That One Opportunity!

I was walking towards the exit when I saw him. For a moment, I stopped. Everything around me came to halt. Sky- blue colored straight jeans with button-down black shirt made him look more handsome than usual. I was stunned. Not just by his unusual appearance but also by his presence. He was walking through the corridor gazing thoughtfully at some documents. Heard somebody clapping, and I got my conscious back. I turned myself and pretended to complete some unfinished business.

 “Excuse me?”  My face was hidden under my tousled hair. I couldn’t see him but I knew it was him. I could never forget his dead- husky voice; it keeps vibrating my cochlea touching my heart every time. I closed my eyes tight and swallowed some air.

I turned my face around him so that I could face him.  “Yes?” My eyes were as wide and as hard as they could be. I looked directly in his small black colored eyes for a second. It still had this quaint pain that always had attracted me towards him. I looked away.  One more second will make me fall for him all over again. I looked away and tremulously smiled at some random guy whom I didn’t even know.

He frowned. His wide eyes looked at me, and he smiled as if he was happy to see me. “I… Ella? What are you…? How are you?” His happy-smiley face compelled me to be antithetical to my character; there is something with him that makes me go all anti-me. And after all these years, I’m still finding why?  “You wanted to ask something?” I raised my left eyebrow, “What is it?”

He gave me a look of “What is wrong with you?” But he was to cool to ask me that. “Yeah, I was looking for administration office. I couldn’t find it. Do you know where it is?” He asked.  While ignoring having an eye-contact with him, I explained him the directions. He didn’t move. He was still standing there, right in front of me. I shook my shoulder and my eyes asked him why was he still standing?

He answered my unasked question by an unanswerable question, “Would you walk me there?” Seriously, what the hell did he think I’m going to answer? “Oh of course, I was dying for this opportunity,” or “Sure, why not. I would love to.” I gave him this death-stare, took a deep breath and started to walk towards the administration office.

“Here,” I said while gesturing with my right hand.  And then he asked the question whose answer could change my life. I had this one moment in my life where either I could repeat my mistake or alter it.

 “Can we meet at coffee later today?

But I wanted this moment to come a decade ago, why now?  What the hell does he want from me now? Can’t he leave me alone?  I wish I would have left the building when I first saw him.

I took a deep breath, looked into his eyes. I wanted him to see every single pain he had given me. I wanted to show him that I fell apart when he made me a divorcee. And I’m still like that and nobody can make me the same again. I smiled staring in his eyes said NO and left. I never turned back. I never answered his Why because I couldn’t just let him know that I still love him and always will do.
But now I live my life with the belief that he wanted to apologize to me that day.I chose not to repeat my mistake. I chose to be happy. I chose to live.

Pakistan Today: Another Violent Incident!!!

                                            

This is what Pakistanis have become. They are so freaking immune to the daily bomb blasts and gun shots that nobody seems to care about them anymore. Only few of them are going to grief over these terribly tragic events via Facebook and Twitter and the rest of them, we will see uploading pictures, statuses or tweeting about how much they are enjoying the watermelons in summer season. Or how much they love Facebook. Or showing their gratitude to people who wished them on their birthdays. Or how they hate the cinemas for not showing Ironman3 until 17^th May.  Or talking about how hot is the guy who was deported from Saudi Arab this Thursday. What they don’t understand is that they might not live for a year more to be thankful to people who will wish them on their birthdays. Or that they won’t live for another 20 days to watch Ironman3 in the cinema. Or they can get brutally shot before having a bite of their succulent fruits. People are so busy with their happiness that they seem to forget that sorrows can knock on their door and in the blink of their eye could snatch their happiness from them forever.

I woke up to today to hear that another Sharukh Jatoi brutally shot another Shahzaib Khan just because latter was trying to stop him from harassing his girl-friend. Hamza Ahmed was shot to dead by the guard of his schoolmate just because of a fight over his girl-friend. 4 months ago a brother, Shahzaib Khan, was shot dead because he raised his voice against the harassment of his sister. Yesterday it was sister, today it was a friend and tomorrow it could be a mother. Is this is what is going to happen?  Are we all going to be murdered because of raising voice against something evil? Or wait a second, we won’t be murdered. And guess why? Because we are not going to stand against them, we are going to sit and watch the play until it hit one of us. We are going to watch it as a play on television until we hear somebody we know died because of trying to bring a change.

