gulon mein rang bharey baad-e-nau bahaar chaley, chaley bhi aao keh gulshan ka karobar chaley...

The votes have been cast, the result has been announced, the season is over and the SOUL PATROL has officially emerged victorious against the stupid McPheever! Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, Taylor Hicks is the new American Idol...woohoo!!! Watching the finale yesterday morning live at 5am was actually fun even though I grew increasingly worried that the one contestant who I hated from the word go would somehow manage to win...I was relieved by the results is definitely an understatement! And the fact that I had a Pakistan Studies final in the evening and I was up till 7am thanks to Idol wasn't worrisome until the moment when I was actually IN the exam room! hehe.

But now, almost two days later, the quarter is over...oh yeahhh! FINALLY! Last exam this morning, last look at lums for the next nine days...three quarters through already and, as clichéd as it sounds, the ride's been pretty quick so far. Time has pretty much flown by, through good and bad. I already feel like I've changed in some ways, some for the better and, of course, some maybe for the worse though I'd rather not admit that. Haha. But I still think the positives are outweighing all the evils at the end of the day, and it's the little things and short moments of sheer fun that make me feel like saying right now that "it's all good folks!"

Okay okay, I'm sounding like some corny greeting card. I realise that without anyone having to roll their eyes in exasperation or amusement. But all I meant was that despite the fact that you might be friendless at times, that you're devoid of hope every now and then...something or the other comes up and, often unconsciously, you just make it through it all unscathed.

I was thinking back over this past quarter. Trying to mark some of its high-lights - university related life that is of course. I spoke up in my Political Science class once off my own accord! Haha...believe it or not, it IS an achievement even if it came in the 29th lecture and I'm still miserably below the CP mean for the course! If I could do it once, then maybe I can do it again - I just need to get used to the concept. And...*drumroll*... I voluntarily went for an interview (model WTO society), and even managed to get selected somehow!!! Okay okay OKAY..it doesn't sound big. Not even remotely interesting but, firstly, it's my blog, I can be boring when I want to and, secondly, for me it's a huge step forward and I want to revel in it for as long as I can. Lame as that sounds.

And then of course surviving three SS courses which my friends said I wouldn't be able to cope with, making a couple of new friends (even socialising is something that I normally suck at!), asking two people for help in multivariate calculus (bearing in mind that these are two of those people who I am most scared of within lums!), entertaining my friends endlessly and free of any cost, going to the Reading Circle meetings and even speaking up when forced to...for some reason all this stuff makes me feel happy in an odd way. Like maybe I can do something with my life...perhaps there is a world beyond futile hopes and self-pity. Maybe, just maybe, it'll all work out fine in the end. All of it. ALL of it...maybe...

But one thing hasn't changed. Not yet at least. Much as I want to block it out of my memory, much as I need to not think of it, much as I should escape from it...the memory of that gray t-shit still strikes me at my most vulnerable. And it always manages to leave me even more insecure and broken than before. And yet, sometimes it still makes me smile. It might be a sad smile, but it is a smile nevertheless. I know, at a purely rational level, that it's all so absurd that I should just stop hoping and wanting, and should just move on with life. But in the battle of the heart and mind, it's easy to know that the latter should dominate but, more often than not, emotion reigns...

...when practicality and reason are words that never existed and never meant anything...when it's just the sanctity of one person you yearn for.

What are you supposed to do then?

Yesteryears.

I'm not so audacious as to claim myself to be someone who has tons of amazingly close friends or anything; quite the contrary in fact. However, I am sure of one thing and that's the fact that I'm not a fair-weather friend. Never! If I genuinely care about someone then I'll go out of my way to do anything and everything for that person. And the trouble is that, more than often, I learn to care too easily. And trust too quickly. Somehow or the other, I always manage to attach myself to people way to soon for my own good. I know it, and yet I always end up doing it. I hate myself for that. And then, even when I know not to, I tend to have expectations from others. It's stupid, especially since I know it's my own fault if I get hurt, but I just can't help doing it...it's a horrible feeling, but it is what it is and maybe I can't change that...

Sometimes, I honestly wish I could just turn back time and remain a little kid for ever. Even a few years backwards might do the trick. Back to when the most intriguing issues in life were being unbeatable at dodge-the-ball, being on the netball team and spending hours playing throwball at school, be it June or December. When it didn't matter that you didn't have one or two special, 'best' friends because it wasn't weird to hang out with everyone. When no one judged you for being overweight or loud-mouthed, and no one cared that you had bad skin, unruly hair and non-existent interest in the latest fads and fashions. When school was not a cut-throat competition, rather it was just a place to have fun and get good grades without studying hard. When the fact that guys existed in the world couldn't matter less to you because they were less important than the most meaningless creatures in the world. When the biggest fear on a week-day was not how to have the courage to speak up in class and score CP, because it was much more difficult to stay still and keep quiet in class for more than five minutes. When the word 'heartache' was something you thought you knew without realising that you hadn't the slightest idea of what hurt could actually be. When you'd laugh your head in ridicule if someone suggested that one day you'd be sitting in a room full of people, attending a philosophy class, physically present but otherwise withdrawn, with meaningless tears blurring your vision every now and then because you just wouldn't know where to go... because you just wouldn't know how to handle it... because you just wouldn't know if it was all even worth it......

As childish as it sounds, sometimes I just want to go back to being the happy-go-lucky person that I lost track of...sometimes I wonder if I've really forgotten how to not care about people who don't care about me...sometimes I wish I never had to grow up...

...sometimes I wish I was the Peter Pan who makes it to Neverland - never to grow up and never to come back!

It was all an oddity in one sense. Dialogues loud enough to blast your ear-drums, tissues stuffed in ears in a desperate attempt to muffle the sharpness of the sound… old men hobbling across the seats with walking sticks, air-conditioners going on and off every few minutes off their own accord, uncles and aunties with silver-gray hair leaning towards one another every now and then to exchange some comment…a short chuckle over some joke, perhaps…an intimate moment of privacy in that simple gesture made in the midst of, but untouched by, the huge world swallowing them up.

A movie from over 40 years ago. A story passed down through decades, and I still find it extremely absurd. Cinematography, direction, lighting and even acting still soaring high above contemporary cinema. And the music! Work of a master-class, undoubtedly…beautiful and spell-binding for the most.

Yet, my interest wavered ever so frequently. The day took its toll and I almost dozed off unconsciously several times.

The love shown may have meant to be magical but, strangely enough, it failed to touch me. The willing sacrifice of a life for a beloved somehow seemed unreal – more like martyrdom than real love. It wasn’t relatable, it didn’t strangle. Nor even captivate. I still wonder why.

My eyes closed for a brief respite and I expected to see the usual dark void behind the sheltered lids. Or, at most, I expected some random image to come forth into my mind. It didn’t. I was somewhat surprised, somewhat amused and somewhat lost. All I could perceive was that gray t-shirt… and those hands. The long fingers, so artistic and captivating – so beautiful that I knew I wanted to hold on to that hand and never let go. All I wanted was to clench that shirt, bury my head there and let go of all reality. Forget everything, even my own existence. Think of nothing, not even why I wanted that sanctuary. Stay there, with the person I was once at risk of falling in love with…stay there and never let go…never…never…

The moment seemed sacred in one sense, and scary in other…in parts, it was a revelation, in parts a mere absurdity. Yet the longing was there. The need did exist then.

Two days later, I have my memory of that image. It never existed, yet it was as real to reality as imagination could be. The image would pale in comparison to reality, I know, but reality can never occur.

I simply remember…and I smile.