bulawa

(names removed for protection)

yes i drew it myself. and the blue thingy on it. and that is the color combo for the evening.
and u are all invited in spirit.

gooseybumps. is it real?!

-eeda

long

story short.....
 (old post. do the math eeds)


so. i had a lot of pseudo-intellectual spewings/ soul exposes/ emo rants the likes on pieces of soul paper, back of notebooks, scratched in paper margins, nameless word documents etc that need to be typed...just charting the journey i guess.
this year has been..quite an experience. 22 in 3 days. S and family 'seeing me' in...11 days. umra in  18. last semester of classes in 19. ammi happy with the whole thing since 8 (miraculous 180 much?) numbers and numbers and ..stories.

here we go.

-undated-, between sept-dec 2010, pieces.

I believe that somewhere inside there's a small real eeds waiting to come out (and the fact she hasn't yet makes me sad all the time) ....(coincidentally tying in with the 'protect ur inner little girl talk with prof')
hang on little girl.

no more mr.nice guy girl.

You make me Me when I is not I.

-identity moratorium-

is it why i'm willing to majorly compromise myself in exchange for a chance to be myself unabashedly?
(strong willing nutty artistic empowered loving obedient child of the earth)

unabashedly myself. only on paper
on a newsstand near you. 99c a copy.

(nasty) hopeful idealism 

(unreal) healing romanticism

 believe in what nourishes the soul, and not the toxic words of bitter old people. i am still young, i still want stars to light my eyes, even if they are the cheap plastic made in China rip-off kind from the dollar store.

hope, the thing.... (mujhay bachana)

jagmati hui chandni raat hai. raat hai yeh, sitaron ki baraat hai

why is it always so dark on the inside? (except for when you tell me                                       

eeda, no more,                                                                                                                                  

i promise you) 

to believe or not to believe, that is

i tried the world 

it wears no more

the coloring of

romance, it wore.

its raining its raining says she. its raining but inside me.

is it idealism that causes the darkness? the quest for utopic perfection and subsequent .... reality check?         

maybe that's what the bitter old people mean...dollar store starry lights tend to have short fuses.

short lives.

jagmati hui raat yeh, lab per hai shikayatein

-undated 2- summer 2010?

how do i turn shoulders to silkwings and fly?

when my feet are still buried in your crumbling earth...

corners, consoling, condolence

-undated 3-

back from personal jihad. still continuing

my mind has tainted shut of shock

stress 

of reality not seamlessly

interweaving

with sore existence.

July 28th 2010,

'i will talk to you about it later'

when dad? brute force or words of kindness. what will it be about?

you are everything they are not, and that is perhaps why i love you. 

'there is no need'

of course there is need. do not continue to silence voices that need to speak, words you need to hear.

avoidance is Not a solution. 

July 29th 2010.

-stolen-

apnay bhi pesh aen hum se ajnabi, waqt ki sazishen 

koi samjha nahee.

be irada kuch khataein hum se ho gaee.

ankhen....doobi doobi si surmayee madham...

khwab ke bojh se, kapkapati hui. halki palkein teri, yaad atta hai sab.

what if it's just the chase? taking its toll that i'm leaving without you...


reminiscing.....

more trips to the shrink-y. gttakeepsane gttakeepsane gttakeepsane till i get out of here.
S coming this weekend to get the legal license for marriage.
yes. i know. i dont know.

-eeda

there are...

abysses in rainbows, and loopholes in fairy tales.

i always tend to evade the over-dramatic, atleast in my own count, but it follows me like a bad ghost habit. one cultivated from long years of avoidance, playing chase.

words. i used to feel powerful in this own revelation that i could mold them around my wrist like a poisonous snake aching to taste the sour skin surface but holding out of sheer terror.
those same words are terrorizing me now.

I downplayed a lot of things, that I've been feeling guilty about.

I thought that talking to u on Skype was not right.

