under it, thinking about the only thing he thinks about all the time. In bars, classrooms, in the dead of the nights. He pulls out the letter, the picture, and every single fragment he has of her in his mind.Riza lets himself drown in a morbid elusion while someone next door screams in painful ecstacy.’Oh God…,’he covers his face with his empty hands.
It’s true that Sham avoided every possible discussion that lead her into think that she’s been building herself shattered dreams all the while she was married. Life now consisted of all work, and almost no play. There was nothing to play with anymore. The kids had grown into better or worse versions of herself and were living what they’d like to call a life. Another anniversary goes by unwished. Sham continues her chant on prayer beads.
And at precisely 12:01am, they all hear it…an explosion. Almost as if pulled by invisible string, they rush to look upwards into the sky. The sudden burst of orange, red and blue leaves them in awe. A quiet repose. The sight of it is all the assurance they need…all the assurance they could ever possibly get. The circus has come to town to take away the darkness of the graveyard.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
tractor ki ek light jal rahi thi.pakistan zindabad.
The realization that I'm leaving the best part of me behind made me cling to her more.I just wouldn't let go of her dupatta in liberty today,like I used to do when I was a kid in big stores where gori aunties wore pink lipstick with blue jackets.
I want to pack her in my duffel bag,to help me go through with this inane decision of mine.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
fooki sits on my lap to use the computer cuz i wont get off.i hug him from behind just because and i put my ear on his back to listen to his big heart in his little body.he is working out now and swimming and footballing.he is a big boy now,an unshaven,ugly-looking big boy,who wears his heart on his sleeve for the world to see.i put on 'ek ajnabi (STRANGA,DANGAAA) while he is on his phone to piss him off.it works=).what does 'choot ka toka' mean anyway?he speaks to me sometimes in a language i dont understand,and yet i do and its weird but i guess thats how it works with me and him.he's my invisible best friend and i think i will name him conch.aahahahahahha.just stuff fooki.just stuff.
acha i dont know how fooki relates to pink bathrooms,but its all relative=)
and at times I don't feel like the string of fibre holding things together,quite the rock that shatters the glass of your neighbour's window.