FACING ME

As a child, I was a …DISASTER.
I had a terrible stammer. Which made me shy, awkward, pathetic, helpless, weird and scared. My stammer was triggered by these all…but mostly by my nervousness. You actually have this classic 22…my stammer made me nervous and I stammered more when I was nervous. And phobia. I was … aniso-phobic. Scared of everyone and everything. Don’t look up the dictionary…I coined that word right now.

Girls never played with me. Rather I never played with them. I hated dolls. Was scared of them actually. Neither did I like cars. But was better off with them than with dolls.

I don’t have any childhood photographs in frocks. I never had any I guess. It was either t-shirt n jeans or jeans n t-shirt. My hair was always in a boy cut. I was bald most of the time.
My dad took me to a parlor every month and got my head shaven. Thanks to him, because of repeatedly shaving my head off, I have this great quality of hair right now. Its neither too thick, nor too light, straight till below the ears and curled after that. My friends are even envious of it. And it even shines…lol.

Anyways, after some time, boys also started repelling me when I couldn’t unzip my pants right on the road and start peeing with them.

I was isolated. I never spoke much. And there was my stammer. I even stammered in my thoughts and dreams. I spent time either on the computer or playing chess or playing chess on the computer. After some time, I discovered I liked to..and was pretty good at drawing and sketching. And I started reading. One finds so many things to do when there’s nothing else to do.
Even among chess geeks, I was considered untouchable. Stop by at a chess tournament sometime and you’ll know how scary that is.

My dad figured out that I had a lot of POTENTIAL as he said then. And since I was weird, I needed to utilize my plus points. He rushed me through European capitals, scientific inventors and discoveries, a bit of German and Latin, and higher algebra and geometry when I was four.

Dad left after that for a better job for the UAE.

We all live together now, but its never been the same between him and me. I worshipped him till I was four. At that fragile age, I interpreted his leave as betrayal. Now of course I know that’s not so. But as said...its never been the same.

Mom was another story.
The principal.
Strict.
Very strict.
When the current supply went off, and all the kids ran out to play, I sat with the candles and books.
I had to go to school in the hot sun every morning with the driver. It was considered as a good exercise.
My day ended strictly at ten in the night. But for me it only started. I never slept of course. I discovered this new, awesome world where everything happened as u wished. IMAGINATION. And the night sky proved to be the best possible background. That accounts for my love for black. I stared the nights out at the window and I was even beginning to feel happy. Actually I never felt bad before. Because I never knew how to feel good maybe…

All this accounts for my into-extro-vertish character. My so confused self. I thought a lot before publishing this on the blog. But then I guess…you all have the right to know me…without exaggerations. And it satisfies the objective of writing this. Its useless running away from the truth. Well…4get all that and read on, will you…

Mom saw me awake several times. I saw her from the corner of my eyes but wouldn’t move my head, as I was scared.
I think she seriously started worrying about me.
For after a few days, she took me to this expensive parlor and got a hair tonic that made your hair grow fast. And she let me grow my hair longer after that. I had a crash course – many to be honest – in speech therapy. She outfitted me at the gap.
Mom started being less strict and friendlier. She even told me about her day at work and asked about mine at school.
But the clay was already shaped. I remained alone. Absent. And scared.
We are good friends now. I even tell few of my secrets to mom. And she tells me almost all of them…at least that’s what I think…

We shifted towns. Thank the Lord for that.
The new people at the new school never saw me with my short hair and stammer.
It felt like being just born at nine.
I started from scratch.

My personality right now is manufactured by me. But most of my physical features, I owe dad for.
My hair as said before, my shining, white, even perfect orthodonture, my heart shaped face and my tan (some people do not think its great… but I love my tan…I look like a Xerox copy of my dad) for the plus points, and my short and petite stature for the minus ones.

I am fine now.
Even good.
According to many people.
I look pretty much… well…totally like a girl.
I am even considered cute and pretty at times.
My eyes and hair are commented and complemented on.
I am outgoing, smart, friendly, intelligent, helpful and even fun.
People actually laugh at my jokes.
There are people who are even envious of me.
I’d show you my slam book if I could…you would gape at it after reading about my past.
I know how to dress. I’m even a fashion freak at times.
I am a good public speaker… WITHOUT A STAMMER.
And even so, I’m still good at painting, chess and literature.

