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Homicidal Posts

Long time ago, I read this in a creative writing how-to- bulleted flyer, ‘Start with anything, even the chair you might be sitting on right now’. So I shall attempt to go homicidal on my procrastinating monster and start with the chair.
It’s a pretty non-committal chair if you look at it, does not make it any easier for me here. It is your regular textbook illustration of a straight-backed chair with ‘CHAIR’ underneath it. But the story it might tell you only if it could. 🙂

It all begins on a particularly bright day, the day felt alive, if you know what I mean. It was the day I was lined up to meet this one ‘suitable boy’, the alarming ‘prospective’. heretofore, I had ranted and raved about the ‘traversities’ (traverse+adversity- (personal sic!)) of a matrimonial mart but I was being dragged into it sullen and mostly rude. Everybody kept tsking at this behaviour, especially the ones who were under the illusion that I was a ‘good girl’ which automatically equates to charming acquiescence to anything proposed by the elders.

On this day, I was ready for him, he didn’t know what was coming his way! Wants to meet me, does he? Oooh, regret will be something that he’ll warm up to over the course of our meeting. I rubbed my hands in glee (every such apparent display occurs mentally of course- Ally McBeal has got nothing on me). I took extra care with my attire, patiently switching from one to another, until finally the family settled on the perfect coming together of colors, the perfect Abaya with the perfect scarf, draped in just that way. No matter the flourishes, I still had a chipped tooth to show. Like the static screech in the middle of a good scene, the tooth was a memento from an overzealous match sometime during middle school. I ‘Hah!ed’ with passion when I last checked my reflection in the mirror. The tooth shall speak for itself.

As I approached the designated hotel archway, I didn’t feel so sure. WHAT was I doing here? and that was the only intelligent string of words in my head that played over and over again until I was seated in front of the smiling lad. At least, I thought he was smiling, having most inconveniently forgotten the lens and being forbidden to wear the glasses, I just realized that the much angstipated (sic) meet was to be with a smiling blur.

I responded with what in my books should pass for a smile. I ahemmmed a couple of times, the lad wasn’t speaking up to begin the tirade as I had planned with a direct opening from the blur. I ahemmmed some more, clearly awaiting the demise of my well prepared argument. The blur was still smiling. Annoyance. Much.

I’d have to take things into my own hands then. ‘You had a few questions for me?’, I asked in what I thought was my best frosty voice. It came out sounding more shaky than I’d ever care to admit.
‘Questions?’, the blur asked in a perplexed voice. ‘Yes, questions. That was the purpose of this meeting, yes?’, I asked slowly, in my reason-with-the- toddler voice.

Random

What is with with wispy voices and delivering the truth in that level tone? I could never talk about something close to my heart without a pitch that went *khirrrr* on the ears. Noam Chomsky, I need lessons.

Giving people too much importance has gotten me no where, except for the healthy amount of scepticism that I reserve for everybody’s vehement convictions and that has served me well.

I must still learn to live that one profound hadith of the Prophet(peace be upon him), ‘Overlook’. That’s just one word but it teaches a lesson so deep that encompasses a whole life of wise, compassionate and enriched living, only if I can master it now.

Life should always be on a ‘more than this’ quest but never on an ungrateful latitude.

Rightfully Yours

I love the header! 🙂 Give it up for Zaufishan for the colors and her awesome Muslimness! 😀

 

 

Trying to defeat my own state of existence such as it is. This is an attempt at churning the wheels that refuse to move…I’m becoming uncomfortable under my own skin. I have decided to brave mediocrity and pour my words as they come, perhaps this will at least give voice to my opinion that sits smirking in the recesses of my mind.

 

Forgive me for stating the obvious; there is a rabid frenzy out there on the issue of Roy and her statements on Kashmir. I’ve been following the conflict of Kashmir with a great deal of interest, largely out of guilt that we are so unaware of our own brethren living a life in a manner that can only bespeak of shame in the wresting away of the rights of a land that is the pride of the democratic grandiose such as India.

 

Humanity has always been sacrificed at the altar of complacency but this is just not it, it transgresses this ‘minor’ infraction to something more, an unnatural detachment to the cries of the suffering. It’s just not Kashmir, it is the plight of such people under just such circumstances the world over.

