Just thought I'd post here that I no longer post here..hehe. I mean, just incase there are some of the old people who still visit this page once in a blue moon and wonder where I've vanished, I felt like leaving my new blog's address here; please do come visit there! (yeah, a li'l advertisement never hurts, right?!) And why did I change this blog? That's a long, complicated and rather technical explanation which I'd rather not delve into for fear of boring away anyone who IS being nice enough to read this post right now :)

So anyway, to cut a long story short...my blog is now at http://macharvibes.spaces.live.com/

Just a little of that human touch.

As the car drove through the night, she rolled down her window despite the chill, and stuck her head outside. It was another Lahore winter night - misty and yellow. She probably unconsciously thought that the cold breeze would dry the tears that silently and stubbornly escaped the corners of her closed eyes and snaked their way down her face; it didn't. It froze them on her cheeks though, leaving behind their wet and slightly sticky streaks. The biting wind numbed her cheeks and nose, and even her hands and torso eventually, but it was unable to penetrate deep enough to freeze her soul. It remained unbearably heavy. And weary. All she longed for was someone - anyone - by her side... to hold her hand in silence and let her cry until she needed to. The little dream, as simple as it was, was just as far-fetched and unreachable as the most fantastic illusion. She knew that too. She'd already spent the evening sitting at a lone table, pretending to stare at the papers in front of her while the printed words endlessly swam before her eyes - so near and yet so undeniably unapproachable. Every now and then she'd unwittingly glance up at the people entering and leaving. There was no particular face she longed for. Just a friend. Many people passed her there, many not noticing her presence but some eyes paused upon her momentarily. Many of them didn't know her but some did. All of them saw the silent tears glistening in those eyes and the wet lashes, and the slight tremble of the lips. And all of them walked on, unconcerned and untouched...not one of them stopped, even for a few meaningless seconds. Not one. None of them.

They say there's no feeling in the world worse than being lonely. There is. She knows better. She is lonely... but the world never lets her forget....

Ain't no mercy on the streets of this town
Ain't no bread from heavenly skies
Ain't nobody drawing wine from this blood
Its just you and me tonight
Tell me, in a world without pity
Do you think what I'm asking's too much
I just want something to hold on to
And a little of that human touch
Just a little of that human touch
(from Human Touch, by Bruce Springsteen.)

And so it is...

It's odd that I make blogposts in my head almost every day...every other day, at least. Usually at night...when I'm brushing my teeth or looking for books that I might need to take with me the next morning - stuff like that. And the weirder part is that they come out so coherent and easy; the words just flow and, believe it or not, most of the time they're even quite amusing! And then, once I'm done with my "post" in a few minutes, I always think that I should sit down, there n' then, and type it all out. And somehow, I never do. And then, days later, when I sit down to actually write on my blog, I can't come up with anything to say; not even anything about the most menial, ordinary day-to-day stuff that's been going on lately. Maybe it's time to come up with an audio blog or something, eh? :)

Anyway, life's been a whirlwind lately...fact is, lately seems more like foreverrrr, but I've been told that it's only been a maximum of 10 weeks. 10 weeks of one quarter, that is. But it's been tough - honestly. The word "hectic" seems to have found so many new dimensions that I think I'm beginning to lose count of them now! I can't wait for it all to be over...just one day at a time, I keep on repeating to myself. And when even that sounds like too much to bear, I break it down into little 2 or 3-hour chunks and keep telling myself that the little chunk is all I need to think about and get through, 'cause the rest isn't a concern at that time. Sometimes, it works and I can get my mind to start behaving itself for long enough to get through the next hour or two, depending on whatever the specific time or task is. But, more often than not, it's just a stupid facade that I sometimes wonder why I'm putting up. I mean, how stupid is the very concept of trying to fool your ownself over something that you don't believe in? Isn't that one of the most superficial things a person can even think of doing?

