Monthly Archives: June 2013

A Dose of Sanity, for the Insane

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The things that drive me crazy are the things that make me feel alive. There’s so much to experience in life and there’s not enough time! Safety mocks the outrageous risks that I take. Security is too mainstream and over rated.

I might not be able to do all the things I would want to do in life. But the process of imagining that one day, you might be able to bungie jump, skinny dip or sky dive with your best mates in your favorite country, it’s an experience in itself. Call me a day-dreamer if you may, but hoping for happy days is not a cardinal sin. At least not from where I stand.
I watched a movie Now Is Good in which a leukemic 17 year old girl makes a list of the things she wants to do before she dies. I say, why do we need an excuse to do that? Each and every one of us is bound to die, sooner or later. Then why not give yourself a chance at enjoying life?

My best friend just said this to me today, If you stop being such a cynic, you’d realize, life is beautiful. As much as my skepticism provoked me to argue with her, I didn’t. Because she wasn’t wrong. Beautiful does not have to be perfect. I do not consider beauty to be universal, in strict terms. Sometimes, the apparently ugliest things hold such beauty in them, that not every person can appreciate. Commonly appreciated notions and accepted cliches are self imposed authorities.

A great person once told me one of the greatest rules I live by these days, free yourself! To be very honest, this isn’t easy at all. Freedom is one of the most controversial issues these days. But I think, there are levels of freedom that can be attained. This freedom that I speak of, is the freedom from mental enslavement. “He said this…” and “She wants me to do that…” or “But what will they think?”… Get rid of it! It is your life. Wouldn’t it be better if you lived it instead of someone else?Image

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Phoenix

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She furiously scribbles down the words of deception. “Pathetic”, she murmers under her breath.
She’s frustrated, she always is. Lost in her self conjured realm of a black hole containing nothing but baseless and pointless rants. She feeds on the self pity that disgusts her.
“Move on, you drag” she grumbles like a mumbling thunder. Rage is all she can think of. A rage that she can not explain, neither it’s origin, nor it’s destination.
It is a façade, she knows it. After all, she hates cracking open her chest to show off the bloody heart pumping in it’s battered form. Plunging into negativity is always something she does, often and fondly. It was sick, maybe psychotic. But she needs to put a finger on the throbbing pain. She can’t, unless it can be percieve through her senses.
Sweet surrender, it is. Her vanity swells up to over confidence. She is so sure that she can rise from her ashes. Before that, she has to proceed with her own funeral, burn her own dead body and then reserruct from the dust and smoke that once was her flesh and blood.
“How Emily Dickinson-ish of me”, she snickers.
She slowly raises her bloodshot gaze. The dying amber of the dusk lit a fire in her eyes accompanied by the twitch of her lips that formed a grin.

But you promised!

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It’s amusing, how random words from random sources might be so relateable. The universality of human nature connects us to each other. The context might be different, but the essence is the same.

This particular quote is from a TV show I have grown very fond of. Who doesn’t like their favorite character being killed off as soon as they become likeable? Might as well die before they become despicable. But that moment, when you have to grasp the idea that you won’t be seeing more of that character anymore provokes some baser emotions.

A state of denial tends to overwhelm us and then we seek escape. It would be better to just leave it all behind and move towards some new horizon. The disgust of bitter betrayal makes us feel like we have been  victimized. Which leads to over thinking, over analyzing and unnecessary contemplation. A big fat mess, that’s what it is.

But escape is not the solution. We can’t just get a ticket to no-land and burn the glorious present to ashes, can’t we? Or can we? In order to maintain the balance of our lives, we make certain things as we break others. We agree to hold on to certain hands and let go of others. But what about the things you have to break and let go to? They’re left behind, to learn a lesson. Or maybe just dwell in self-loathing. Either way, the suffering is inevitable.

Or maybe this is all an exaggeration to justify our guilt. Because, we’re in the state of denial. We have been betrayed and we have to come up with a logical answer. Why?

Unchained

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Another day, another fool; she smacked her lips with disapproval.

She raised her heavy eyelids to the young, nervous lad sitting at the other side of the desk. The desk between them made a difference; who sat on which side was all a matter of how the dice rolled. Somehow, she couldn’t recall being in his shoes. In a casual glance, she had made her decision.

“Mister…” She looked down at the piece of paper lying in the orange folder. I hate the color orange. What a distasteful, unpleasant choice! “Mr. Borough, yes. Thank you for your time but if I were you, I’d look out for other options, as well.” She’d done it, again! The despicable manner of hers; sugar coated, no-nonsense attitude with a slightly authoritative tone. She could sense his perspiration rate increase and that annoyed her. He nodded and hustled to gather his belongings as he prepared to make his way out the door. Another random face; She could not have been less bothered.

