Mi Familia

Leaving home is bittersweet. Your mom stands in a corner with huge tears in her eyes as if she is sure that she will never see you again. Your younger sister hugs you at the rate of 10 times a minute, some of them being so intense that you are unable to breathe. Your dad is going in and out of the garage hauling your luggage while periodically screaming things like “Car! ASAP!”, “We are late! Let’s move!” “How hard can it be to get yourself in the car?!” etc. etc.
Then he looks at mom while passing her and screams in her ear: “We can cry at the airport, let’s get in the car first” which changes mother’s tears to anger and they start arguing which actually relieves you because it is a good distraction for your mother, at least for the time being.

While all of this is going on, you stand very still in the corner not because you do not want to move but because you know that if you do your little tabby cat who is very lovingly purring around your feet will either get crushed or will make you trip over and fall on your face. I, for one, cannot take either risk. I wonder how she knows that I am leaving.

So the screaming and the sobbing and the hugs and the tears continue while you make your way to the airport. Everyone sees you off like you are going on the voyage to never-land from where your chances of coming back are slim. Yeah, you see, I have a very supportive family.

And any consolation in your part will only be dealt with anger.

“Mom I am just going a couple hundred miles away, Its just a two hour flight. I will be back in December. It’s not like you are not going to see me for years!” I tried while hugging her.

Bakwas nahi ker, saal aich aik dafa kurri shakal dikhandi hai, oh vi bas char din waastey”
(What rubbish! You come once a year and that too for a few days)

“Mom I was here for a month!” I try again.

“Month di sakki, saal aich aik mahina!” she declares.
(what month?! one month in a whole year!)

And the argument goes on….

Let me tell you that I have been away from home for a good four years now and every time it is the same story whenever I go visit them and come back.

Sometimes it bothers me because my family can create a scene and the airport, for one, is not the easiest places to find your way around because neither the people are friendly nor the staff courteous. You can’t do much with your mom sobbing, your dad freaking out and your sister hugging rate and intensity continuously increasing by the minute.

I take a sigh of relief when I pass the security checkpoint and actually leave them behind. After that finding my way to the Gate becomes so much easier.

And then there is the wait at the airport. I sit down and look around as there is not much else to do. I see people with sad faces. I see people frustrated with their lives, kids screaming and moms miserable. I see poor people with shabby clothes on. I see sleep deprived faces. I see crooked faces on classic Armani suits. I see an airport employ, sitting on a floor in the corner and eating straight out of a MacDonald bag — alone. I see a woman on the phone breaking up with her boyfriend (or maybe he was breaking up with her, she was crying). I see disabled people trying to haul their luggage and themselves while no one caring to stop for even a second to give them way. I see someone has lost their bag. I see weary faces and lonely hearts all around me.

When I see strangers like that, I thank God for my family.

Whisper Kisses

~Short Story~ 

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.”

It was one of those usual walks in the park after work. It used to be nice to go to the park before dinner after a long day of work. Just walk and talk. We used to be in this awful (yet awesome!) habit of debating just about anything. We had the interesting habit of dissecting ever issue with reason and logic—starting from the bigger world, bringing it down to individual level and then applying it to our own lives—was our favorite pastime. That night, the topic was romance.

"What the heck is a whisper-kiss, anyway?" I finally asked.

“Oh come on, you can’t be asking me this, you are supposed to be the romantic one here,” he replied.

I really don’t know what a whisper kiss is and it doesn’t sound very intriguing. I like the passionate kisses,” I laughed out loud.

He joined in, “Yeah... THAT I know…”

We both laughed as the memories came back.

“No seriously, I really don’t know,” I insisted again.

He looked at me for a moment before slowly rising up from the park bench where we sat. He positioned himself so as to eclipse the sun on my back, and leaned his head and hovered it an inch from my neck, hanging above my shoulder blades.

Then, carefully, and ever so smoothly he pushed his cheek muscles forward so that they in turn pursed his lips. Gracefully, and ever so softly he grazed my neck, with his pursed lips and planted with great precision the tinniest quiver of a kiss, like the lightest spore wisp of a dandelion that ever did grace a lover's collar.
My cheeks released his lips which fell back to a smirk.

