Awake at 3am When I Don't Want To Be

I’d seen you around, heard talk of you before. Somewhere along the way we began exchanging smiles of acknowledgement. I began noticing your face whenever we were in the same room and started wondering if you were doing the same. Never thought you were much to look at before, but I stand corrected. I never really thought about it at all. Now I have to admit that I seem to find you pleasing to the eye, and when you speak it makes me smile. And it leaves me wondering…

I heard you on the drums and stories of your ineffable humour somehow always reach my ears. I never go looking for these snippets. Honest. I don’t know much else about you except that you seem like a pretty interesting person, a person I would have enjoyed getting to know only if circumstances had been different.

But the way things stand, you’ll go your way, and I’ll go mine, sharing nothing more than a minute’s polite conversation for a little while longer.

*****************************

Tried writing on the scenario above but I kept getting stuck because it hasn’t played out in real life yet and me being me, I need real life inspiration to spin a story. *sigh*

Perhaps in a couple of months when this is in the perfect past I’ll be able to word it out, when I know for sure the outcome and the people involved are no longer sharing my elevator every morning and evening.

Or maybe the words aren’t coming out right because I’m pushing my neurons to work at 3 am on a weekend when I’ve been relaxing for a good whole day prior to this doing pretty much nothing.

My alarm clock will ring in about 5 hours and I’ll begin my Sunday and I’m sincerely hoping that it’ll be a productive day because being a bum can get depressing. I think that’s why psychiatrists keep ‘suggesting’ that depressed individuals get a hobby… I totally get it now. I’m depressed enough to kill a cockroach. Usually I run away screaming because I hate their hairy legs and weird smell. Ok, am totally rambling now but sleep hasn’t set in yet!

On a different note, my roommate made buttercake and it’s a perfect pre-dawn snack for an insomniac like myself. I say pre-dawn because the sun rises at 4.30 nowadays. I might see the sunrise before I fall off into elusive slumber. Insomnia has its upsides I guess :)

My mum just called. It’s 7.30 back home and she had just finished sending my brother off to work. Dad’s still asleep. Sister and the cavalry are there for a few days. Sis-in-law and niece are still snuggled in bed. That’s where I’ll be in 31 days exactly and it’s just a matter of counting down the days now…

Though once I get home there’ll be a two month silence on my blog I suspect because when I am home my clock seems to have lesser than 24 hours a day :)

Right. This has got to be the most pointless post that I’ve ever written, but at least it’s giving me something to do. It was between pecking this out on my keypad and studying intusseption (a nenonate disease) and obviously intusseption won - not!

I hope you guys have a great day and don’t ever get cursed with insomnia. It’s a cruel thing indeed! Bubbye for now… And so ends my current case of the 'Insomniac Rambles' ;)

Life’s Drama: Lies and Forgiveness

Adam looked at the two adults seated at the same table and he thought back to the day that this had all begun:

“You talk too much!” the lady’s voice had been harsh with hardly suppressed anger.

“You should know,” the man had almost sneered at the beautiful woman dressed smartly in calf-length skirt and a light blue blouse. “Judging a person’s talk is what you do at work anyway and you never knew how to keep work and personal life separate, now did you?”

Adam had just looked on in bewilderment, gripping the handle of his little plastic mug tight, unsure of what to do.

“Are you saying something here? If you are, say it outright! We’re both adults. Aren’t we?” Her voice had become louder and louder and her eyebrow had shot up, a danger signal that the man knew very well.

“You want me to utter those filthy words. Words that you have no qualms about acting out.” He had wanted her to hurt. She deserved to after the hell she had put him through.

“I have had enough!” Her fists had been clenched into tight balls. “You are jumping to conclusions, and I will not stoop to your level! You did it before, you think I didn’t know? Well, I do and I think of it everyday and I-would-love-to-do-the-same-to-you!” Her words had been grated out between clenched teeth.

“You ungrateful ….!” The man had brought his fist down on the glass coffee table, shattering it in one violent movement and drowning out the rest of his words.

Adam had felt the tears falling and his chest had clenched in fear. “Mummy?” he had managed through his sobs. “Why are you and Daddy fighting?”

