Sometimes the only therapy you need is being with someone. Not talking about ANYTHING heavy or light. You just need someone to be there. To be there by your side. And you feel content, as if half of the world’s burden that you were feeling on your shoulders the other day, is no more there; vanished *pooof*. Your mind and your heart is at peace. Because words aren’t therapeutic, silence is.
It’s been quite long since I’ve written something. Oh let me tell you I had a couple of really busy weeks.
I’m back with a good news!
I became Khala on 12th of February, 2016. Wali is two months old today, Alhamdulillah!
So, becoming khala is unexplainable, I swear. Everybody asks me, how do you feel about it? Like becoming an Aunt. I’m literally blank. I don’t know how to express feelings. I don’t know if this has to do something with being introvert but.. Feelings are so very, kind of, I dont know but you just can’t show them! They are inside you, in your heart, protected.
I’m always like that one child you see in the park with loads and loads of sweets yet no smile on the face- totally blank. Like, you know, sweets make kids happier but uh..
So you get it? That’s the actual scenerio. People feel really mysterious about people like me. But friend, it’s who we are. All natural. A little melancholic. A little ecstatic. Blend actually.
–So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be: The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Oh leave this confusion! Here comes, Wali Junaid. Khala loves Wali.
This happened in the evening of 16th of October, 2015. It was cloudy, met office had predicated rain and it was in making. Phupho (my father’s sister) came into my room and sat on the bed while I sat beside her with my laptop opened in front of me. She had to check something on internet so she needed laptop and we were searching for that particular thing, googling basically!
Instantly, I smelled soil (the smell of soil we love when it rains), and with that nano second, I turned and joyfully glanced from the wide-opened-window and then from the door (towards the floor). ‘Oh! it must be raining’, I thought, as I turned. There was no rain, not even a single drop of it. The floor was as dry as July-floor.
I didn’t said anything for a second. But the next second, I asked phupho if she’d smelled something? (I didn’t said anything regarding soil-smell, just for confirmation. You know if you ask someone something pointing out the exact thing, they always agree with you, believe me). She said ‘YES! I did. It’s the smell of soil, isn’t it raining? It was predicated, It thought it is.. (she said while looking outside the window).
So we both had the same question in our minds but we remained silent and a bit shocked.
The question was:
From where our nostrils got hit by that smell?
With the next minute, my mother came into my room to call us for evening tea – compulsory in my home, it’s a small gathering every evening. I rushed into the kitchen first and told mother what we just encountered.
‘The minute I came into your room, before that, I was in the kitchen and felt footsteps behind me while I faced the stove pouring tea into the cups. I turned abruptly as if you and phupho came into the kitchen by yourselves but nobody was behind. I walked out to see if your brother or someone else came. But why would anyone run back like that, I thought. But there was no one. Your brother was sleeping, you and phupho were in your room and nobody else was home’.
I said, Oh Okay, I must have been doubted and rushed back. We had tea, after the Maghrib Prayers – a bit late than normal routine (after Asar Prayers), and phupho left and all went to normal.
I don’t know what it was!
But deep down in my heart and in my mind and in my nostrils, I thought it was something! I couldn’t forget ‘the smell’. It kept on clicking in my heart, mind and nostrils obviously for a couple days afterwards. Maybe it was my Grand father’s soul! They say good souls, even after death, come and visit you sometimes with a slight puff of wind and sometimes with sweet soft fragrance hitting your nostrils.
I don’t know if to feel this or talk about this is awkward, weird or unbelievable but it was Friday! A sacred day. Also the day the death angel took Dada G from us. We can’t forget him. I can’t forget him. He was the kind of man everybody wants in their life. He was He and nobody can be like Him.
May his soul Rest In Peace!
Ok so at first I knew nobody (most of the people around me) will watch this movie with me so I didn’t asked anyone.
I just heard people saying – while I remained silent – things like;
‘Are we mad? We’ll watch such a depressing film?’
