A Boy for MY Girl!

As you lie giving birth to a new life, I feel a multitude of emotions. Like fluttering colorful butterflies boldly entering a garden, my inner self is filled with nostalgia, memories, delight, ecstacy, concern but more powerfully, a feeling very seldom felt; of being touched.

Because only I know the purity of these emotions, their exclusivity, and their depth; I want to explore them, understand them and more importantly share them with you. As I sit praying that everything goes well, my eyes swell with tears. I return to the days of second grade where we shared mundane items like stickers, where the ULKER biscuits packed as a lunchable for you were something I searched your bag for everyday, where we loved playing 'teacher-teacher', where life was bland yet innocent.

I'm reminded of times and memories that I haven't visited in years; of high school, where each of us was learning the harsh, pointed realities of relationships, where maybe we were naive enough to let emotions control us, where we dived into emotions, drowned and learnt how to swim or stay on shore. I think you learnt to swim, but I was too affected by my experiences, I decided to stay on shore and avoid deep waters. There lay somewhere the seeds of the women we were going to become.

From being the butt of our jokes, which I can still laugh at (Kashmiri...), we graduated to foreign lands where the only thing familar and comforting was each other. Where we could talk, cry, laugh, discuss late into the night. We spent hours trying to make sense of our weird lives and complicated relationships; the craziness of which only we understood for each other since sane individuals would judge us. Life wasn't planned, we were impulsive. We could plan and book an entire trip within 2 nights, just to see each other. Rather to see the potential significant other of each other, we had to be sure they passed the test. We couldn't trust each other with just anyone.

My favorite memory of our times together was as 7 year olds, the joy we found in scaring birds away just so that we could throw their eggs down. It sounds so sadistic, but we were just confirming gravity:). The late night swim at your pool working out logistics of your wedding, our favorite arena.

Your most endearing quality was how you'd search anything and everything coming out of my mouth on the internet, I know that requires true love and patience. I just rememberd how you'd leech onto my unlimited NESMA internet connection, and how you wouldn't get off in time for my "dates".

We've matured, grown, and come a long way. Married, trying to comprehend the intricacies of creatures called "husbands", of smart ways to handle icky situations. Thank God, we constructed KP from years of research, and learning. It sure comes in handy.
You thought I would have forgotten the times and memories but I want you to know they lie deep within me in a very sacred and special place. That place you built by being a great friend, by never changing, by always trying, by seeing me through different storms and seasons, by always loving and giving unconditionally, by never giving up on my and our friendship.Maybe that is exactly why you have the power to stir such emotions in a "me" that has become very stoic.

I hear from reliable sources that in the state of unconsciousness, you were saying my name. It's only one of the many reminders of how much I still mean to you despite the distances, through the years and seasons of life. I wish I was there to see my second grader friend give birth. It feels incomplete and disloyal sitting so far away.

But, as you enter this new era of your life, I want you to know that just like everything else from stickers to marriage, this one too, we'll share together. We'll show each other the beautiful even when it's ugly, we'll construct new chapters for KP, we'll add to our rich heritage.
It's 1 AM, my nephew is only a few hours old and since I can't do anything else, I wanted to pay tribute to his mother who has been and will rightfully always be my best friend.

Congratulations! I'm sooo happy for you!
Another boy to educate, clean after, and handle...:)

She Needs to be Saved

She was pure, as pure as a virgin.
She had poise, she had a unique stature.
At her inception, she was blasphemous. She challenged the evils around her.

She fearlessly stood up against injustice, discrimination and inequality.
She was the first among her time to preach such a revolution.
She was inclusive, she symbolized peace.
She strived for progression; revolted against stagnant dogma.
It was these attributes that contributed to her success in various arenas.
She had a lot to brag about from Science to academics, from human rights to women empowerment; she was revolutionary.

Until the day she was kidnapped.
Taken to an unknown mountainous terrain by a group of men.
Bearded men who abused her for their pleasure and convenience.
Robbed her of her essence;freedom.
Deprived her of her fundamental right; the right to think,the right to disagree.
They stole her identity, they murdered her progressive vision.
They rendered her incapable of assimilating and co existing with others.
Ironically, her most beautiful trait was her flexibility, and adaptability.
For these qualities made it easier to seek her true goal; spirituality.

The assaults have become worse.
The group of men is growing; they are enticing more innocent minds into this heinous crime.
They've become her guardians; they and only they have the right to speak on her behalf.
The rapist speaking on behalf of the victim; the irony.
After all, it is they who have held her captive.
Zealously preaching dogma in her name, the masses have become their gullible, thoughtless audience.