I thought that talking to u when everyone is feeling awkward is not right.

I thought that caring for u was not right.

I thought that loving u for the person u r was not right.

But all of the above is right if my actions towards u were not of intimacy.

  

At what unturned stone will u mark boundary and say, nay, i have not yet crossed the realm of intimacy to claim you as mine, we are still safe as strangers, woven as friends and perhaps,..
perhaps no more. i may be the phoenix that sears into your heart, can read smoldering looks hastily turned away embedded in anger,i  can read whatever i find reflected in the red pools within your soul..this mirage tells me stories and i say, i love you for all the myriad dreams i dream, and never once of touch, never once of anything beyond the intimate. 
a-quivering i beg to remain with you, without you. 


but how do i begin to forgive? 
why are you still the only one who walks through the fire to ask? why ask.

sometimes, you are more stressful to me than work

sometimes, i paint pathways in the greyblue sky and dot them with silver. 
open and close. not surprise, resignation, and defeat. inevitability.

what have i become?

 i reach out and you lock all the darkness back within me, can we talk of something else?

open and close. yes, what would you like to talk about? 

i see my painted stars drifting, drifting drifting into chaos. 

dulhan se ziada dulhan ki maa..

mere dil se ziada mein... mein kuch nahee. ji ji ji. 

i will paint this summer in strokes of utter, vivid Red..

the golden is irritating me beyond depths i can fathom.

so u noticed?

IBKMB: hey.

eeda: hey

IBKMB: how r u?

eeda: im ok

eeda: =) 

IBKMB: sure?

eeda: yeh

IBKMB:u don't look it.

eeda: ill get there

IBKMB:u r getting worse.

eeda: i need time.

eeda: its not u. its everything else too.

IBKMB:don't lie.

eeda: i would never lie to u. i never have

IBKMB:not even to make me feel better?

eeda: i said im ok.

IBKMB: ok.  I'm just saying that I'll be grateful if u don't lie even to make me feel better.
IBKMB: thankful

eeda: im ok. composed as best as i can be. and its not u, its evrything else too. thats the honest truth.

IBKMB:need venting? 
IBKMB:please do. 

IBKMB: I'll feel better too.

eeda: no. no venting. 
IBKMB: y?

eeda: u cannot vent sadness. u can vent anger

IBKMB: but u can vent the reasons.

IBKMB: u've done that in the past.
eeda: no.

eeda: im tired. let it be.

eeda: it will go 
IBKMB: something is diff.

eeda: this is me when ive had too much.
IBKMB: I know but this is where u vent. 
IBKMB: more the reason to.

eeda: this is where i shut off.

IBKMB: don't, we need u on.
IBKMB: please.

eeda: =)
IBKMB: please say something.

IBKMB:anything.

eeda: i need time. and quiet.

eeda: and myself.

i know i did.

-heh- just re-read that convo. so dramafulawkwardfunnysilly. its going to make me laugh for a longgg time.

time for me to finish this long-overdue paper.

-eeda

kash ke

i could say jo mere andar ho raha hai.


God has a funny way of testing people; but sometimes i feel i've been hand-picked as a favorite. i discovered about M's personality disorder last weekend, and suddenly so much in my life made sense. like all the candles in the room lighting up at once, a scene out of a romance movie this was not, but neither was it abject horror. it was the well-crafted explanation you keep buried in your heart come true to life, and the resulting relief and at once, fear....was crippling..liberating...
the ultimate testament from other ''victims'' they call it echoing in my throat..i am sane.. i have NOT lost my mind. or have i? close to it.
i may need years of therapy to cope, i don't know. years to wipe clear the stains and stumps in a broken heart.
the incidents haven't stopped, just started making more sense. as they enter the realm of my new relationships, i feel withered, defeated, even here. the agony lashes out at her, telling her that at least, let this space be mine own.
they don't understand why i would disengage one i so love; i do not want them to burn in the pride as i have, make me feel the worthlessness that i have become.