‘People who are free or have nothing else to do will only watch Manto, not us, we have a lot more to watch obviously!’
‘No! I will never spend my money on this film!’
And much more..
So I just asked a friend whom I knew is the only who will have some interest or love for Manto. And will be the only who’ll watch it with me or even if he has no interest, he’ll still watch because I just asked him to. He’s that kind of friend you know.
Movies like Manto can never be watched with people (all in my percpective) who have no affiliation with the societal problems, issues and utter realities in short. Throughout the movie, they’ll keep on bugging you, reminding you that it’s all your fault and you made them watch it and they’re getting bored and annoyed and want-to-kill-you and things like that. This happened with me when I watched A Beautiful Mind by Ron Howard.
Manto is something that shakes you inside out. It’s a story of Sadat Hasan Manto – 20th century controversial writer who faced charges of obscenity thrice. The actual story runs after intermission of the film.
I kept my left fist clenched afterwards till the end and since I have defensive finger nails (quite long and sharp), they printed out on my palm leaving behind the deep frozen blood because I clenched really tight. Tears coming and going at intervals. Extreme goosepumps all over and heart beating my chest. I could even hear the palpitating heartbeat up in my ears. I don’t know why I felt the way I felt. I just think it’s something that shakes you even if you don’t want to be shaken up. I have no more words to explain it.
Manto is a feeling! It’s a piece of art. And it has shaken Pakistan Cinema, as well as many hearts.
All in all it is a hauntingly moving biopic which brings back Manto to life and will leave you thinking about him and his life for hours if not days.
6th of October, 2015
24th of September, 2015
‘Life had always been hard for me but I never told anyone what my problems were (I can’t even talk about them to myself), which is why everyone else discovered my life as layers and layer of secrets’, She thought. But suddenly realized that she’s here and this moment is so precious to her because she belongs right here. So she vanished all regretful and sentimental thoughts off her mind and..
Standing at the cliff-top, she thought of nothing but eternity. It was eternity for her to feel the way she felt. Both happy and sad. She couldn’t figure out how was it possible to be caught-up by happiness and sadness at the same time.
She cleared her mind again and started feeling the nature. Mountains speaking to her, answering every question she asks (even if they’re lame). Birds smiling at her – the hopeful kind of smile you know. Clouds passing by her with a warm, smooth touch (which is unexplainable now). She closed her eyes and started to breathe really smooth. This time, she experienced the most alluring feel ever. She felt the wind kissing her cheeks by clearing her face off the untangled hair with a soft gentle breeze.
It was ETERNITY!
Believe it or not but it’s not just a story in her head, it’s what actually happened.
All aren’t alike. Everybody is different from somebody. Being different is what makes us. Some people like coffee, some even hate the smell of it. The problem lies when we, humans, don’t understand such a simple fact that we’re all created differently, with a certain divergence. It happened with me a couple of months ago. In the society we’re living, unfortunately, people always want you to be their spoon and fork, but you’re different. You aren’t supposed to be their utensils being used roughly or fanatically. You’re not who you’re sculptured, you have your own shape. Your hope is actual zeal. Never listen to them, you are blessed with the ability to think. Speak-up for yourself because if you won’t, nobody will.
We aren’t who we want to be.
We are what society demands.
We are what our parents choose.
We don’t want to disappoint anyone.
We have a great need to be loved.
So we smother the best in us.
Gradually, the light of our dreams turn into the monsters of our nightmares.
They become things not done, possibilities not lived.
Darkness all around.
She always had tired eyes.
Because of the sleepless nights.
She was a 03:00 – 04:00 am person.
Who loved the darkness and silence.
A mentor once said this to me that if you’re ever sad and your life is somehow low ever, make someone happy and you’ll feel it in your heart.
And now with each passing day I am realizing that making someone happy leads to your own happiness, it’s like inner satisfaction. Like you’ve done something really good and valuable to someone and they’re really happy with it.
24th of August, 2015