I masquerade as one of the blessed.
One of the normal, effortless joiners who believe, without thinking deeply about it, that the world is for people like us. It’s a lie of course. A few of my friends have witnessed my state when I go back to where I belong. And its hideous, without exaggeration. I come from the other side. I know how its like over there.

There are still vestiges of…dorkdom (is that the right word…dorkessdom maybe?…)
In me. Look at my use of the word vestiges for instance. They keep popping up all the time. They keep reminding me… if I were born in another century…say pre-history, before the times of hairstyles and speech therapies, I would be the dorkiest cavegirl who ever lived. And the person I was probably meant to be.

THE SAME OLD STORY...

It’s the same, old, tired sun
Crawling up the horizon again…
It’s the same you and me,
Running past emotions again…

It’s the same, old, hectic, tiring,
Spine-stressing day again…
Only around hundred more kids
May learn never to smile again…

Someone out there, helplessly
Running away from the thundering rain…
Some other one out there, silently
Crying in immense, merciless pain…

Someone patting his shoulders
Smiling at his bill of gain…
Somewhere nearby, another life,
In hunger and thirst, gone down the drain…

That old guy there, hobbling along,
Cannot do without his cane…
Someone out there, with all his life
Awaiting the moon to wane…

The fanatic crowd, crashing down
On a dead kid, beside a paper plane…
His enormous trials, to fly away
All crumpled, gone in vain…

Do they ever sit and wonder..
What the hell is the loss and gain…

Bullshit…
We don’t have time…
It’s the same, old, tired sun
Crawling up the horizon again…

TANHA

DEKHIYE TOH LAGTA HAI
ZINDGI KI RAAHO ME...
EK BHEED CHALTI HAI...
SOCHIYE TO LAGTA HAI
BHEED ME HAI SAB TANHA...

JITNE BHI YE RISHTE HAI...
KAANCH KE KHILONE HAI
PAL ME TOOT SAKTE HAI...
EK PAL ME HO JAAYE,
JAANE KOI KAB TANHA...

DIL ME LOG AATE HAI...
KHAALI KAR CHALE JATE HAI...
TANHAAI KE MELE ME...
HUM DIVAANE ROTE HAI
HOKE PAL PAL TANHA...

THE SOLITARY REAPER

WHEN WILL YOU COME HOME?

He came into this world
Just the other day...
He brought so much of happiness
And all were gay...
But there were flights to catch
And bills to pay...
He learnt to walk
While I was away...
And before i knew,
He started talking...
"When will you come home, Dad?"
"I don't know when..."
"Its okay" he smiled, "we'll have a good time then."
He smiled and said, "I'm gonna be just like him, you know."

My son turned ten
Just the other day...
And he scored high
In academics and play...
"Thanks for the ball, Dad
Come, let's play..."
"Not now.....
I have work at hand.."
He smiled, nodded
And waved a hand
"When will you come home, Dad?"
"I don't know when..."
"Its okay. We'll have a good time then."
He smiled and said, "I'm gonna be just like him, you know."

He returned from college
Just the other day...
"Will you sit for sometime?"
I smile and say...
"Would love to Dad, but what i really would want are the car keys...
Gotto go...can I have them please?"
"When will you come home son?"
"I don't know when...but we'll have a good time then..."

My son's married and lives
With his family, somewhere far away...
He's busy and he's great
And the family's happy and gay...
"Will you come over, dear?"
"Would love to dad...
But my new job's a hustle
And the kids have flu...
But it was sure nice talking to you
Dad, it was sure nice talking to you..."
I hung up and realized...
He'd turn out to be just like me...
My son was
Just like me.

DREAMS

Sometimes, I dream I’m flying. Not like those cheap coca cola commercial ads. No. I’m really flying…uhm..well..almost.

I have this feeling of excitement and anticipation as I accelerate, gaining intense, powerful speed.

Fast, fast, faster. I feel sure I’ve passed that speed you need to leave the ground.
I’m zooming past bustling outdoor cafes, overpriced little restaurants, all night delis, my favorite subterranean record shop, the parks, empty grounds, houses, fields and forests…
I’m zooming past all of it…

I can feel the cool breeze caressing my cheeks and struggling with my hair.
I’m steaming along, straight and steady.
I’m on the highway. It curves again. Now, I see signboards reading ‘Deer crossing’ and ‘Left curve’…all those you know…
It was taking too long.
I was losing patience.
Bullshit.
Why wasn’t I already above the ground?