 

 

Are we so caught up in our own geographical boundaries that ‘humanity’ stops short on the fringes of these lines on the map? Shouldn’t we endeavour to reach out to the bond that we share of that skimmed over entity, an ought-to in every pageant, the ballot of the politician, the vague grasp of everyman- Humanity. Lost in its own redundancy, yet, there’s nothing else to put it otherwise.

 

What of this state of Kashmir? It’s still a question now, time’s not too far when it might become a rhetoric, stops at a stone cold period. I’ve read up so much on Kashmir, the web is marvelous that way, everything has a flip side and it’s just a click away. If we have arguments that demand ‘Azadi’, there are those who argue against it.  Each diatribe is followed by comments, appalling and intelligent, mostly appalling. It’s baffling how we stew in our own self-importance and lose every shred of empathy. Any person who is less than empathetic with the Kashmiri heart speaks out of ignorance. If you are the true citizen you claim to be, read up on the Human Rights reports over the past many years, reports by international organizations not the piddle that the supercilious and self-serving dish out.

 

While I commend all of those who are speaking up for the people of Kashmir, each one raising points of great importance but now, all of them are in the danger of sounding like a broken record, each statement meant well, meaning the same, unfortunately becoming the verbiage of a friendly thesaurus.

 

‘Azadi’ may well be the hymn in Kashmiri lands but how is one to sustain this, grow as a…nation, if you will. Or the India, built on such grand ideals, takes up the cause to heart, reforms its approach, and wins the heart of Kashmir…

How are we to proceed? Do we see any agenda that is not just the grappling of a drowning governance but the oath of integrity, to follow and to deliver? Do we see the framing of a work plan by the Kashmiri leaders that won’t steep the people in greater turmoil than they are in already once ‘Azadi’ is realized?

 

 

 

 

If we look past the masses of parades of the distrustful and agonized, past the smoking ruins, past the ringing gun shots, past the whistle of flying stones, past the drawn faces of the military, leaders, government- not ignoring them but gathering them as we sweep over this conflict and embrace all of it, in hopes of giving comfort…not by cooking your own goose to serve a soulful soup but making amends, building bridges that will not and cannot be burnt.

 

Look past ‘Azadi’ as a power transfer, or warring interests, but as it is meant to be seen, freedom to live without fear or anger and the liberty to be happy as a people with due rights.

 

With Alacrity. Aaah the sound of it. I’ve always loved that phrase, only if I was synonymous with it, it would be symphony I tell you. My projects are synonymous with the pipeline which traverses eternity itself at the rate at which I’m going. How am I to conquer the world at this pace 😀

I baffle myself all the time.

Who would’ve thought I’d be a blogging chicken, shying away from posting only coz……I was full of it! Full of reasons, excuses, and empty angst! What of it now? Nothing, I’m putting my otherself on the ignore, I’ve had enough. About time me thinks.

So here’s hitting the ground running, putting up an absolutely non committal, insignificant post just so I can! hah! 😀 Subhan Allah! I’ve missed doing this, tripping over my thoughts as I run my fingers in a flurry over the keyboard, missing out letters,  grinning over a thought or just plain saying it like it is!

I wish I could twang the guitar in punctuation like Elvis to end the post and to a Thankyouverymuch smug closing. 😀

Feels good. 🙂

Mr.Lonely

The Notice I’d want to use outside the Centre for Islamic Studies,

 

Assalamualaikum dearest one and all,

Is it really so hard to put in a 10Rs Note from your exaggerated or not monthly earnings? If you haven’t noticed there’s a lonely looking piggy bank sitting right there, yes ‘piggy’ bank, there’s nothing here to go ‘astighfirullah!’ about- it’s just a name for pete’s sake! The piggy bank couldn’t help being named that way and incidentally a Pig, in spite of its ill-repute is still Allah’s (swt) creation and He knows best. Ok, digression. Sorry. What I wanted to really say is that you might’ve given generously about two months ago a neatly folded 10 Rs note or bright-shiny coins and this might be enough for you to ride the generosity float for quite sometime but really you must know that it’s not enough for the people who will be recipient of your blip-like generosity. Although they won’t complain, I feel the need to take you up by the collar and shake you till you see reason. And in this state of shock and disgruntle, excusing yourself with the tail between the legs is not enough, please go visit the lonely piggy bank and make it happy.

 

Thank you.

 

PS: our Piggy Bank is not even made after its namesake, it’s a Barbie doll trunk!