"A whisper-kiss, my dear, is a kiss so softly planted, so perfectly executed, that it can scarcely be called a kiss at all. A kiss so quaint the senses confuse touch with sound,” he said quietly. "And thus the phrase ‘All prayers are whisper-kisses to the sun'."

And I don’t think of kisses the same way anymore.

Life Is Funny (11)

Peer Pressure

Let me say this loud and clear: I have not written this post and I am literally being forced into posting this. Since I am notorious for keeping a record of everyone’s embarrassing and funny moments, it is about time they get back at me.

Just a few days back, I almost killed my left eye by mistakenly putting an acidic solution in it. The result: Terrible pain. The only way doctors found to keep me from screaming was to keep me under strong sedation. They told me the sedatives will ‘knock me out’ but they didn’t quite fully knock me out. Please know that the following incidents never happened in my memory. I have no idea what I said or did for the three days I was supposedly “out”. For all I know, my friends could just be making all this up. :-)

Shows up at Emily's Room, clearly stumbling and looking pathetic
Emily: Raj! are you alright?
Raaji: I'm fine, I just can't see with my eyes.
-in all calmness

"Hi Raaji this is Chris.... I mean hi Chris this is Raaji.... I mean....shit!"
-A message left on Chris’s phone after the first few pills.

Emily: "Raaji, what race are you?"
Raaji: "Muslim........Pakistani? Washingtonian.....Brown? What do you mean? American... I don't get it...wait, Asian
-Identity Crisis

Raaji: What's in my drink?
Jenn: It's a cherry.
Raaji: No, I think it's a bouncy ball! Oh, it is a cherry. Who likes cherries?
Jenn: Emily does.
Raaji: Here Em’, have a bouncy ball.
-Friends brought some sort of a tropical drink to cheer me up.


*on the phone: calls Emily
Raaji: (almost screaming) Emilllllyyyyy!
Emily: Hey, my dear how are you feeling?
Raaji: Guess what? I am dieing. *laughs*
Emily: You should go to sleep now
Raaji: no, i m tired of sleeping
Emily: you need to, u will feel better
Raajii: Hellooooo! Who is this?
Emily: *whispers* oh dear! This is me Emily Raaji
Raajii: Oh Emily! How are you emilyyy?!
-totally out-of-it

Raji: Why am I like this? Is everything always this weird? What's going on?
Emily: You took Medicine... remember?
Raaji: Oh thank God! I thought this was permanent.
-On forgetting what you started

- I'm not tense, just terribly, terribly alert!
-sitting on the bed, trying to see the world around her

Yes, I am the laughing stock of my wonderful friends these days and this is their attempt to extend the laughter. I, for one, have learned my lesson: either don’t take sedatives or don’t let anyone get near you!

You Drive Me Crazy

Having just gotten back from a road trip, a wonderful 300-mile drive to see old friends, I got a heaping helping of one of my friends (who shall remain nameless) and his driving expertise. Regardless of who was behind the wheel, he was clearly the expert, and he taught me some things about driving safely.

Several hundred spooky miles later, I am back in the safety of my comfy room and writing this blog. Since this particular subject is one that I am certain some of you have also dealt with, I would share some nuggets of insane driving wisdom that my friend shared with me. Some are observations of my own, while others are directly from him though I am not sure that really matters while doing 90 down the highway.

-- Stop signs, stop lights, yield signs, traffic lights, and speed limits are merely suggestions. My friend can smell a yellow light coming miles before he actually gets to it. He has no qualms about hitting the gas and speeds to get through it if it will save us twelve seconds. Yielding is a personal challenge to him. If he comes to a yield sign and sees someone coming, that means to step on it, and let them follow the yield sign instructions.

-- Speed limits are the minimum. If the sign says 70, this actually means that it is acceptable to go 90. If it is raining, snowing, or you are passing through the eye of a hurricane, then he feels that you should stay at the speed on the sign. When questioned about his logic on this, he simply said that if I am not quiet, he would pull over and let me drive instead. He did not mean that because I tried.