We should stop enjoying these shows and should stand up against this.  Just a status or a tweet doesn’t work. We should stand up and protest against it. But not like we did for Shahzaib Khan. His case is still isn’t solved. It is still in the court. The eyewitness are withdrawing from their statements against Sharukh Jatoi. And obviously someone is there forcing them to withdraw. He still hasn’t received justice. His family or Hamza’s family or anyone’s family who has gone through any kind of injustice wouldn’t be able to live again until their loved ones don’t get justice.

We shouldn’t wait for the Chief Justice to take any action. We can’t rely on him anymore. It is the time we should step out of our house and do something. We are the youth, the people. We are Pakistanis and no one else would give justice to us other than us. Let’s get united for the sake of Pakistan. Let’s get united for Justice. Let’s get united for Hamza Ahmed. Let’s get united for US.

Sea Waves

I was standing there all by myself ogling the sea: afraid of the water. I was afraid of drowning - of death. I was standing far behind the reach of waves so that they don’t drag me towards it suffocating me to death. Despite of the trepidation, I was enjoying the view. I loved the blue-ness everywhere. The azure sky and the soothing aqua color of the water made the scenery scenic. The place itself was peaceful. And the fresh comforting smell of the wet sand made the whole place even more relaxing.

 I loved what was at the other end of the sea. Everybody loved it. At least most of us loved it. It was something to be loved. It was Love. Though I haven’t been there, I have seen people having a ball there. I wanted to ball too. But the thought of crossing the sea has always been an obstacle. And that I couldn’t do myself. So I decided to hate that end. I decided to distance myself from it. The more I distanced myself from it, the more my heart went close to it. I stood there for very long watching people- people who never came back from that place.

And then one day, somebody held my hand and took me into it. I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t hesitate a bit; I just went with the flow. My heart walked over my body and I couldn’t do anything.

And there I was running towards my biggest fear. But I was no longer afraid. I was just running and running. All of a sudden I felt some dirty-wet thing clinging to my feet. I had to make an effort to take a step. It was like as if the dirt was pulling me towards it. I looked down, and all I could see was traces of my feet. I barely looked at my footprints that I jumped out of frigidness. I hopped. And I hopped again. I couldn’t stand still. I couldn’t feel my feet; they went numb. But it was so refreshing. It was like the cold chilly water touched my soul: as if it pulled out all the dirt from my body, from my mind, and left me clean. All the stress, tensions got washed away with the waves. I felt pure.

I was so lost that I totally forgot him. I totally forgot that there was someone who brought me here. I forgot that somebody was still holding my hand. But it wasn’t my fault that hand was made for mine. It felt normal. It felt good. I didn’t notice until he pulled me into the sea. His presence made it easy. I was no longer afraid of drowning. It was like as if his grip took away my fear making me strong. Yes, it was his grip; it was him.

And then I saw the large waves coming towards us. They were strong, I could sense. And they were huge.  I was afraid but not of death but of separation. I didn’t want us to be separate. I wanted us to hold each other forever. And then in a spur of the moment, I was fighting with the water: with the waves. I could feel my limps trying hard to get on the surface, but they failed. I was splashing my hands against the water but it was of no use. I lost hope. I closed my eyes and let my body rest. I was dying.

I coughed. I let the water out. I coughed again took a deep breath. I opened my eyes slowly and he was there again, holding my hand with a beam. He then explained how to encounter these waves. He helped me to live. He taught me to live.

In all this, I didn’t realize that we crossed the midway. We were less than half way off from the other end - from love. I was happy and excited. I faced my biggest fear. I was almost there. I had left my fear behind, I thought.  But all of a sudden, he was gone. My hands were empty. I no more felt complete. I looked around but couldn’t find him. I thought he will return. I believed he will come to rescue like before. But he didn’t. I couldn’t move further. I didn’t know how to. He taught me how to save myself but he forgot to teach me how to move further, I guess.