They slander her reputation.
Her purity is tarnished everyday by each crime they commit in her name.
They use her as a shield for their sins.
The world has started questioning who she really is; is she inherently evil,
violent, and intolerant?
For it is in her name that blood is shed, authority demanded, and innocent minds poisoned.

I don't want to be a bystander while a crime only becomes uglier in grandeur.
That's not what she taught, that's not what she symbolized.
She needs to be rescued, she needs to be saved.
Like everything else, these barbarians will leave her in mutilated pieces.

And we'll all be guilty.
Guilty for doing nothing to find her, guilty for not challenging her abductors, guilty for remaining silent, guilty for passively listening to illogical, unfair dogmas, guilty for doing the most convenient thing; nothing.

She is my religion; Islam.

Water

I can be as subtle and cleansing as a drop on a leaf. Sliding gently,unharming and doscile.
I can be abundant and generous like a well needed rainfall.
I can be placed at the bottom and I know how to make my way up. I can defy gravity.
I can make myself essential to others lives while still maintaning my independance.

I know how to find my way to the deeper ends, to where my dreams lie.
I know how to handle resistance. I'll try negotiating but my instinct is to keep going.
I know how to gently move the largest boulders, inch by inch. Not dramatic, but strategic.

I have enough force to move things that fall along my path.
I'll make them flow with me, I'll make my destination their destination.
I have enough will to start as a drop and end as an ocean.
If I'm met with sustained resistance, I'll dissolve my obstacle but I can not and will not stagnate.
For stagnation is death and death I resist.

I absorb what is thrown at me and in me. Without a ripple, I internalize it. It adds to my force, it adds to my substance.
I only know how to move forward, I do not look back for the ocean is ahead and not behind.
I can be warm when I feel that is what is required.
I can be cold when my surroundings compel me.

I can be whatever is required of me.
I will keep flowing till I reach my destination.
For a drop to reach the ocean, the journey is long and so I must flow.
I can create and I can destruct to get to where I want.

I am water.
I am Water....

I Wish You Weren't Home

He comes homes after a long day at school and there she is waiting for him. Expressively and passionately tells him every single chore she did while he was away, and how much she missed him. Tired, he listens and feels loved and special.

He comes home after a late night party with friends. She's waiting with drowsy eyes and a lecture on how he doesn't care about her, how she stays awake for him, how good boys don't behave this way. Tired, he listens, tries appeasing her, he feels guilty and realizes he needs to make her feel special and loved.

He comes home after a date with his girlfriend. She's waiting looking unloved and unhappy. She enlightens him about how she was waiting for him, how he never spends time with her,how his girlfriend is more important and how lonely she feels all day.

Imagine this cycle of interaction being replayed almost everyday in someone's life. How this pattern of interaction is unhealthy for both parties. I realize the problem is more complex than it seems. It originates in the way women have been treated from many years ago. How their existence has been reduced by men to that of cleaning,cooking,child bearing and raising,and essentially serving the man. But, what is sad is that women failed to mentally realize they are worth and capable of more than such primitive acts. Again, you can say that their self esteem was never allowed to grow, they were never given any arena to apply their minds and so the only experts they became were on mundane and mindless activities such as cooking, cleaning and procreating. There is a fundamental insecurity in women who have been subjected to such lifestyles or those who have gladly chosen them. To keep their self esteem alive and to feel needed, these women have chosen to become monuments of self pity and self glory.

What I fail to realize is how can you expect your husband, child and society to respect your existence and life if you take no pride in it. How can you be proud of something that you only use as a tool of self pity. If you chose to be home or you had to be home for whatever reason, it's history. Why are you so insecure about your position that you feel the only way to secure it is through emotional drama and a list of sacrifices. What sort of love and respect can be earned using such crass and pathetic methods. Ironically though, these techniques work out great for these women. They are always on the demanding front, always the "damsel in distress", the "poor me", "the selfless one whose always waited", and whatever innovative sacrifices they want to add to the list. Repeat a lie enough times and it becomes the truth. Similarly, repeat a story enough times and it becomes reality.

The sad thing is these women in a way have to use these riduculous techniques because their lives have nothing else going in it. Ensuring their husbands and children forever remain glued to them in thought and best in physical reality, they have to subject them to these stories of sacrifices,misery and moral of the story is always;self glorification. The result is exactly what they want to create; a constant pressure, a perpetual guilt, and conviction that she really is a "poor me". Sitting at home and doing nothing much substantial, I have to say these women are shrewd enough to learn what is vital to their existence.

I must say these women have taken full revenge for whatever they were put through. These poor husbands and naive sons fall prey to these well crafted subconscious games. No mattar what they do for her, they're always going to feel it's not enough, they should be doing more.
So, all in all, I think these women have a great deal. Sitting at home, waking up when they want, blending a few spices together, and each day growing to be a bigger monument of self pity in their own eyes.