“We aren’t fighting, honey,” the lady had told him.

The man had been swearing under his breath.

“Jaan, you’re bleeding.” She had grabbed the table cloth and reached out for his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” he had snarled and stalked out of the room, a fury burning within his throat. 

Anger at her for seeking solace in another, anger at himself for not being able to deny her accusations. Disgust at himself for the accusations he had hurled at her, disgust at her for not honouring her vows. Fear for their home. Pity for Adam.

The cool wind from the porch had hit his face, helping him breathe a little easier. His hand had begun to throb where the glass pieces had pierced through.

“Da?” The voice had shook slightly.

The man had turned to face his eight-year-old. “Come here, son.”

The boy had gone to the man’s side. “Mummy asked you to hold the hand tight and wrap it in this,” the child had told him, brown eyes big and saucer-like as he held out a dish cloth. “Does it hurt, Da? Shall we go to the doctor?”

The man had laughed a short curt laugh. “I am a doctor, Adam.”

The boy had nodded and kept quiet for a minute. “I thought you told Mummy that she was always your doctor?” His brows had been furrowed as he tried to recall a memory.

“I’m not sure that’s true anymore.” The man’s voice had been gruff.

“Do you have another doctor now?” the boy had asked seriously.

“Jaan, get into the car. You probably need stitches.” The lady had appeared at the doorway with her handbag slung over one shoulder.

“Mummy, why are you crying?” Adam had asked noticing her tear-streaked face.

“Stop being melodramatic. I’m the one with the bleeding hands.”

“Just shut the hell up and get into the car.” Her voice had been cool. She knew her ability to keep an even temper infuriated her husband even more than her anger.

“Let me tell you what you can do with the car…” His voice had been dangerous and his eyes glinting as he advanced on her, pinning her against the white walls of the porch.

“Daddy, stop…!” Adam had started crying again as he watched his mother’s face pale with fear.

“Jaan, I never slept with him,” the lady had whispered into his broad shoulders. “There was flirting, but it was on his side.”

“You lie,” he had growled in a low voice.

“You believe what you want. I made it seem that way because I was mad at you about Anita.”

“What?” His dark eyes had been fixed on her face.

“She told me that…”

The man had taken two steps backwards. “That’s untrue. You actually believed her?” His tone had been incredulous.

“Why would she lie?”

“I wish I knew…”

“So, shared custody?” his father asked his mother and his polite voice cut through Adam’s reverie.

“Agreed. We’ll sell the house and car and share the sum equally.”

Now they were signing a whole sheaf of papers.  His father was in a hurry, he was going to meet Aunty Anita for tea. His mother’s cell phone beeped and she picked up the call.

“Hi, honey,” she said into the mouthpiece and Adam saw his father grimace.

His father had said that his mother was going to marry a friend from work but he still looked at her in the same way and at nights sometimes his mother cried herself to sleep and mumbled his father’s name in her troubled slumber.

The nine-year-old looked at the two adults who had been the pillars of his life and wondered how they failed to see what was so clear to him.

He watched the weave of the pen across the divorce papers as they signed the agreement to end their marriage and Adam felt hollow inside. He felt helpless and wished he could do something to make it right again. He watched and wished that they would see and understand that he did not want this.

“Take care then.” Adam stood by his father as his mother walked away and he heard the shallow intake of breath from his father and knew that it was a sigh of regret.

Adam wanted to cry but instead he put his hand into his father’s and held on tightly, willing him some comfort.

“Mummy won’t be coming back. She’ll be happier this way,” his father said softly as the black Toyota pulled away.

Adam wondered if what his father had said was true and wondered if his father actually believed it to be true. Adam wondered if his father was just pretending to be OK, like his mother was. Adam wondered how much longer he could wear the façade of the shoulder to lean against for his parents for he too was pretending not to hurt inside.

“All the world is a play and we are but actors in it”             -William Shakespeare -

“Forgive and forget. Easier said than done.”                        - Anon -

All About The Footwear

Feet are such interesting things. They judge a woman by the length of her second toe, a man by the breadth of his feet, poems and songs are inspired by the rosy pink feet of newborns. I find the things covering them just as fascinating, don’t you?