I’m still here, in the middle of nowhere trying to grab everybody’s hand that passes by me. But the hand doesn’t fit. It just leaves me there and moves forward. Every time I try to come up, something pulls me back. Or is it the waves who want me to stay there. Who wants me to wait. And yeah I’m still there waiting for somebody to hold my hand again and hold it forever till the end.

Love or Beauty?

Why does someone love someone? What is that something that attracts somebody to somebody. Is it love or beauty? These days people fall for these famous celebrities. Even if they look or smell bad, youth of this generation from all over the world are attracted towards them. Why? Why does appearance and beauty matters so much? Is it that beauty and love are same things but different names?

“The first time I saw her, I knew I was in love with her; madly in love.”

 I’ve been hearing such remarks quite often these days. I see how these guys and girls fall head over heels for each other, and I wonder how does it work? Love at first sight? Does such a thing really exist? How could you know you are in love and ready to spend the rest of your life with a person you just met? What when her beauty fades away and she becomes old? Would he still love her? Would he still like to spend the rest of his life with her? You say you are in love with the beautiful girl you met a couple of days ago, what would you do if she turned out to be a bad evil natured woman? Beauty has the capability to camouflage the flaws to some extent, so later when she gains fat over her muscles and her smooth skin gets wrinkled, would your feelings remain the same? No? So all along you weren’t in love. It was the appearance that caught you. Appearance gone, love gone.

Judging a book by its cover has become a common practice for us. We judge a person by how she looks and not how she thinks. Love of this generation depends on the outer beauty not the inner beauty; heart. This is one of the major reasons why everybody is busy in enhancing her appearance and does very less to purify her inner soul which is actually the element for love.

I do not believe in love at first sight which of course is pretty common and romanticized to great extent. The way physicality is confused with romance, similarly most of the people, confuse physical attraction with love. Love is a strong word. All other emotions originate from the notion love. It’s basically lust that attracts you to a person.

I’m not denying the fact that appearance doesn’t have an impact on our perception for the person because it does, but to a minor magnitude. It’s natural to give preference to a finer looking thing over the ordinary. But if a person who is below average in his looks have the grace of a gentleman and is decent and respectful in conversation while another person who is handsome beyond words is an arrogant hard man, who would be more liked?

On the other hand, if somebody is attracted towards someone by love he will always love her regardless of her beauty. No matter how old she becomes, he is still going to be with her. I am not saying that personality doesn’t changes. It does. Like every other thing personality does change but according to the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, study conducted at Berkeley, personality changes for better with age. And one wouldn’t mind if his love changes her personality for better; If she starts thinking in more sensible way, if she becomes strong enough to protect herself,  If now she has learnt to hold her head up high and not cares about what people say? Who would mind that? At least I won’t.

Age enhances personality and the beauty. But the beauty of an 80 old women would be her confidence, style and personality. And that comes from experience which comes with age. The point I’m trying to make here is that when one’s love becomes old he don’t look at the outer beauty but to the inner beauty. That is because he himself would become old and would develop the same changes. He would start looking things differently.

And even with time, the maturity level increases and so does our way of perceiving things. We don’t see things the way we used to see. In the similar fashion, at the age of 80 one wouldn’t see his love with the eyes of a young man, but instead with those of an old man. And if he loved her back in those days, then now he would love her even better; selflessly and tenderly. Because when age increases, maturity level also increases.

Love and beauty have things in common but I wouldn’t call them directly proportional. We love people because of their inner soul; heart. Everybody has heart which beats for their love but don’t ugly people have hearts? Don’t they have a right to love or to be loved? Why is it that people are attracted towards pretty faces and not ugly ones? What if you met with an accident and lost your pretty face. Wouldn’t you still want your love to love you? I think we all should give it a thought.

