Black.

I remember reaching out to every possible medical personnel in my radius and promising them that if you’d survived on your birthday, I’ll get them all ice-cream. I can vividly recall their fabricated expressions as they said you’re a fighter. No doubt you were; but I guess the opponent was a little too stronger than you were. I do reminisce celebrating your birthday in AKU’s C.C.U. with almost an unconscious birthday queen all wrapped up in white and wires; with no clue of what was happening around her, with her hair shed off her scalp due to the very harsh chemos, yet with the motherly essence intact as she thankfully smiled and responded to me; knowing that if I wouldn’t elicit a response, I’ll die a little inside.

I remember giving my boards and getting dropped off at some relative’s place just so they could drive me to the hospital and I could meet you. Making a very thin creamy custard for you everyday and garnishing it with strawberry sauce in my own ridiculous ways was my greatest joy back then. I was talking to R last night, she almost broke down as she told me what you had said about me cooking for you- ‘Usay kyun tang kartay ho? Usne tou aj tak chool’ha bhi nahi jalaya..’ … I can never figure out what mothers are made of.

There’s so much words can’t say.

Every now and then, as I am sitting on my prayer mat, I visualize you praying ahead of me on your table and chair. I slept on your bed last night. I saw your happy pictures. And then your panic-stricken face struck my mind. I wanted you to live. I wanted you to give that disease a disgraceful defeat. I wanted you to rise again so we could give hope to other distressed cancer patients. But God has His own ways that I can’t question.

So I casually lie to the patients I greet at the onco ward, saying ‘Meri ammi ko bhi yehe tha, wo bhi theek hogayeen then…’ ‘coz I now know how important hope is. I hated the doctors who used to term you as a ‘dead-end case’ and why wouldn’t I? How couldn’t you?

Probably this world was a filthy soiled place for a person like you.
Probably this is how it was meant to be.

I’ll just assume you’re in a better place right now. I hope, I pray.
But you’re never forgotten. I love you more than I miss you.

 

 

 

Once upon a wise guy..

“Life is no straight and easy corridor along
which we travel free and umhampered,
but a maze of passages,
through which we must seek our way,
lost and confused, now and again
checked in a blind alley.

But always, if we have faith,
a door will open for us,
not perhaps one that we ourselves
would ever have thought of,
but one that will ultimately
prove good for us.”

A.J. Cronin

Pagalpan k doray.

Life has been much of a mess lately. Call it an amusing mess maybe. Perhaps its just the teenage fever that has shaken hands with my endocrine system which lets it circulate throughout this buddhi body. I don’t really know. I hate the fact that I get into this very girlie depressing phase for no good cause but I love it how I find this blog the perfect place to puke it all out. Its just like when you throw up and your amma says ‘Acha hua sari gandgi nikal gyi, ab sahi hojaogi.’ Blogging is my vomiting. I make it sound so gross but it actually cleans your mind like Shell Helix which cleans your engine like no one else.

So well, how are you guys?
For the old followers of this place, remember how much fun life was back then? Posting something daily, tagging each other in posts which the tagged-ones seldom published, talking about the minutest detail of our lives and sharing secrets secretly; miss the times.

……

Have you ever felt the  dark take over you?
plenty of brightness can also make you blind.

Who exactly are we? The author of our lives? Writers fantasize, but we live in a practical world.
I can’t untangle these cords. Its much of a dare for a coward like me.

Idk. Jo bhi. Dafa karo.

Colours on the canvas ~

Remember the crazy old times when I used to post so much on my blog and spam your blogs with my fuzool comments and tweet and blog all day long skipping my MCAT classes? No? haw. Tsk tsk. Mar jao.

And remember the times when I used to get INSANNNELY Happy and jump right here and tell you all about it? About the random stupid stuff that used to happen in my life? No? uh- oh. Bezzti.

And then, remmmber how I stepped into a phase where I used to blog about everything, EVERYTHING depressing and negative? Yes? Chalo shukar.