Take flip-flops for example. There are flowered, plain, star-bedazzled, smooth, the studded-pokey-type-which-improves-blood-circulation… then there are branded, market-bought, hand-me-downs, ‘borrowed’ from family or friends and so many more. I can almost imagine the character of the person by the flip flops that they wear. Like this:

Fun loving, relaxed, a bit of an order freak. But then again, I know whose feet those belong to!;)

Then there are pretty fits. Flats, heels, clogs, closed shoes, shoes open at the front, pointy toes, rounded toes, Roman sandals, sensible strap-ons, with buckle, bowed and patterned.

I find these pair of flats below pretty and amusing. At one glance I thought “Ah, pretty.” But just when I was going to turn away, the patterned detail caught my eye and I thought “Cool, it’s got attitude as well. Punk attitude!” And that pair of shoes alone almost changed my opinion of the person wearing them.

Football sneakers definitely are worth the mention too. I like the way they mould to the feet and the little studs at the base, giving the person wearing them that much more push off force. I’m not too big into football myself, but I find sneakers with football socks a nice sight. A bit strange, I know!

These were pretty much our standard pair of shoes in first year, when we hadn’t yet realised that in a four-season climate, we have got to have at least 4 pairs of shoes/slippers. Either that or our toes might get frost bite or we’d have sweaty athlete’s foot in warmer weather. Maybe that was a bit too much information? Hehe… sneakers are used pretty much in autumn or only when we go jogging nowadays, but sometimes I still slip into them for there’s nothing much else as comfortable as a pair of old sneakers, now is there?

Go ahead, click on it and read the scribbled message to get a picture of how weird uni life can get over here!

And my most faithful footwear – slippers! Not to be confused with flip-flops which have a bit more dignity, slippers are worn everywhere and may be worn with socks when the central heating has been turned off. Also useful on rainy days and when visiting the wet market.

                                       

Yin and Yang? :)

I don’t have a picture of a set of heels, or men’s formal lace up shoes, but they’re definitely on my list of important footwear as well. sWait. You do realise that I don’t actually have a list named ‘Important Footwear’, right? Right. Just thought I should confirm that with you…

Anyway, this is my official 50^th post, and I wanted to be all serious, then I thought to hell with it and whipped up this frivolous post on shoes ;) Have a nice day, all!

Saki Beach

It's Friday afternoon here and we just survived another major exam. The next 2 days are gonna be so hectic with tournaments and so many other things lined up I thought I'd post some pictures from our beach-BBQ-outing while I can. So, here goes...

We got there early and the water hadn't warmed up yet. Being the level headed adults that we are, we did this:

We ran screaming into the water and splashed around like a herd of hippos during the dry season, and had about as much fun :)

Then, our hunger set in and we got down to serious business. We ate. We barbequed. We sat and stared at the beautiful water, and marvelled at the sunlight glinting off its surface.We talked. And we ate some more. 

                           

Then we played touch rugby and volleyball till we got a bit bored and decided it was time for some torture. We caught a couple of our friends and buried them in the sand. The sand was warm on the surface and cool as we dug deeper. I particularly like this picture below: the hot afternoon sun cast our faces in shadows, brought out the deeper green of the sea and made the sky a heavenly blue - but I should just let you judge for yourself :) That's K in the sand by the way..

                             

We had to leave just before sunset, and though we didn't get a picture of the setting sun, we did manage to get this. The two boys in the picture add some character to it, I think.

                          

But I've always loved the sky meeting the sea and the sea meeting the shoreline ever since I was little.We are hoping to visit more places these next 6 weeks and maybe there'll be more amazing memories I can collect. We'll see...

Appreciation

I thought I'd attempt to pull a Pollyanna and learn to be thankful right now for what I have instead of waiting for tomorrow to be able to smile again...

Weirdly, this helped me feel better somewhat

I hope everyone has a great day ahead! :)

Too Close At Arm's Length

If your head is right above mine,

Then you’re standing too close to me,

If your hand is almost touching mine,

You’re there again, too close to me,

It makes me squirm, thoughts in my mind,

Would spell out something really fine,

They’d say: Back out of my face and let me be,

Because I hate the way you make me feel.