-- Merge means to get the hell out of his way. No explanation needed.

-- Unexpected car problems are always my fault. Blew a tire? My fault. Blown head gasket? My fault. Stroke from the argument? My fault.

-- Turning into a curve means everything in the car will fly to the other side. He turns and hits the gas. Everything on the dash ends up in the floor and we pick it all up once again. (Repeat after every turn)

We are planning another trip in October....... I think I am going to invest in a helmet.
:-)

Looking Back: Flashes In Time

-A long flight. Good ol’ comforting room. Cool Breeze.
-Quick Handshakes. Hellos. Countless Faces. Orange and Blue.
-Cristina Birthday. Game Night.
-SASA Annual Dinner. Dancing. Food. Bright Colors.
-A Long Distance Love. Heartbreak
-2 hrs 94 min. Central Philly. Rocky Balboa. Cheesecake Factory. Dostana Zindabad!
-Banquet. Gifts. Champagne. Celebrations.
-Raj & Anjali. Bollywood Nights. Cinderella Story.
-Photography. Getting Published. Passions revisited.
-United States Senate Internship
-Warm Hugs. Gentle Kisses. Holding Hands. Dancing.
-How I Met Your Mother & Big Bang Theory. Emily and I. Endless hours.
-Confusions. Too Much Drama. Broken Friendships.
-Beautiful. Sugar!
-Surprises. Dancing. Best Friends. A 21st birthday that lasted for 4 days.
-House Party Weekend. Emily. Julia. Katie. Craziness
-Blinding myself. Thanking God.
-An absolutely beautiful face. Keeps coming back.
- Hurried Goodbyes. Warm Hugs. Promises. Anticipation of Meeting Again.
-Brown Eyes. Hope.

I am Stu-DYING

The weather here in this small town has been gorgeous lately. Unfortunately, it's also exams time, which means everybody's holed up in their rooms or in one of those weird cubicle things they have in the library, straining their eyes and overdosing on coffee.

Anxiety is on the rise as we the week grows. I have noticed that on average, about 10% of studying time is devoted to actual studying, in the sense of reading, memorizing facts, highlighting passages from the textbook so you won't be able to sell it after the exam, etc. The other 90% of "study" time is spent calculating to an appalling number of significant digits the absolute lowest grade you could possibly get on the final and still pass the class. They say kids today are bad at math but I've seen philosophy majors put together complex formulas that would stump Will Hunting. (Not surprisingly, they still wind up failing the class. Maybe if they had spent a little more time studying philosophy...)
And then, there's always that one person who pretends she's going to do terrible on the test. You know, the incredibly smart one who is intelligent enough to realize she's been dubbed "the intellect" but still insists she didn't study for the test at all. These people are easily identifiable because they're the only ones not going into a blind panic two minutes after the exams are passed out.

It's great when professors give you a study guide for your final. Any kind of guide available is appreciated greatly, but then there are the professors who hand you a study guide that's three pages long and covers everything that's ever been mentioned the entire term. Like the list of identifications total 50, but only five of them will be on the actual exam. Thanks for narrowing it down for us lady, next time save the paper and just hand us a sheet that says "Study Everything You've Learned—Ever."

And what is the deal with these take home finals? Please take the exam that's worth 40% of your grade to an environment where you're surrounded by books, notes, internet, etc. We trust that you're smart enough not to make it super obvious that you cheat.

As for me, I don't believe in panicking. I refuse to lose self-control until I see the dumb kid in the back of the class whip out flash cards five days before the test. At which point it finally hits me that I need to study…now.

So yeah, finals week is upon us in full force, seizing what sanity I have left after a menacing term. The thought of a pure, utopian society has faded while the students have captured the last breath of any rational existence and conquered our self-worth. In coming days it is likely to see a plethora of unpleasant faces staring into an oblivion that can only be experienced by the students. The possibility of survival is a distant notion...God help us all...;-)