She heaved a sigh as the door shut behind the freshly graduated student. Harvard, Yale, Oxford or Cambridge, whose father was who or what family a person belonged to, what car who drove or what house they lived in, it bored her. It was all too cliche. She had seen too much of it. The cycle of handing over the responsibilites and facilities from generation to generation was monotonous. Rome was not built it a day and no one realized that unless they’d made a contribution.

“I want a crude piece of coal, raw material to exhaust my efforts and invest myself in.” She thought to herself. Her eyes fell upon the 3 carat pink rock embedded in the band wrapped around her left hand’s ring finger. She hadn’t got used to it yet; the ring or the fact that she was engaged. It made her silently giggle. It was not a happy giggle of a young lady in love with the man who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Rather, it was a snicker that failed to conceal her amusement. She had known him for years and they seemed to share an intimate agreement that this course of fate was inevitable. Neither of them objected this decision of match making. It was for the better, instead of prodding around looking for someone to fall for and go through a series of messy arrangements. They had never been in a relationship or talked about their feelings. One night after a casual dinner, he opened the small blue box with the ring in it.

“What do you think about it?” He asked with a smudge look on his face. He knew the answer.

“It’s huge and pink.” She said blankly. “I’ll take it.” And that was it.

With an automatic movement, she checked her cell phone that displayed the usual phrase, “no new notifications”. She put it down without significantly reacting and looked up at the clock; 2:34pm. The clock is too bright for this office. I’ll buy a new one tomorrow. She turned back to the computer screen and let the hours pass by just the way they did every day.

People would come and go, say yes and no, meet her, listen to her, talk to her, give her anonymous documents and the mechanism proceeded, unaltered. This is what people call success. She rolled her eyes and looked up at the clock again; 4:42pm.

“You are so full of yourself!” A twenty-something aderinaline-driven, sharp-looking young man stormed into her office. His face flushed with anger and contempt.

“Don’t wet yourself, kiddo” She said, coolly as she returned to her computer.

“He was from Harvard, Meesha! If that’s not what you want, then what do you want? Could you at least be courteous enough to tell me that!”

“Sit and calm down before you get a stroke.” She did not look up from the screen as he paced back and forth. “Just because your sister owns the company does not give you any special privileges. At least not apart from the ones you already have.”

“I’d known him ever since I was ten years old!” He said, annoyed.

“It seems like you’re still ten years old, Muneeb.” She was getting impatient. “If you want your friends around, then call them over at your place and play the zillionth Assassin’s Creed or whatever you’re into these days. This office is not your playground.”

“Stop treating me like a kid!” He had stopped pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Then stop acting…” Her phone rang and he marched out of the office, muttering under his breath. She looked at her cell phone as the name Aaliyan illuminated the screen. She picked it up.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” She inquired, half-amused. It was 4:45pm. He was right on time, as he’d been for years.

“You might as well appreciate my effort of being a good fiancé, Meeshpops.”

“You’re the best, Aaliyan. You know that.” She looked at the pink glistening diamond on her hand. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be wearing this thing around all day.”

“That confuses me. Should I be flattered or taken aback?” Before she could answer that, she could hear someone call him at the other end. “That’s my cue. Are you still up for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, of course but I might be a bit late.”

“Alright, see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

With the abrupt end of the phone call, she looked up at the clock again; 4:49pm. She quickly wrapped things up and made her way out. After the usual goodbyes by all the people she encountered on her route outside, she pushed the main exit doors and let the city air gush in her face. She walked to her shiny car with the evident benz hallmark glistening. What model was it? She couldn’t even remember. She quickly got in and drove away.

Leaving the reverend buildings behind, she drove into posh residency and parked her car in the garage. Almost jumping out of the car, Meesha rushed inside and directly went into her room. Within ten minutes, she transformed from a critical and savvy businesswoman to a carefree, youthful and laid back lady. Her neat and sober attire had turned into a baggy t-shirt and an old pair of faded denims. Her flawless make up had been washed away revealing her fresh features. She pulled out the hair pins that held her hair in a tied knot and she let her hair fall down, lose. She quickly put on her flip flops  and went back to the garage.

She marveled the beauty of the 1965 navy blue mustang that her father once drove. She grabbed the car keys and started the car. Her eyes shone as if the engine had ignited life into her, too. She drove out of the garage, the town and then the city.

The sun was dipping down as blood red rays oozed through the patches of white above the skyline. She put her huge sunglasses on and lit a cigarette as she drove by the rural outskirts. She cranked up the volume and sang along to the Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of her lungs. She opened the windows of the car and let the wind blow through her hair. She laughed as she let herself drown in the colors that surrounded her.

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