The look in your eyes makes my innards squeal,

A silent protest when your presence violates me.

Stay away, and do keep a safe distance;

You disgust me, for you I would not give a pittance!

I know your type, all charming and leery,

And I don’t have the time to be cheery,

Stay away and do keep a safe distance,

You make me sick, like a rabid dog all flea bitten. 

I realise the language in this is a bit harsh, but I’m not gonna make excuses coz I’ve written it almost

exactly like I felt it, perhaps I even made it a little milder…:l

And I know my posts have been somewhat dark. I’m working on getting my inner sunshine back, but till

then, please, bear with me, aite? :)

Accusations: Bring Them On!

I’m a feminist

I am? Really? A friend pointed out that in almost every story that I write, the main protagonists are female.

I objected - naturally. I pointed out that in the book-cover-thing, the boss’ personality was as important as Mrs. H’s personal life; in ‘Moving On’ A was a very important character that I probably didn’t develop enough; Kach had to be a woman because women were better with secrets and more easily confused by their emotions and family; and Khai had to be the main character because that’s how I heard the story.

Also, if my friend had read the posts on ‘Conditional Love’ and ‘Children’, my attempts at being impartial and my ability to admit the weakness of my own gender should work in favour of my objections, no?

But, maybe, just maybe, I am a feminist deep down inside. I’m a woman after all and coming from my family, I realise how much it means to accept a person for who they are, even if it’s just a girl proud of being a member of the fairer sex.

Confusing? I think I’m trying to say that I might be a feminist, but I’m not an extreme one, not to the extent of thinking 6-feet-tall women should rule the world at least… :D

I linger too much on the past

My label ‘Orchard of Memories’ has a surprising number of ? posts. I actually failed to notice that!

I’m not too sure, but I’ll go out on a limb here and say that that could be because I believe in this:

“The past and the people we meet along the way make us who we are and possibly affect what we’ll become in future, and I like to jot it down so that I might figure out what makes me tick inside”

Everyone and everything deserves due recognition. So yeah, I’m not going to refute this claim :P

I never blog on politics

True, what can I say… I usually don’t express things I don’t have faith in. That includes: politics, extraterrestrial life, the Lochness monster and flying pigs. Go figure.

I am commitment-phobic

Apparently they arrived at this conclusion because my label for some of my posts says ‘Commitment?’ with a question mark… Ooohhhkkkaaayyy

It isn’t that I question commitment, all right? It’s supposed to be taken with a dose of humour, people. Chillex, la!

I’m all pro-marriage like I pointed out bluntly in this, but yeah I doubt everlasting love and undying devotion unless it’s to a higher power i.e. scary mothers, frowning dads, cooing babies, crazy siblings and the Big Guy Up There who watches over us all :)

Relationships are fine by me, but excuse me if I seem cynical when a guy/girl professes love on the second date. I think you should make sure you’ve heard the other fart, go all ape sh*t over insignificant matters and do all the other normal human things before you decide the sun shines out of their ars*s… A bit old-school perhaps? :P

Others

I write a lot on other people. Why, thank you! That’s why it’s called ‘Connections’, because I’m trying to connect the dots between us all. Bridging the gap, breaking the ice, reaching out… that sorta thing!

This post and a number of others are dedicated exclusively to muah. So, this accusation, while being sweet to my ears, is not entirely true :)

I rarely use names

Most perceptive. I think that when I use a name, people get a certain image of the person. Imagine if my hero was named:

Aaron – you might picture a tall blonde guy with braces riding a bicycle or a Jew complete with tall black hat and beard

Joginder – you’re probably thinking of a tall Punjabi guy with a purple turban, doing the ‘light bulb move’ to a Bangra remix

When I do use names, like Khadijah, it’s to show something. In Khadijah’s case it’s a classic Muslim name reflecting her traditional upbringing.

Since I write based on real life experience mostly, the lack of full names also offer a level of anonymity to my subject(s?) of interest at that given time.