In the end I would just like to say that basically the attraction for beauty isn’t love but lust. The attraction by appearance is lust and attraction by personality is love. Love is the only emotion which keeps soul mates bonded even when beauty fades away. This is reason we don’t love people by their appearance but by their personality and heart. No matter how pretty face you see, if she doesn’t have a good personality then a sensibly mature person wouldn’t fall for her. 

Selfishness

“This is so sweet.” Sarah said, taking a sip of coffee.

Sidra was so entrenched in the turmoil that she thought she sweeten it. “Really?” She asked raising her brows.” I might have put extra sugar in it. Let me make another one for you.” She said in an apologizing manner.

“Extra sugar? Sarah shrugged, arching her eyebrows. “Oh no! I mean the gift you bought for your sister is sweet.”

“You mean you like it?” Sidra asked.

“No, I mean you bought the present for your sister without any occasion is sweet.”

 “Oh that. That appear to be sweet but isn’t.” Sidra said, keeping the hot cup of coffee down on the table. They were seated on the couch below the rusty wrought iron chandelier suspending from the three story high roof. It was a frigid winter night. She could see the chandelier moving back and forth due to the cold breeze. “But anyway thank you.”

“What is it then?” Sarah asked eagerly.

“I’m just trying to placate her for my bad behavior.”

“Not everybody does that. She is lucky to have a sweet and caring sister like you.”

 Sarah said trying to make her feel good. But she failed. She failed like every other time. Sidra was so mad at her life that she couldn’t keep herself from bursting out at her. “To break someone’s heart and then appease them by different means is that what you call being sweet? I call it being selfish.” She clamored.

Sara had never seen Sidra this furious. She tried to pacify her anger but added fumes to it; fumes that immensely ignited her anger forcing her to vent her heart out.

“It might not be sweet but at least it is not selfish. You realized your mistake and now you are trying to improve it. What’s so selfish about this? “

“That is what being selfish is all about.” She yelled.” I’m trying to placate her because I can’t live with the guilt that I hurt her and I’m the reason behind her sadness.” She closed her eyes, took a long deep breath trying to calm her infuriation and rested her forehead on her palm.  

Sidra couldn’t bear anyone woeful around her. The sole purpose of her life was to spread happiness at every step she takes. But watching herself sacrificing her own dream was wrenching.

“Doing something with a design of being rewarded is selfishness, and I don’t see any reward coming to you.” She said trying to make a point.

“Of course it is! Sidra said, raising her head. Can’t you see forgiveness would be on my way?”

“Why would you ever call it a reward?” Sarah gesticulated.

“Nothing is more rewarding than being in paradise on earth.” Sidra grinned. Her grin faded as soon as she looked at the wall photo hanging between the tapestries. The photo was of her and her sister clicked two years ago on the beach. The picture was so close to her heart that she hanged it in her room and often talked to it. But now she couldn’t even make an eye contact with it. Every time she sees it, she remembers how rudely she insulted her; how bad she made her sister feel.

“What are you talking about?”  Sarah interrupted her thoughts.

 “A person who is forgiven is in peace.” Sidra stopped for a moment and stared at the picture.” At least I feel I’m in a different peaceful world which I think heaven is all about.” She said, looking back at her.

Sarah thought for a moment but still couldn’t completely agree with it.” I don’t think that way. You cannot say everyone has a personal desire behind doing something good.”

“I too used to think that way. But believe me, as life moves on, our perspective of understanding things starts changing.  It depends on everyone’s intellect, caliber and experience. One might not think the way I think; the way you think.” Sidra said. Her voice was calm as if she could already feel the heaven.

“Did you just say that I am not intellectual?” Sarah said trying to change the topic. She could see that Sidra was now back; back from her turmoil.

“What? When did I say that?” Sidra replied with a smile on her face.

“Just kidding. Let’s have coffee. What do you say?” Sarah asked.

“I’ll be right back.” Sidra replied walking out of the room towards kitchen.