And I don't mean only in times like I've mentioned...I mean it for so many other things. Every other little thing in life counts too. Why do we all try to lie to ourselves, though? I wonder sometimes. I really do. And, obviously, I don't know. If I did, I'd probably be rich n' famous by now..haha. I mean, what's there to gain from trying to hide the truth from yourself? Does it help to ease the pain? Does it make the hurt go away? Or does it even help by making one eventually believe the lie if it's repeated often enough and vehemently enough? I really, really doubt it. You can cast aside your fears, but you never really let go of them...you're just burying them deep, deep within...so deep that you think they're gone, they don't exist anymore. But it's all an illusion. Because they're still there. Buried so deep into the abyss of your very soul that you can't even feel their presence ordinarily. But they're still there. And they will surface again. Sooner than you ever thought, sooner than you ever wanted. So much sooner. And they leave you crushed and confused - so much worse than before. So much more confused and deluded....and then, you start it all over again. The same vicious cycle. Lies. Different ones, same purpose. Fabricated again. Told again. Still to your own self. Forced belief, forced acceptance...forced so viciously and deperately that it's hard to realise that it's all futile. And yet, we go on. Lying to ourselves...living in denial...knowing what we're doing and still doing it....

The other day, someone commented in a conversation that "in the end it's really how you think about it yourself that really counts.. beause it's only you who can convince yourself." That made me say that it might be true but then agian, it's also only yourself who you can't really lie to no matter how much you try to. Or really want to...or even need to.

So what does the paradox mean then? Is that all that life is worth? Just defining its paradoxes and lamenting them and then moving on?

Do such questions even exist? Or is it all just "in the head"? And if it is just there, does that make it any less real? Any less relevant? Was Descartes' evil genius not so evil after all, because that's how things actually are in this world? Or is the world itself just a figment of the imagination, and we all see it through our own blurred, shadowed, opinionated view-finders and each seek to see only what comforts them?

And why do we all ask such absurd questions in the first place? Everyone claims to be "looking for the answers", but never finds them. Maybe it's because no one's really searching whole-heartedly in the first place....

Truth is, maybe we're all too scared of the answers and so we shirk away from anything that contradicts our beliefs. Scared? What? Yes...scared, because at some level, we all know that we're shallow. And self-interested. Only. And we're scared that if we actually ponder life's questions with the intention of finding the answers, that's what we'll get. Plain, cold facts...about all of us. And even that is part of the self-imposed denial, buried beneath the scared lies we tell ourselves. Because, at the end of the day, all we care about is ourselves. All we can possibly care about is probably ourselves. You. Me. ALL of us.

And we hide it beneath a veneer of pseudo-intellect. We create and debate and ponder - and it's all pretense.

So, if that's how things are, it'll all build up and blow up in our faces one fine day, right? No, it won't. It'll all go on as it has been. Nothing will ever change...

I'll keep on deluding myself that I care. And you'll keep on living your life without noticing.

...just like you said it would be.

I've got random songs stuck in my head

I haven’t been blogging regularly for quite a while now; I’ve wanted to on several occasions but there just hasn’t been enough time to sit down and write a post at leisure. Sounds kinda far-fetched, but it’s true. The workload this quarter has just been insane. That’s it. No other word to describe it actually, that’s how horrible it is. Assignments, papers, quizzes, deadlines, mid-terms, readings…one would think there’s a limit to the various types of torture a poor student can be subjected to. Apparently not. And then my over-exuberant nature that has compelled me to venture into the previously relatively unexplored avenues of the “rest of the world” at school has added more to the strain than to the fun. And then, there IS a life away from school (yeah, I still call university school…whatever) unbelievable though it may sound! And that part of life has seen so many little things going on too lately. Some good. And some…well, not-so-good. But, at the end of everything, life’s still going on…

Ramadan’s been sort of passive this time round. I’m not really sure what I even mean when I say that. But the month’s been more mellow than I remember it from before; more quiet somehow. Or maybe that’s just the effect of not having the tv downstairs so there’s no more waking up to the nauseating sounds of Dr Aamir Liaqat at Sehri, or having to listen to him drone on and on in his know-it-all annoying style, with that smirk etched permanently on his face (which I absolutely fail to understand why everyone else can’t see!) that just can’t be wiped off for some absurd reason, and his holier-than-thou attitude which irks the hell out of me and his aura of superiority which apparently people think is the ‘air of a true religious scholar’, while all the time his fakeness and plasticity make him look like a self-satisfied *something* that I’d rather not say in public!…. I swear, sometimes it scares me to think of what our country might come to one day!

But Sehri is still as torturous a business as it’s been over the past few years…digesting anything at that hour is just impossible, no matter what anyone says. But by now, I’ve sort of fallen into the monotonous, mechanical routine of somehow eating at sehri…bite, chew, chew, swallow…bite, chew, chew, swallow, down a gulp of water and start the first step again…repeat until the end of one slice of bread is somehow accomplished, drink another glass of water while ignoring the pleading resistance of your stomach and trudge back upstairs…another sehri somehow survived.