So ladies and gentlemen,
For all those who are now getting bored of my 24/7/365 sad mode, I am ‘trying’ to get back to the old one. Which meaaans, yes I will blabber jabber about how the Jinnah hospital k bahar thelay walay uncle ka bunkabab will be served in my wedding ceremony along with the cone wali ice cream we get for das pandra rupay at the corner of some street (and oh, if you know where would I get that in Karachi now, TELL ME- I so wish to have it abhi)  and what else? I forgot :|

I just keep forgetting stuff these days. Not to mention, my final exams are going on. And ermm. Erm, okay nothing. Just pray I pass. IFFF that’s for my own good. You know, Allah mian knows best ;)

I GOTTA STUDY STUDY AND STUDDDAAAYYYYYY. Like a nerd with those oval-framed specs in black or dark brown color and a khaadi ka kurta. On al ighter note, whenever I image a nerd in my mind, I end up thinking of a guy. And these days, make it two guys on twitter who are studying ALL DAY ALL NIGHT AND EVEN IN THE 25TH HOUR OF THEIR DAY. Haye. Allah kamyaab karay sab parhnay walay bachon ko.

And parhai say yaad aya, what on earth is wrong with my university’s admin.

CVS + RESPIRATORY MODULE + CNS + HEAD & NECK = SECOND SEMESTER

Seriouslllyyy, wth.
just one word for them- OVER.

And I just got a call from Kisa which made me forgot what was I about to write.( SEE, I ‘FORGOT’ AGAIN) Par kher hai, it’s a Friday, so JUMMA MUBAARAK! Namaz parh lo musalmaano! -__-

and guess what? I am leaving in a while for buying cushions for the maternity home.

MATERNITY HOME pay tou blogpost honi chahye! And incase you’re wondering what it is, WAIT for that post with all shades of pink and green and what not. God help me.

I MISS TWEEEETING! I’LL BE TWEETING FROM THE EXAMINATION HALL NOW! \m/ Wesay bhi I am the first one to leave the hall at 3:30 or max 4, that is an hour earlier from the time when the exam should end. Phew. Namaazyon, dua karna pass hojaon. Allah hafiz!

Pinching sunshine and soothing storms.

A seed once sown by the best gardener
Had grown into a soothing plant
the plant grew big and mightier,
but also fell a little slant.

Winds much strong had tried a lot,
to make it bend and drag it down.
And, somehow, they did succeed,
but never did it frown-

Or drown in any bitterness-
or on doldrums from the fate.
it only gave the shade of love,
But never it shed hate.

Then formed a bud, tiny and dwarf,
they nourished it with care.
blessing – they thought- was it then when
the petite bud got a pair.

Another bud had bloomed and now,
they all were a happy family.
with a pinch of glitz, a bit of gloom,
a handful of love, with specks of being silly.

Era a further dawned,
 and they got a gift from God.
another sprout so fine and divine,
was now, under this pod.

Its roots grew long and firmly held
within the soil,enriched with tears.
but autumn seemed to knock too hard,
And since then, rose their fears.

The too-much-bright, rays of the sun
once a pal were now no more.
they shone so bright on the life of the plant,
and in sheer brightness, a verve it tore.

The plant’s soul, it’s life and might,
was just about to fade.
the other flower, and the growing buds,
striving efforts they made,

To save the essence of what had held them together,
since the start of their ride.
but fate got cruel and callous to them.
and was a step away from smashing their pride.

The final breath, as the flower took,
silence cried on that goodbye.
as one, they had faced a million storms,
but this time, the bond did die.

Years have now passed, the plant still grows,
and grieves over the loss of the past.
it aint that strong, it aint that weak.
but for long, for sure, it’ll never last.

From green to yellow, the leaves have turned.
the flowers are just a ritual.
the thorns are long and spiky as ever.
Nothing’s the same or usual.

Sunshine seems upset on them,
and so do the plants around.
all they lost, all they earned,
no more can be found.

Still they stand, boldly facing
the sunshine and the rain.
forgiving not forgetting,
the reason for their sorest pain.

God smiles from above,
at their blameless moans.
and gives them much strength,
stronger than our bones.

Now it flies with the wind,
with its core on the floor.
for storms in its way-
it is ready for more.

it recalls the astounding time,
when it sprouted tearing the rocks.
the journey would still go on.
with the key getting its lock.