When Sidra came back with coffee, Sarah moved closer to Sidra, squeezed her hand gently and said, “Sometimes, we just have to accept things as they are. It is okay to make mistakes; the best thing is its realization. And not every person has such a strong conscience to accept and counter the damage they’ve done. Besides, relations don’t need formalities Sidra. Communicate with her. Seriously.” Sarah smiled vaguely, lost in thoughts. She was coming to make sense of everything Sidra said.

“And seriously,” Sarah added with a playful tone,” If I were too lucky to have a sister as you who’d accept her mistake, man I’d have taken such unfair advantages!” Sidra laughed cheerfully at the humor which now surrounded both of them. “Thank you”, Sidra said earnestly.” You’re right, we complicate things for ourselves.” She paused for a while and with a long wistful gaze at the picture, Sidra added pleasantly,” relations really don’t need formalities.”

“Absolutely”, Sidra said. “So shall we continue with our coffees now?”

Translation...

By the time I reached there, almost everybody had arrived. But I wasn’t anxious for them but for someone who wasn’t there as yet. My mind was captured by different thoughts; what if her father didn’t allow; what if something else might have happened, but all these abstracts thought vanished away when I heard the donkey cart approaching closer. It seemed the whole environment had come to a halt; the cold breeze had paused and suddenly the birds had forgotten to chant for the moment. Everything was silently shouting “It was her”. She along with her siblings was walking towards me. The spark in her younger sister’s eyes was telling that she had recognized me. She whispered something in her older sister’s ear and that is when she looked up at me. Whatever I felt after our first eye contact; pain, desire, crave and alienation - everything came to an end after this second brief eye contact.

In a moment, she went by leaving me with her warm presence. It seemed that everything came back to life; the birds started chanting and the breeze continued to refresh the surroundings. There are very few moments you want to live again and again. And this was one of them. But unfortunately, like every other thing this too had to stay with me forever, in my memories.

Life Changing Experience

Lately, I have been thinking about delivering speech at my sister’s wedding. I had always thought that this event would set the paradigm for upcoming generations. I wanted everyone to remember this august wedding not because this was the wedding of the world’s best sister but because it was my sister’s wedding. Because this time it was about my self-esteem. This was not about her big day, but it was about me. Any awry act would shake my dignity, and obviously I cannot stand that.

I had always taken my selfish acts as generous acts. Somewhere inside I use to pacify my heart by consoling it, and my soft -tender heart used to count on my absurd logics. My sixth-sense would warn me before being selfish, but then my false assurance would overcome it. I didn’t realize it until this summer; which changed my perception about everything.

I went to my distant-relative’s wedding. It was not as amusing as I thought except that the music was something which kept me entertained. The bride and groom were seated on the stage: situated right at the center of the ballroom. Right beside the stage was the rostrum.  The opening of the speech was done by reciting Quran-ic verses. Bride’s sister and brother acknowledged the guests for joining their happiness. Then came the blood relation that was suffering from the amiable condition; one that couldn’t fully enjoy their happiness because their daughter was going to leave them forever. The father came on micro-phone first. His speech was the life-changing experience.

He was in black suit with white shirt and black tie knotted on it. He looked old with his white beard but he was looking the bride’s father, handsome. Anyone could look into his eyes and tell how much he wanted to re-live all those lovely moments they had spent together. But he had to stop himself in fact he stopped himself but he couldn’t help his eyes telling everything he wanted to tell.

This was her daughter’s wedding, a big day for him. If I would had to give a speech on such an auspicious day I would not let the crowd know my weaknesses, but I would point out my strengths. Because this would have been about me, my dignity. But I salute this person who had that much courage to speak the truth in front of all his guests, who might not know what he is in reality. He confronted the public in Urdu, despite of the fact that all of the speakers used English. He used Urdu not because it was his mother tongue but because he didn’t know how to speak English properly. I guess he didn’t want to spoil his daughter’s day by speaking crumbled English. This is not a big deal I know, but accepting the fact that he never worked in United States of America because of his broken English was a big deal. Accepting that he can’t speak English was a big deal.  I cannot accept this in front of this big crowd. I could have never done that. I don’t have that much confidence. I never had and I never will. But still I pray to God to give me enough confidence to accept my weaknesses.