After a while, it’s a foregone conclusion that I won’t be flying at all.
Just a plain fact.
Like so many others we learn to live with.
I sigh as the mirror reflects back the pathetic image of a helpless teenager on a wheelchair.

DRIZZLE, RAIN AND FLOOD

I was surprised. Not alarmed, but a little surprised. Amazed if you want to put it that way…
I didn’t expect this.
We had progressed in no time, to mid game, and I, had achieved almost no advantage.
The wind was blowing in sooted clouds and thunder threatened the air. And I was looking at the possibility of a complicated end game.
He wasn’t the doofus I’d imagined. I had to admit. I didn’t think it possible to have perfect orthodontics and a good haircut and also be great at chess, but then…I was only 17…some things in life must be left worth learning…
His manner had changed. His concentration on the game was so full that he let out these tiny, almost inaudible sounds every so often.
His hair had fallen on his forehead and I could not make head or tail of the expressions in his eyes.
I commanded mine own ones back to the board. They were not being cooperative today.
A fat, cold, heavy raindrop landed on my scalp.
Damn. Why couldn’t I just finish this up?

Tiny drops of sweat were collecting in his hairline, bleeding into raindrops slapping in his head. Drops dribbled down his neck…
“Look at the game, you moron.” I ordered my self silently.
I used my king’s bishop.
He closed his eyes. His face read disgust.
He defended with a knight.
His style was unorthodox. The problem was, he was not just good, but very, very, very, very good.
Raindrops stood on his bare arms and his t-shirt…
He snapped his rook into the center of action
Okay, better not to look anymore.

Yes. As I had feared. Alarming. Officially alarming.
How had I misjudged him so badly?
And my eyes. Oh no. they were roaming over his face again.
Hell.
He was older than me. Maybe twenty. Not much possibly. He had to be an international player. I was not on the circuit, but at least could tell an extraordinary player from a good one.
The skin around his fingernails was ragged from being picked at too much.
Tiny veins zigzagged under the surface of transparent skin above his wrist.
Oh God!
I suddenly had this powerful urge to touch the pale skin.
Bullshit. I almost shouted out loud.
Get ahold of yourself, girl.
Was I profoundly low on sleep, maybe? When had I eaten last?
Maybe it was the barometer? The electricity in the air?
Why was I behaving like a complete moron?

I forced my eyes to the board. I felt dizzy. And disoriented.
The crowd of pieces left on the board had gone from a thrilling, complex and significant battle in one second to a meaningless jumble, the next.
Rain blanketed the surroundings. Steam rose from the nearby pavement.
He was looking at me. Not impatiently, asking for the next move, but looking. Seeing actually.
Rain stood on his lashes like diamonds and rivers flowed down his cheeks.
Hell.
And why did I look at him then?
Oh my Godddddddd…
I couldn’t look away…
I felt something grab my chest.
What was it?
I gave a damn…
I felled my king with a flick of my index finger.
“I’m sorry…I have to go..” I murmured, stood up, fumbled with the wet leather, extracted a note of twenty and pushed it into his palm.
It fluttered down.
And none of us bent to pick it up.
“No..wait…”
I started to run. Run idiot, run. Faster.
“Please…wait…” he stammered.
Mad or what?…Wait? And then? Self destruction…you mean suicide?
I ran faster. The water in my sneakers squished around my toes.
I ran endlessly, from him and from the strange perception that a million frozen feelings were about to thaw….and flood would surely drown me in.

"LUV, HAPPY EID"

I had just finished locking my hair up in an elastic rubber band, when the phone rang.
My beloved black Nokia 3230.
How I love it.
It had been with me through so much…pain and smiles…good times and bad ones…
I sighed, smiled and answered the call.
“Eid mubarak Basanti! Kaisi hai?” my friend Sana.
“Abey Basanti ki dhanno…Eid mubarak to you too.”
“Kya planning hai? Anything special?”
“Don’t think so…wohi ghisi piti family gatherings I guess…got to ask mum. Kyun pooch rahi hai?
“Party hai. Only kids. Aaja yaar.”
“Wow. Kaha?”
“Conti school ke bacche, Paki school ke bacche, Bong school, Philip school…”
“Maine poochha kahaa idio?”
“Dorrah”
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?????”
“Yup babes.”
“Hola! Count me in….nahi ruk..mum se kehkar confirm kar leti hoon.”
“You mean..kehne wali hai…not poochhne wali..ryt?”
“Absolutely.”
“Poochhke bata dena.”
“Done. Thanks honey. I got to go for shopping. See ya.”

