Forget everything why remember what was, was. Time waits not move on it must; only you stand stand alone, crying! I saw this in my notebook. When did I write this – do not remember. But seems someone was really hurting.  It was certainly not me. I know myself and how I feel when sad or hurting. I just curl and go somewhere deep inside me and stay there till I feel like emerging and joining the humankind. Yes, I know myself and know my way of dealing with other peoples stress, hurt, loss etc. As they say chot kisi ko lge dard mere dil meIn hota he. This is absolutely how it is with me. Not good , hanh? And if their grief is too deep, I hurt with them for days and later, have to make an effort  to get this feeling out of my system. I also start writing,  pouring out on the paper. I become that person, as if  all that happened to me.  Believe me this is cathartic – very! The writing – I mean. But with happiness, I am honest. I celebrate being happy and love watching happy people, celebrate with them, celebrate my happiness with them! Feeling happy is easy, not as complicated as being sad or unhappy. This helps me with my creative work … gives the feel of reality to my writing. I had a nightmere last night. When little, if we woke up screaming in the middle of the night, our mama would be very concerned. In the morning she would draw every detail of our dream out of us.  She would be very quiet and sitting still, listening to our dream. And when we finished relating it, she would still be quiet for sometime, thinking probably. Once she had thought over each detail, then she would get up saying that dream was good. but it was the way she would say that.  Seriously or lightly. If seriously then for the next so many days she would be seen watching over us like a sentry and the alms giving would be on frequent basis.  Otherwise, it was all well and we would be allowed to go to friends house or let them come over. So I had a nightmere last night. I don’t know what other couples do if one of them has a nightmere. Mine is very practical. Also, my poor dear gets up for namaz i shab and needs a comfortable, non interrupted sleep. I totally understand that so I myself baby myself in such situations. The question is why do I have these horror dreams in the first place? If it was too terrifying, I would share it with him in the morning,  if it was not that bad, I would forget by morning, so there is nothing to talk to or about.  But this one was a biggie.  It kept me awake for a long time and had an erratic sleep after that. The feeling of horror was still lurking somewhere in the psyche. Finally it was morning.  I slowly raised my head from under my blanket. The blinds were open and the room was flooded with bright sunlight – like spun gold. Some one was rowing a small red dingy in the lake. Probably a gift from parents or dotting grandparents. The sight filled my heart with equally bright and happy feeling of well being.  “What a beautiful day!” Louis Armstrong  number on my lips, I threw back the blanket  and got up. But the nightmere ? what nightmere? At least share ,  who was it about? No need to go into that either. I am sure my friend across the Atlantic is going about life as usual !

Excerpts from  …

He woke up with a start and sat bolt upright.

He was fast asleep, a deep sleep, tired and sleepless sleep; and suddenly someone pulled him out of his semi unconscious state – softly touched him on the shoulder. “wake up” a whisper came close to his lips, and suddenly he was awake. He looked all around him but there was nothing unusual – everything was just as it was the night before or even before that. He tried to listen if there was some intruder in the house. Nothing. Even the room felt as it always felt … belonging mostly to his wife.

In the dim light coming from the night lamp, he saw the curtains moving. But it was because the fans were on. Then he realized that he was thinking about her. Denying all the time, pushing the thought, the image away from his thoughts. This irritated him. ‘ why, am I going crazy ? senile? He rubbed his eyes. ‘This is definitely not me. I need to get my head examined’
He again shook his head but it was hard to shake off those hauntingly beautiful black eyes, flecked with something like burnished gold. And those curled up thick eyelashes! He had never before seen such eyes. Looking at her he had always wondered about her younger days and how she looked then.

“What is it honey?” Carol woke up and turning towards him put her hand on his arm.
” Nothing. Go back to sleep”
” Then why are you sitting up? come, lie down please.”
“Go to sleep, carol” his voice was a notch higher than usual this time.
Carol withdrew her hand and again turned to her side, taking an exaggerated, loud breath.

She was fast asleep within minutes, leaving him sitting up in the dark.

He had to make a decision, and soon. She didn’t have much time left but before that happened, he was going to pitch in whatever was there in his capacity. She was a challenge to his profession.

The wheels were already in motion.

April, 2013.
afternoon.

I am incensed. Wasted so much time on useless talk. But my fault only.  “someone only bothers you as much as you allow to be bothered. ” my son once said that. This is a very sound advice but we sometimes don’t pay attention.  It is all in our hands to empower some one to keep probing into your info. Hate myself for being a victim of someone’s designs/ motives.

Actually this never could have happened if I hadn’t gone outside just to feel the feel of the wind blowing in the trees.  I was having my morning cup of tea when across the family room, through the front door, I saw  a soft wind playing with the plants and shrubs, growing near the main door.  Looked so beautiful that with my cup in hand I went out and stayed there for a long time savoring the feel of spring in the air.  A long ago memory visiting, I smiled and decided to go inside, rinse the cups and stacking them in the dishwasher, go and have an hour in the company of my albums. Turkey was on my mind because standing outside, the memory of Ahmad Mohammad and his family had visited. May be in some unknown corner of UK they thought about us at the same time – who knows!. Both our families went on vacation together to Turkey, Murad, a Turkish gentleman was with us too and it was on his insistence we had included Istanbul in our plans. Otherwise, we were going directly to Surrey, UK, where my mum and brother were.