But, to be honest, Ramadan’s going alright; I don’t mind it at all because it hasn’t made much of a difference to anything. Of course, that’s as long as you don’t switch on the tv at the inopportune hours that I’ve already commented upon :)

In a way it’s almost weird that life’s been such a whirlwind recently, and different too because of that and, yet, the same old fears still somehow find ways of surfacing and hurting and making you think, especially when you don’t want to. I mean, like there’s this lame ol’ thing people say that ‘loved ones hurt you must’. They don’t know half of it…everyone thinks it means that the closer someone is to you, the more something they say will hurt you. But what of the hurt that comes from someone you care about not saying something to you? Not in the sense that you want to hear something special from them or anything…nothing of that sort! But just when you know that someone you care about a whole lot is upset and doesn’t talk to you about it? When you know that you’d do anything you could to make them feel better? That hurts so much more than anything anyone ever says or does to you could…to know that you care and not be able to show it because the other person probably doesn’t think of you as friend enough to tell you what’s wrong…what of that helplessness? What to do then?

Sometimes I seriously wonder whether it’s just idiotic to care so much…

*sigh* But anyway, this wasn’t supposed to be a sad post wallowing in self-pity; it wasn’t supposed to be anything in particular, just matter-of-fact maybe.

So…yeah, in other news, I’ve learnt that the one thing I was better than Federer at no longer exists; apparently, I’ve lost my edge. I mean isn’t it enough for him that he’s the world number 1 tennis player on top of the fact that he’s good-looking n’ talented n’ famous n’ breaking records left and right n’ still goin’ strong?! The one liiitttle thing where I surpassed him (or so I thought!) was my writing skills…for some reason, he doesn’t want to grant me that tiny satisfaction either! He just had to write the one-week blog for atp tennis and it just had to be so much more interesting and funny and better-written than mine…hmmphh, I’m jealous! :S hehe. But I do admit that I love him more after his blog ‘cause it was so good…and yeah, it was better than mine, painful admission as that may be! And incase any one wants proof - or if any one is simply a Roger Federer fan, or a big tennis fan otherwise too :) – I’d strongly recommend visiting the blog. http://www.atptennis.com/1/en/blog/current_federer.asp

I just realised that this post has turned out like a long email instead of a blog post…I wonder where I went wrong :S There’s a lot more I could drone on about but writing random stuff from the past few weeks has kinda lost its charm over the past few minutes or so…

I dunno, things have just been crazy lately…people I never expected to have been pretty nice recently, courses I expected to mess up have been going good, ones I was planning to do well in have turned out twisted, relatives who I’m not ready to let go of yet have fallen very sick out of the blue, interviews that have scared the living crap out of me as a rule have turned out well, writing which used to be a life-saver is something I’ve been put off from lately…weirdness and randomness is at an all-time high…

…but to Him up there, it’s all just a big game, ain’t it? ;)

One hi-lighter bright yellow, one lime green...a beige 'gabucha' (local term for a beanbag chair)...a steaming mug of espresso, high on caffeine...books and notes and jstor articles spewed about haphazardly...ms-word blinking on the computer screen, displaying unfinished sentences...a calculator waiting to be turned off...a metal lamp scorching hot from overuse...and just one weary person, stranded in the midst of it all...on an island where the calming blues of the ocean can not be seen no matter how far you run, where the beauty of a golden-orange horizon doesn't beckon you to let go of all worries and soar towards it...where sheer will-power is useless...where only caffiene can grant you a lifeline and spread its tingling warmth through your frazzled nerves and clear your mind, but only for a few hours at a time...

where life is a perpetual race against time in which the finish line is no longer in sight...

how much longer, God, how much longer?

If Hala knew I'm writing this post just for her I s'pose she'd expect me (mind you, EXPECT..not merely want, but actually be audacious enough to expect!) to say that the sun's stopped shining down on lums, the birds have ceased their merry chirping, the clouds seem dreary, the trees have lost their swagger and the whole campus is no more bright and cheerful! Tall order, ain't it? But that's exactly what you get when you're dealing with Hala...the whole deal, whether you like it or not. In fact, the more you don't like it, the more likely it is that you're stuck with all of it - the tongue-biting sarcasm, the complete inconsideration of your feelings, the air of superiority that gazes down upon you...and the thick, thick skin which no one (well, almost no one :P) can get under!