My font is usually small and I love colours, I love words

Completely true! :)

I ‘see’ God in waaayyy too many things

            The night got late, and talk turned philosophical. My concept of seeing God in water, children and mothers made for a long, rambling conversation with another friend. But honestly, I find the simple things like human bonds and nature the best way to appreciate a higher power, and if I can’t be honest in my own blog, where my worldly identity is pretty much shrouded in shadows, then why blog, right? Blogging’s meant to express what I feel and think and believe after all!:P

            Wait, what if I have ‘God complex’? O_o

Err… I’ll save that question for another day – not a path I’m willing to tread right now!

All in all I never thought the way I blog could be analysed to this detail, but I’m thankful for the external scrutiny. Perhaps it’ll give me a fresh insight to who I am. Even if it doesn’t, it did generate yet another winding post from me anyways… A post not quite on par with an episode of the Myth Busters, which I find good fun incidentally…  ;)

Victory Day Weekend

We had a long awaited 3-day weekend. It happened to coincide with Mothers' Day :)... seeing as how the weather was becoming warmer, we hired a marshutka  and went down to Saki Beach, about 30 minutes away from Evpatoria which I mentioned here and here.

We had good food : satay, chicken, kuah kacang, sandwiches, drinks to quench our thirst... The beach was very near the railway tracks but I suspect it may be abandoned because in our 6 hours there we neither saw nor heard a single train, but the spot made for a memorable picture for us girls :) I'll leave us all unnamed for the sake of anonymity, yeah?

The water was too cold to swim in intially but we did that running away from the waves thing that we urbanites are so fond of. The water was beautiful, the little pebbles underfoot were pokey and prickly...
I've never seen such GREEN waters in person before. All other seasides I've been to have been blue. I like the greenness though... :D

A beach wouldn't be a beach without flip-flops and grainy sand. 

We had it all - the food, the beach, the sand, salty water and good company. Will definitely post more pictures soon, Saki Beach deserves more than one blogpost!!

Dates and Celebrations

I used to have a little piece of paper in my sizable clutch on which I would scribble important dates, mostly birthdays and anniversaries. I haven’t updated that scrap in sometime because:

1.     1. I somehow always forget to write down the dates

2.     2. I depend ever more on my phone reminders and calendar with cute little cake icons in the corner

3.     3. Facebook’s all I need to remember birthdays – the reminders, the recent comments and shoutouts on the  

           home page

4.     4. Friends and family who blog usually give me a heads up about upcoming important dates

5.     5. My memory has been pretty good to date *touch wood*

Unfortunately, as grouchy as I can get, my social circle’s expanding and as much as I’d like to deny it, I’m getting older and you know what they say about women: once we hit the midtwenties, our hips grow inversely to our memory power i.e. the hips whooooossshhh outward and memory capacity pretty much hits rock bottom. I’m going to need a proper organizer sometime – that sometime is probably not too far off I suspect – because I just forgot a loved ones’ birthday. I know. Evil.

Wonderful. Now I can look forward to getting hippy. Not hippie. But am still banking on my genes and hoping that senility and portliness don’t get to me. Ever. Yes, I’m in denial of the potential future. It happens.

Denial --> Anger --> Bargaining --> Depression --> Acceptance

The above is the stages of death. Death of my once-exceptional memory and never-before-this wide hips. And I’m only at denial. It’s gonna be a LOOONNNNGGG road before I stop harping on this. My dwindling cognitive abilities and possible future weight issues. Still nonexistent for now. I think :S

Oh yeah. Happy Mothers’ Day by the way. This is one of the few celebrations that make sense to me, because where would we be without our mothers? 

A kink in the clouds lets the sun through

The same skies that smile upon you too

The murky greys always seem more blue

Every time I get to talk to you, it's true...

The cursive writing on that shiny paper

Filled my heart with joy, eyes with water,

A note from beyond made my day brighter.

For as much as we argue and bicker,

And think each other impossible in anger,

Nobody else knows me better.

I love you and miss you, Amma. Happy Mothers' Day!! To Pi and Vans too, of course :) 

"God could not be everywhere at once, and so He made mothers" 

I've always liked that quote....and so I'm quoting it! :D