After spending about ten days in Istanbul, Murad stayed with his parents in Istanbul, the Iraqi friends went to London and our family to Greece. and from there to Italy and then to Lake District, then Surrey.  We had talked about meeting again somewhere in London, but never did.  Any ways, I’ll come back to it later.

My mistake was that after finishing with dishwasher, I came to my room and put on my computer to look at and say my salam, my routine. Being oceans apart does not mean anything when you know you are connected somehow! This is my way of thinking 🙂

Some one else was waiting and took this opportunity to come forward and introduce. Robbed me of my moment. My mood is ruined now, I am just hitting the keys.  Once this handyman working on our internet speed is finished, I’ll go get the album, if possible, put some pics for you. and continue with my thoughts. Have to see if what I felt sipping my tea, standing outside, feeling the spring on my skin – is still there.

April, 20, 2013

Spent the morning looking for the photos. It was hard to find what I was looking for in that collection of photographs shot during all those years. And once you start looking through the albums, slowly and gradually one by one every one starts coming and joining the group. This is exactly what happened and an hour’s work became timeless journey. It was fun. One more thing – I noticed that pictures need to be transferred – either to the computer or some new acid free albums. We do not have any negatives left. They were damaged while getting transported here along with my precious crystal collected over the years. Transferring was all done by professional packers. Oh well.

Right now I am adding some pictures. Writing part I am leaving to some other time. Some times a broken chain of thought is hard to mend. Also Topkapi Museum pics are  missing. So now I shall only share a few photos and whenever the mood strikes, I would write some more about our Turkish vacation.  Murad left the UAE befor us. Ahmad Mohammad left a year later. The last we heard they were living in London. They wanted to go back to Iraq but Shia Muslims had no future under Saddam Hussain’s rule.

Children from both the families goofing around The Guard in front of  Topkapi 

Ali Imran standing in front of  Hagiya Sophia

Do not remember the name but it was on the Bosphorus .

Dolmabahce Palace.

I feel so sorry that  my dear friend Mustafa Karim is ill … has been for a long time.  He answers my emails but they are always very short messages. During the day today I was reading our old correspondence  and thinking about all those times  and the ease with which we used to discuss and share our thoughts with each other. When my mother passed away he was there for me holding a hankie, offering his shoulder to cry on and for that it wasn’t  necessary for him to come all the way to Florida.  He did all that living in UK.  He talked to me about his brother who was living  in India. It was really difficult for him but he did open up.   Always made sure that I get a copy of his books. When my afsana   <  phool, chaand taare aur drakht >  was published in Funoon received rave reviews, he wrote two articles about it.   Talked about < javaab > ,  < pehchaan>and   < gunnah> also.  I had picked the idea for pehchaan  while lunching in a Lebanese restaurant – Beirut – on – Edgware road?  I am talking about 1984 so there could be some memory mix up.  My brother’s friend Rabia was visiting from Saudi Arabia and we two were sent to Paddington  to pick her up and bring her there ) It was a small Lebanese restaurant. there was a family – father and son sitting close by. father was talking mainly in Punjabi and the son was struggling with three languages. English which obviously he was comfortable with, and Urdu and Punjabi for his father So a mixture of three language was a unique experience for me I absorbed it like a sponge and sat down the same night to write it.

Sorry I got carried away.

I was talking about Mustafa Krim. He is a true friend and I feel so sorry that he is not well. I hope and pray he gets well and we continue reading and writing and sharing with each other. Good friends are God’s precious gift to his people

Here is the one that set the direction of our knowing each other. I think you would enjoy this.

“…..when we share our life’s ups and downs with someone, we are actually honoring that person …that is how I felt while reading your previous email. In so many years that we have been in contact this was the first time you shared a little of your life.

I hope you have regained your strength. Both the times your body fought back and won and that is a good news. Problem of dampness in the garages is a tough one though. Handymen love such problems. I’ll certainly read the reviews on your book. Actually I had asked my brother in Pakistan to get that book for me. I had given him the address too where he’d find them but then misfortune struck and his wife had a stroke. I didn’t ask him about the book after that.

Have you read Rohinton Mistry’s novel ‘A Fine Balance’ ? A good read, no doubt about it. Now  I am reading Angela’s Ashes these days. Reading this book is an experience in itself…. I cry, I laugh …most of the time, at the same time. My other half thinks I am losing my mind.

Good luck with Ulysses. My countless efforts failed leaving me no choice but to put the book back on the shelf and never try reading it again ……”

heartache …

Walking in my back porch last night
nursing a sleepless body,
cajoling a hunched soul
I suddenly realized
my blood has gone cold.