Sadly, these women don't realize that there is more to them than their husbands, and children. Her existence doesn't and shouldn't be justified by her role in their lives. She can and should dare to let go, let go of the the constant nagging, cribbing,story telling and self pitying. Don't haunt your husband and children with every sacrifice you did for them. It was your choice. Yes, you had a choice and it's important to respect your choice by not demanding constant attention, assurance and importance. If you truely deserve it, you'll get it and you might not, and that's just fine too. It doesn't require another saga of pain and hurt to be added to your life story. Find and develop your worth within you.

I wish more women would work or atleast do something more productive than cooking ,cleaning and sleeping.
I wish more men could come home and not be subject to emotional games and dramas.
I wish you weren't ALWAYS home.....

Broken, Mended, Strengthened

It started with innocent asking, " Please, please, make it happen if you deem it right"
As time and life happened, it became " You know how much I want this, please make it happen"

It slowly became more manipulative, " I've never wanted anything the way I want this, I don't ask you for much but this I really want".
He always smiled, a very diplomatic one now that I retrospect. But, I in my zelous optimism saw the smile as confirmation, as if the stage was all set.
By now, it had become an obsession. " Right or wrong, grant me this"
He was quiet. I thought I was going to use my charm to get my way.

" I demand this, I want it, I want it, I want it and I want it NOW"
I thought I had never used such fervor, such a tone, I thought I would intimidate Him into listening. He led me on, I thought I had won the battle.

" How hard is it for you, I with all my soul and heart beg you"
I was trying every technique I knew from blackmail to damsel in distress. Something had to work.
The day came, it was another morning in February. How much I had asked for this to be a blessed month.
It didn't happen. He didn't do it. My wish was not granted and like a true girl with pride, I acted like it was just fine, I was fine, nothing has changed. No, I didn't want sympathy, nothing. I said I was fine. And something murmured within me, "I'll be fine".

There was numbness, then acceptance and then; pain. He hurt me like never before. He let me down. I felt shattered, my sanity, my equilibrium was in pieces all over the place. I didn't want to pick up the broken pieces. My hands have bled enough always trying to make sense of broken things thrown my way. He was there all along, I refused to speak to Him. I was still polite and cordial, said my thank you's and all the things religion teaches but we were more than religion. Our bond was not about books, scriptures, and prophets. It was about us, Him and I. I didn't want to ask for anything else, I was going to be fine without Him.

My life was meaningless. I was a body with no soul. I felt an excruciating sense of coldness and loneliness. I had no one. There was a void in everything, in everyday. The extent to which He controlled me, the amount I needed Him, how much I yearned for his company. I had to go back, not for Him, but for me. I prided myself on being His favorite. And what did he do?
I started walking back thinking of how it'll be; awkward, strange.

He smiled like He always does as if my arrival was no surprise. The arrogance, the confidence; I hated it and yet I loved it.
All He said, " I didn't give you one thing that you asked for, but I gave you countless things in this very month that you didn't ask because you needed them more. I gave you zen, I gave you a home that you had yearned for, I gave you a job with the salary you had secretly always wanted, I showed you more options, I showed you love in the form of a soul mate"

He was right. My life was right. We were never the same again.

New York,Snow,and Surprises....

Something so beautiful and graceful about how snowflakes descend onto the ground. With serene silence, and determined composure, they fall in abundance all around. Unlike rain, they don't come in my way. They let life go on. Snowflakes touch me gently even in the wildest storm,not letting the distance they've travelled show in their temper;still loving, still calm. I admire the snow for that. It doesn't let its experience,past, and history alter its fundamental whiteness, its inherent gentleness. I wish I was snow.

New York;if only it knew the battles I've fought to be here, the city where dreams are unlimited, the city that is my escape from expectations,limitations,clannish boundaries and ridiculous confinements. In this city, I celebrate my boundless freedom,my escape from everything that is known, and I celebrate the persistence that has brought me here. No dream is too big or too tall here. I can be whoever and whatever. What an intoxicating empowering thought!

Like the snow that lies everywhere along the path, uncertainty lies tucked into every corner of this life but it doesn't bother me. The Divine plan got me this far, He'll take me beyond. I sit comfortably waiting for His plans to unravel. I can plan as much as I want but His planning is always far better than mine. I've let Him dictate things now. I can trust Him to do what is best for me. Like the trail of miracles He's made happen in my life, I wait anxiously for one more. The one that has become the obsession of my life, the one that I'm tired of waiting for and have now started stubbornly demanding from Him, the one miracle that gives me goose bumps, the miracle whose mere thought makes me euphoric. Just this one, I yearn for it. And ironically, this miracle has nothing to do with me directly.

