Imaginary Stories

As it started to rain, I ran towards the gazebo in the middle of the quiet children's park by the corner of the street. The rain in this strange city doesn't give you much warning. It takes just a few seconds - from the first drop to hit the ground to turning into a full blown thunderstorm. The rain didn't bother me. It was my cell phone I was worried about - it would get wet and I didn't have pockets. I didn't want to take a chance since in this foreign city this phone was my lifeline.

I crossed my arms and leaned on one of the pillars of the gazeebo and watched the rain. It had already wet the swings and the water was flowing down from the slide like it would in a stream.  There was not a soul in sight as far as I could see and no sound but the sound of water flowing and tickling followed by an occasional thunder from up high.

I could picture my lover pulling me by the arm and bringing me into the rain under the sky (I probably wouldn't care about the phone then). I could see my hair wet and dripping. I could see his smile accentuated with many tiny water drops stuck to his curved lips and dripping from his eyebrows.  Knowing him, it wasn't hard to believe that he would pull me closer in the middle of that park surrounded by swings and slides and dance to a tune that only plays in his head.

I could picture snow and myself in my big old red jacket. I could see myself dodging his snow balls hiding behind the very slides we were dancing by. I could see him grinning and calling out my name. I could almost hear my laughter.

I could easily visualize a game of hide and seek. I would hide and he would seek. And when he'd find me, he'd pull me up in his arms such that my face was on his back and legs in the air. I would laugh so hard then.

The rain seemed to fade a little then. I could take a risk to start walking again. A drizzle wouldn't kill my phone, I told myself. As I exited the park trodding slowly, I looked back at the gazebo, the swings and the slide. There was no rain, only wet ground. There was no snow, no woman in a red jacket, no dancing and no lover.

A woman's imagination runs wild.... And imaginary stories don't have anywhere to go. If only the feelings they brought were also imaginary....

Life is Funny (20)

For your entertainment, here are a few conversations with the wonderful people who are a part of my life... :-)

After Lyndsay got 7 tickets for parking in the wrong places,
Shaf: Is your car parked in the right spot?
Lyndsay: I no longer have a car.
Shaf: Well, that is a solution.
---

[looking at book shelf with a lot of textbooks]
Terry: Oh you bastard!
Marvin: : Which one?
Terry: Chemistry.
-in all seriousness
---

Uff Allah...insaan ban jao....ab khelne koodne k din nahi rahe!
-Absar, on graduating and embracing the real world
----

About going to London,
Raaji: It’s not even that far! It’s like 3000 miles. I would drive there if it weren't for the damn ocean!
Marvin: Of course! It is all the ocean's fault. It is at the wrong place.
*Raaji gives Marvin the its-not-funny-look*
Faz: Oh, the things that bother Raaji!
Marvin: The Ocean? Really? You're going to be mad at the ocean now?
-remind me why I am friends with men? 
----

This noble experiment was a miserable disaster
-Criminology Professor, on the cigarette smoking culture
----

Chatting online…
Raaji: Do you need something?
Emily: Please email me a whiskey? This would be a good time.
-on not having good days
----

Om:  What are you up to?
Raaji: I am studying about the Cuban missile crisis and I feel like blowing up my professor's head!
Om: Ok, good. Go Ahead.
Raaji: Go Ahead?
Om: Professor Bachna nahi chahiyee!
----

Raaji: How far away are we?
Emily: Umm...about two inches.
-Looking at a map during a road trip

[For more Funny Quotes, click on the 'Funny Quotes" tab in the menu bar above]

Perspective Please

                                                                                                                                                        .
"That which we manifest is before us" - I read some where, and realized that it all comes down to not just reality in itself but how we perceive that reality - that at the end of it all, we create our own reality. We only find what we look for.

When we set out every morning looking for sadness, we will find it in everything beautiful on our way. If we look for happiness, all the colors would look brighter and all the flowers happier, none lonely. Those who look for God find him, and those who wouldn't want to, would come up with a million reasons to defy His existence, which are meaningless to the believers. Those who love, will be loved - one way or another, they will be. But, again, its a matter of perspective, what we see depends mainly on what we look for. And you will walk right past something incredibly beautiful if you are not looking for it. It is as if you are blind even while keeping your eyes wide open.

Almost everything we see is a perception and not the truth. A dear friend said to me that if we are always arriving and departing, it is also  true that we are eternally anchored. One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.

Pain or perspective, that's the choice.You choose pain - you choose to fight it, deny it, bury it - then yes, the choice is always hard. But you choose perspective - embrace your history, give it credit for the better person it can make you, scars and all - the choice gets easier every time. (Kiss - Ted Decker)

The Starry Nights

Every time there was a power outage at night, we'd climb the roof of our house and lay on the bricked roof watching the stars. We'd count stars and compete for the largest number. Sometimes we'd sit and make shapes out of the stars while he smoked his cigarette and I would cough from time to time from the smoke but remained too busy with the stars to care. Sometimes I'd put my tiny head on his lap, at other times on his shoulder. Some days we'd find a shooting star and my eyes would light up with excitement. Its been a while since I have seen a shooting star now. I have almost forgotten how that feels like.
 
There was a little sort-of-a restaurant around the corner, dhaba, they call it there and late at night, the owner of the place would play old romantic Pakistani songs - sometimes Ghazals, sometimes some Sufia Kalam. It was comforting whenever we could hear the sound of that dim melodious music. Sometimes he would sing along, sometimes he'd listen to it quietly - lost in his own thoughts while I'd wonder what to make of it. At other times we both would try to figure out which song it was or who was the singer. There were days when we would fall asleep on the roof because it was too dark and too hot to go downstairs, and I wouldn't realize when I fell asleep in his arms until the sun rays woke me up the next morning.


But that was before the nightmares worsen. Somehow those were simpler days - before it all turned black. 

 

Sound of Silence

The air is calm. Yet a strange and eerie noise continues to resonate through the surrounding silence. It is much more than the sound of my own heart or breath. It seems too continuous and distorted to be anything but static noise you would generally hear from an un-tuned TV. It does not drown out other sounds that fill the air. The birds continue to sing, the leaves continue to rustle and fall in the dryness and my heart continues to beat. There is nothing else but this strange silence. The still silence continuously reverberate through my mind and heart, maybe those of others too, or has everyone tuned their faculties elsewhere?

 

Just Another Day

Its just another day at the office - just another ordinary day between the files and the phone calls and the occasional word with the co-workers. Its another long walk to the empty room. Its another pizza box that goes into the trash can. As I toss it in, I realize that I can measure my life with empty pizza boxes and unanswered emails. Its another dinner alone and another superficial sitcom.  Its another empty bed and another unsettled night. I am dimming the lights and filling the air with empty songs.

My sleepless eyes are busy dreaming.