The love, the passion, the desire to be …
are worthless thoughts!
Silence prevails
when tempests end
ecstasy takes a wing.

I cannot hold, his roving heart
once mine now gone to the next call
his touch on my hands, my face – an anticipation – lingers.
I let him go for he was never mine.
He needs to learn to navigate, to keep afloat a steady helm.

The night owl
hooting across the lake
was looking for a prey !
the cheap baits, hooked on a line
in search of prize catch
were sunk.

In  every day vagaries of life, I still think about her.

A friend I knew committed suicide. I know it has been years now but to put her memory to rest, I know I have to write about her.

Sometimes in the beginning of that year someone failed her trust. We all face all kinds of failures – big or small – in our life, but for her it was so despairingly grotesque and so helplessly unbearable that she just turned her back to life.

She was nice and gentle and had a lovable personality. What I liked most about her was that she had a very soft voice. Talking to her was always a pleasure. She always made you feel like wrapped in her warmth and glowing! Our knowing each other period was short but it was an instant bonding. For a person like me who always takes slow and hesitant steps towards new friendships – unless there is some chemistry involved – this bonding was unbelievable.

Around Christmas time, that year she told me she had gift wrapped almost a hundred gifts – big and small. Ironically, out of those hundred people not a single being could save her from that lonely death.

On a misty Florida morning she calmly told me her husband had left her for another woman.  I was speechless for a moment. Didn’t know what to say.

Then I hugged her and she started crying. That became even harder for me, but then I got some courage and told her that I was sorry to learn that. It must hurt a lot but think it this way  that if he did this to you now, there is no guarantee that tomorrow he would not leave that woman for another woman?  Problem lies with him, not you so be sorry for him, not yourself.  If you think this is  the end of the world I would say –  it is not.

Then I told her that if and when she needed me, she knew where to find me.  After all she had shared her pain with me , I had a responsibility now to see if she needed something, some encouragement, some moral support. Then I asked her if she had any children. She said she married late and at forty two there was no hope she would ever have any. Then she assured me that after she had sorted things out , she would go back to her parents in Alaska.  Parents! ah, the greatest gift of God to mankind!

I met her again after a couple of days. She looked calm and serene in her white dress. Her hair was bleached. I told her she was looking lovely with her new hair do. She smiled and said she  was a lot in the sun and her hair got bleached, better thank Florida Sunshine !  We both laughed. I was relieved to see her laughing.  Then she hugged me and told me that she was going.  I didn’t ask where was she going because in our last conversation she had mentioned going to her parents.  She said she was in a hurry because she had to see some people and saying goodbye, she left.

Next day I called her. I wanted to invite her to dinner before she left but no one picked up the phone. I called again after an hour , no answering.  I thought she probably had left for her parents place.

A few days later someone at work said ‘did you know that Avon lady? I said yes. What about her? She looked  at me with sad eyes and sighed – poor soul must have been so heart broken after what her husband did to her! She killed herself.

That was a Hiroshima to me. I could not believe my ears. Just one thought flashed in my mind.  When she was telling me about her husband, I was thinking to offer her to move in our house .. at least for as long as she needed to sort things out. But during that depressing talk and her crying, I didn’t. Maybe if she had moved in with any of her friends, this might not have happened.

A long time ago in my Psychology class  we were talking why some people seek the answer in killing instead of reasoning. Ms. Buksh, our  Philosophy and Psychology professor, concluded her lecture  saying that people kill themselves when they are in a state of sheer desperation. Usually their failures are not their faults alone. It is the people around them who knowingly or unknowingly push them over the edge. And in such cases, humanity, in all its fairness grieves over its failures. Ms Buksh was right!

She was a nice person who touched my heart briefly and made me wonder about so many aspects of life.  we  were new to this country at that time with children  at a very young age, trying to put some solid ground under our feet. It was specially difficult for me because a spoiled rotten person like me was suddenly inundated with all kinds of responsibilities. But at that moment when she was standing there against the Sun, trying to hold back her tears and telling that she didn’t know where to go, what to do. How to think straight – everything that was bothering me ever since I came here, made sense.  I wanted her pain to go away, all the same.  What would she do all by herself was a potent question, pointing to wards so many directions.

Sometimes when I get sleepless nights, my mind wanders. I think about all those people who at one point or the other touched my life. My relatives,friends,acquaintances, people in the street, a lone figure standing at the corner of a street, a homeless, carrying his home in a bag over his shoulder, braving the Florida heat and humidity, while air conditioned cars speed by. I try to grapple with thoughts of why things happen the way they happen. Most nights I think about her too because I see her standing there, at the end of a long line, waiting for her turn to to go somewhere ; and I always telling her that she didn’t do the right thing. She chose the easy way out. There is always pleasure in a struggle in the end.

I hope she is at peace, where ever she is.

March, 19, 2013

2:37 PM