Consider all of that and it's quite likely that you'll feel foolish for telling her that she shouldn't go. Or rather, you'll very seriously believe that I must be reasonably insane for telling her that she shouldn't go. Umm, you might actually be right...I'm still working on that one!

But regardless of the wiseness of what I said, I did say it. And mean it.

She left anyway.

About 8 months...that's about all I've known her. And 8 minutes is about all it took for her to make clear that 'twas the genrosity of her regal spirit that permitted her to shine her attention upon us lowly subjects the very first day I was introduced to her. Intimidating...I know!

I'm glad to report that the haalaat improved considerably soon after. Not that the sarcasm ever went away for long enough to make me feel comfortable; rather, the more she got to know, the more she used me as a not-so-loyal subject to sharpen her tongue on.

And it's not even as if I never gathered any ammunition against her. Of course I did. Very soon, in fact. Maybe even more than she had. The afternoon talks in the pdc during the 'juma' break, sitting on the pdc wala footpath, the msn convos, the visits to the e-lab (:P :P :P), the summer-quarter afternoons in the DRs...conversations that often tended to revolve around the same person - again and again. And then a few more times. (For the record, just to prove the unfairness of life when you're in Hala's world...I'm still not allowed to even try to hit on him even though she's gone and will be flirting with every good-looking gora she sees. Also, again for the record, I won't say a lot more that I feel like 'cause you never, never know who just might someday visit my blog and read more into the lines that I'd be safe with...Hala kee tu khair hai, but meri achi bhali izzat khaak mein mil jaye gee..hehe.) The teasing, the matchmaking, the encouragement to look into other options (haha...too many of those to recall, though one in particular I still think is suitable! :P), the half-serious lectures on "hala, ab insaan ban jao..kafi hu gaya hai!", the so-called philosophical discourses on whether 'love at first sight' can truly ever possibly exist, (I'm still not so sure, despite all her theories), trying to convince hala that the light of her life and the love of her life should be the same person, trying to understand why that wasn't/isn't/won't be possible so easily...*sigh* I could rant on and on for quite a while, without making much sense to anyone else. But I do know what I'm talking about :)

Hala, if you read this...two things. First of all, do not dare to leave this page without leaving a comment (and a NICE one, mind you! Yeah surprise surprise, I can be rude too once in a while!). And second of all, I know you're gonna be back ;)

But after all the raving and ranting, after all the jibes and sarcasm, after all the teasing and threatening, there's one thing which, much as I hate to admit, has turned out to be true...

Ever since Hala left, the sun has been shining just that little bit less on lums, the birds' chirping is that little bit less merry, the clouds are that little bit more dreary, the trees have lost that little bit of their swagger...and the whole campus is that little bit less bright and cheerful.

*sigh* I guess you can't have it all in life now...can you?

She thought I didn’t see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes when we were going to ‘purani anarkali’ at three in the night, or the pain in her gaze when she was acting nonchalant in the evening and suggesting that we take a walk outside. All I wanted to do then was throw my arms around her…let her cry if she wanted to, talk about it if she needed to, tell her that I love her if it might mean anything to her, listen to her, comfort her, make her realise that I already understood but I wanted to understand more…anything that would make her feel any less helpless and hurt and angry about everything going on. But I didn’t. I just couldn’t. Not for lack of spontaneity, but of courage. And because of inexplicable embarrassment. I felt awfully revolted at myself, and I regretted it even more – I still do, but it doesn’t change anything because I lost that moment and, with it, the chance to do what might have helped at that point in time. Sometimes it’s humiliating to know your own short-comings so well and, yet, be unable to change yourself…sometimes it’s just sickeningly disgusting to be who you really are…

She never lost her poise at any of those times and she reverted to her cheerful demeanor within minutes, but I’ll never completely forget those vulnerable, naked emotions and the loneliness that I saw that night. Her integrity and strength surprised and impressed me; her fragility and sorrow nearly killed me, but all of it just made me love her more.

I was the last person to hug her at the airport yesterday, and I like to believe that I wouldn’t have cried as well even if they hadn’t left the next instant – I know that’s not true but I won’t admit it :)

I’m going to miss her a lot, I know that, but then I also know that I’ll think back on the last few days less and less as times go by and life picks up its usual pace…

I just hope I can always remember the last few days like I do right now, and I never forget to pray - for myself and for her…

God Bless You!