That was teriffic. A party at Dorrah. Wo…
Everything was perfect today.
The new moon smiled back at me as I smiled at it. The stars twinkled and I could even hear their soft dazzling laughter. A cool and self satisfied breeze rushed past me, teasingly spoiling my hair style. I gave a damn.
Mom was easy. Dad wasn’t mad. Asif wasn’t irritating. Life was hell.
The earth and the heavens were in a festive mood.
And I of course, had to take full advantage of the situation.

As I said…Mom was easy.
No hassles.
Called up Sana and confirmed my presence at the party and ran off to do my shopping.
I strolled along the walk happily.
“Eeekzkioos me mum…”
I swiveled around at the soft, African accent.
“Yeah. Wha..” I couldn’t finish.
The smooth, enchanted olive face.
The flickering brown eyes.
The ever so numerous plaits dangling from the oval head.
The ragged, faded jeans and the torn, dirty t-shirt.
The gold colored nose ring.
The only one shoe…cheap, red and blue, with almost black dirty lace.
The dusty crutches.
I raised my eyes up again.
And her brown ones spilled into mine.

I gathered myself back before I lost track again in her enchanting appearance.
“Yes…” my half smile. Flirt smile…Asif says.
“A kooin mum…a kooin…for ze me. Ze phooer phooer me…iv you kaan sphayea…”
“Only a coin?…and what do you plan to do with that my lady?”
“Oh…ma iinglees theaasha tell…vun droop maayek a seaa. Aand how mash kaan I aask…”
“Where’s your family?”
“Ma fameeli? hah...” a sarcastic laughter.
I waited patiently.
“Gone…Wallahi…” she stretched her arms out heavenwards and I could see the lost look in her eyes, shaded with experience.
“Where to?” I asked softly and felt like slapping myself the immediate moment.
I started walking slowly.
I noticed, conversation made her walk with me, unconsciously.
And because I walked slowly, she found no hassles to move with her crutches.
“I not know wheer Baba gone. No see Baba eva. Maama … oh…they kill Maama. They kill her I say. They kill…” she shook her head vehemently.
“Who did?”
“Ze mean I working for ze men. They tell me Maama gone out and not cum baak. But I know…they kill her.”
“And when was that?”
“Faayeef yeerz. befoe.”
I removed a strand of hair from my face.
“Aand Baseem. Ma swweeet Baseem…they send him sumwheer. They say he work theya aand he happy. I not know.”
“Then where do you live?”
“With ma friendz…”
“Friends? From where?”
“They only. Like me. Beggin.”

I felt like some one slapped me right on my face.
This pretty girl, of around my age, was begging on Eid for survival and I here, was dancing my way to the market for buying ear rings.
Lines from the Holy Quran floated through my mind… “ …and o men and women of pious character! Offer your prayers and give your due charity to the poor, so that they may enjoy as you do…and all are equal in the eyes of the Lord. The Most Beneficient, the Most Merciful….”
How great God was…
Something clutched near my shirt pocket.
I felt like crying. What the hell…
“Umm…how much do you want?” I asked, not looking at her eyes, feeling abashed.
“As less as you kaan mum.”
I stared at her…
She answered me, reading my expression.
“Hah. You talk to me. I like you. I not want you geeve maanee to thievez. You geeve me maanee. They thievez take from me.”
“What if I give it to you? Don’t give them your money…” I suggested.
“Hah. They seearsh ma body everyday. They cut ma istomach iv maanee in daat.” She ended with a heinous laugh.
My blood was boiling.
“And what if you didn’t go back?” I was not going to give up.
“I not haav playec to sleep. And they kill me iv they see me again.” She smiled confidently…like telling me… “what do you knoe?”
Horror struck, my mind felt weak.
I knew what the phrase “Humanity bleeds” meant.
I made up my mind. I was going to give this girl something on Eid which those ass holes could not take away from her.
“And when do you have to go back?”
“Tomorrow moornin..today iiz Eid…”
“And what will you do the whole night”
“Beg!..Whaat else…” her eyes wondered with her face expression. “…beesness hi today.” She answered easily.
“No.” I replied coldly.
She questioned me with her look.
“How much do you think you’ll get if you beg the whole night?”
“About feevtee riyaalz…”
I took 50 bucks from my wallet and pushed the note into her bag.
“Wha?..”
Shocked, she stared at me.
“You don’t have to beg tonight. You are coming with me.”
“Wheer mum? Mum want me to work at home? I kaan not. I not have leg.…”
“Oh no. You are coming with me to the party.”
“Paarteee?”
“Yupz babes.”
“I..noooooo…mum…how me…” she stammered lightly.
I took her hands in mine and forced my eyes into hers.
“Look here. My heart goes out to you. I’d kill those bastards if I could. But I can’t. I can’t give you anything as they take it all. All I can do is give you some good time. Please …will you come?” I pleaded.
“I not know peepal in paartee…no dress..”
“Oh..leave all that to me. Just come. What have you had today?”
“Bread aand waater…like eevery daay..”
“Not necessarily. Come.”
I helped her to the nearby Shawerma stall and ordered two sandwiches and a coke for both of us.