He lies somewhere in the depths of me. I greet him with disbelief and indifference. He symbolizes so much to me;the essence of me, the love of my life, the relationship that means the most to me,the other relationships in my life. I lack emotion for him, I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. I don't know why I'm asked to feel, I don't know why feeling is so important. Does it makes us human? I'm just fine. I'm too stoic to even explain myself. I calmly listen to the incorrect and one sided analysis of myself, the strong adjectives; I retreat further into myself. I can't reason, explain,or rationalize. But, yes, I do know in the depths of me that I've become a dangerous mutation. I choose to not analyse and comprehend the causes, the reasons. I've given up, I don't make sense to anyone but myself.

As you innocently lie tucked away deep within warm layers, doing the only thing you know how to at this stage;growing,surviving;I wonder what to do with you. With scarce emotion, but incisive practicality, I'm left to decide your fate.And since we may never meet, or know what each other look like, I want you to know I'll do whatever seems right for you and us. The "us" doesn't include you. It took 7 years for the "us" to happen, you're an impulsive result of that
"us". I'm not ready to include you in the "us". We don't have much to offer you. I want you when we're ready. I'm tired of never getting anything right. Tell me, is that the type of frame of mind you want me in?. I think I'll let you go. Letting go is one of the things I dread most and yet I've learned to with impeccable grace and composure. Thank you for being in me, I'm not as cold as it sounds.

I continue dreaming about all that I want to do with myself, my life,my husband. Shrugging off the emotions that fell upon me like snowflakes, I walk down tall buildings and flashing lights. Waiting for miracles, cherishing the miracles that have happened, holding onto the arm of the man I love and inciting the fire within me to take me higher and higher;I'm in heaven.

I wish I was snow....

Three Hours Before 2008

Three hours away from the beginning of a new year.I don't want to toss away this year just as easily as I tossed away the 2007 calender into the trash at work.

Began this year with a surgery.A reminder of my phyical vulnerability.The recurring and nagging pain throughout the year somewhere raised my threshold and tolerance for pain. It taught me to live with it. Such that when I was asked if I was hurting, I honestly replied, " I don't know if the pain has reduced or if I'be become numb to it". Such I believe is the reality of life. I'm not sure how much our lives really change. I'm more confident that we become numb to whatever life has in it.

I look at this year and realize three major events took place in my life. I graduated, I got my first job and I got engaged. A sense of pride for knowing you have a degree bearing your name on it, a sense of independence for knowing you get a cheque for your hard work with your name on it, and a sense of joy for knowing you wear a dazzling diamond which has his name glittering on it.

It's New Year's eve,as the world gets ready to dance and drink away the last few hours to the new year, I sit wrapped in my blanket in thought and reflection.I reflect upon myself, the self that is not so "my" anymore. At least, I don't treat it as mine.It seems so estranged. Almost as if it eloped and began a new life against the will and norms of society. And just as a mother meets with her eloped daughter, there is an unspoken distance, an overbearing gravity, countless burning questions and yet a unique knowledge that she understands, understands what had caused her daughter to do the bold act.There is also that strange aura of pride at the boldness her daughter has exhibited.

I am not devoid of emotion. I am only too fearful of the power they wield on my porous heart. I don't know how to be gracious in my dealing with them, I don't know how to experience emotions without letting them cause havoc within me and to me;without raping me of my sacred composure and serenity. So, I learnt another art. The art of not letting myself feel any emotion. Why else does my inner self shudder by the thought of loved ones going away, why else does the thought of loneliness scare me. Thoughts of the future stir emotion in me but when that future becomes present,there is not an iota of feeling.

Ever seen a bird build a nest.From miles away, she carries the burden of a single twig.Just when she's about to place her twig down to lay the foundation of her home, the twig falls, or it's blown away. Not for a moment does she stop, or lose hope; she flies again to search for another twig,another leaf, another hope.She's not attached to the twigs, or the leaves. Therefore, their loss doesn't affect her. She is only attached to the goal;the nest. With each twig that is blown away, with each leaf that is lost in the long flight;I learn the power and importance of detachment. Detachment to the obstacles, detachment to the struggle, detachment to the wind that blows away her efforts.

Like a flower waiting to bloom, 2008 holds a lot of promises, a lot of dreams and new beginnings in store for me. With eagerness and detachment, I wait to see this year unravel.

Two hours till this year becomes history. I treat myself to a movie and time with myself, a few treasured moments with the self that eloped.
Happy New Year to Me.....