After that, we shopped out my entire pocket. We bought skirts, tops, matching shoes and earrings between the two of us.
We laughed and talked as we walked along.
Some puzzled glances thrown at us….who gives a damn…
“You name…how stupid of me..”
“Mirrium.” She smiled faintly.
“Hey Mirium…Farah here.”
We shook hands and giggled around like kids.
“Faarah…haha..Farah Fawcett…”
Astonished I asked how she knew.
“They haav poster on za wall…”

On the way back, it suddenly occurred to me, I had nothing to tall Mum and Dad. I dialed home with a silent prayer. No one answered the phone. I tried Mum’s cell to confirm. Yes. She was out. And so was everybody else. I sent a flying kiss heavenwards.
Mirium giggled beside me.
We took a cab and rushed back home.

I unplainted her hair, shampooed it and straightened it. She laughed endlessly at the image the mirror gave back. I helped her clean off the dirt from the past week that was sealed on her face and body, dressed her up and myself too. Did it an extra bit….well..it wasn’t Eid everyday.

We checked out after an hour or so, took another cab and ran into the party.
What I fearded, thankfully, did not happen. No one asked about her. No one tried to speak to her except two boys who wanted to call her, but fled as I pierced my eyes at them.
Mirium giggled again.
I think I never heard a voice sweeter and softer.
We enjoyed the food and the fun. We let the music take us wherever it wanted to. We hugged each other thrice and wished us happy Eid. And we laughed endlessly, passing comments on people we didn’t know.

“I’m not gonna let you beg anymore Mirium. I’m gonna talk to my parents and you can stay at home, help Mum n me and study with me.”
Her eyes widened, the universe a dot in front of it.
“No Faarah…nooooooooooo…they kill me. I not know work. Not study. They kill you and your Maama and Baba. Pleeees…Nooooo..”
“Mirium. How are you going to live like that?”
“Oh..i live like that only. Faarah..you veery naaice. I like you veery mush. I see your foto aand your fameeli foto in your baag…I take dat?”
I fought back tears, smiled and handed it to her.
“Your Mama like ma Maama, your baba like ma aand your braather like ma Baseem..”
Steam rose from her lips, tears trickled down her olive face.
“We’ll meet at the market again. Promise?” I forced a smile.
She took my hand in hers and kissed them in stead.
“Water…kaan I dreenk?” her voice only a whisper now.
“Just a sec…I’ll get it.” I ran to get a glass of water, got it and came back where Mirium stood, only, she wasn’t there anymore.
I stared blankly at the spot where she stood a few minutes ago.
I dashed to the cloak room.
Yes. Exactly as I feared. Her old clothes were gone and the new ones replaced them, clearly, left in a hurry.
She had returned everything else too.
The black skirt, the red top, the red shoe, the ear rings, and the 50 riyal note with it.
When I thought the packet was empty, and was about to toss it aside, something shining caught my sight.
I extracted out the gold colored nose ring and a card with it, which she must have found on the street for it was stamped on and dirty, reading the words “Luv, Happy Eid.”