and then happened the incident of yesterday. another gross violation of body, privacy, self.... this time again, someone so dear. the distance of it made me temporarily apathetic to what had happened. but S's reaction and utter fury made me realize the depth of what had occured. i cannot face him anymore, living in this same house as me, and i question motives objectives and sincerity behind 'you're doing well'. how naive of me. was it pure brotherhood or?
i cannot bear to think the thought and yet it races through my  mind and in fact, all over my sullen face, giving me a permanent blush...an insane fever burning across my cheeks. i refuse to be the victim but being in his presence after the encounter yesterday seems impossibly hard; like two guilty victims we stare at our toes, phones, knuckles blanched in shame.

what do u do when you lose something so dear to you you built so tentatively? i have learnt that the male ego can never be pure like mine, or am i questioning a friendship where we had promised no questions left unanswered? now a hundred questions bubble in my mind and i cannot think, resounding again with the same persistent 'why' i had and still want to ask my khalu, over and over again.

what is it about me that leads to this i wonder? i am trying to evade the self-guilt but it is impossible in a situation like this, person like me. i float away with agony, crumpled lotus flower form on a grey waterbed....wondering when it will end.

the shrink is is needed again perhaps, the anguish too much for the little frame to contain, the fever flashing across face, mind, heart is crippling my thinking. just an intense sorrow i contain behind a tight lipped facade, smiling only when the tide subsides, retreating in myself otherwise..

save me ya Allah, no more. please no more.
-eeda

can i

have my old S back now?
i miss him, and i'm hating this awkwardness and these fights.

he used to be able to see right through my child-heart and see the pain and the anger and the hurt and the nostalgia.
i don't like his blindfolds, can he not see how much i've been missing him?!

can someone tell him please.


-eeda

he was always bemused to see
the calm oyster shrivel
in the face of the slightest purple
sunset.
and he always wondered how the dark inside
could be more comforting than the paler
blackness of the skies.

said the oyster to her bemused audience
the dark inside may be more frightening, but it and me are
well-acquainted, closest friends
these past few years.
the vast expanse of the sky is yet an unexplored
stranger, and fear
shuts all my doors,
even the ones through which the light may come.

sepia pearls are born, not out of beauty,
but out of the coal black fear.

done deal!

i am now
OFFICALLY
on the fast track to becoming Mrs.Ali
MashAllah!

OMG OMG OMG
OMG OMG OMG

still waiting for it to sink in!!

more details later

-eeda

the call has come, therye on their way.
clothes hair nails in check, smile plastered on and heart a-flutter, flowers and gifts ready at hand.
what is this awkward state of affairs?the whole family sits breaths indrawn, waiting, ticking clocks and hands,
careful not to cease the perfectly ironed shirts, the polished shoes.
mom fiddles around in the kitchen, keeping me out of sight lest she bursts into tears again, sobbing on my shoulder telling me she
doesnt know how she will live without me.
patchy start; late arrival in toronto, bad weather, guests and a new city lead to delay.. my dad is upset, being a man of word and time (barely) except when it counts. this counts. i bite my lip praying for them to hurry, and hoping to delay this time as logn as a ican before i will have to face them.
the sky is a perfect blue,having won over last nights torrential rains..the yellow sun bathes the city centre in a golden glow outside my window..im typing restlessly to take my mind off the yawning pit in my stomach, the jittery fingers, the constrained breath.
such a clash of two worlds i fought so long and hard to segregate into two separate entities..fire and ice coagulate into a ball of frozen tar with a soft cherry pink cottoncandy inside. my dad calls it a rock-solid foundation for the relationship to come.  i cannot believe it is happening, in the Here, Now, Present.
i need to breatheeeeeeeee breatheeeeeeeeeeeeee breatheeeeeee... loved ones message consolations and hope. i hold onto them like flimsy scraps of paper..

going to go and pray now, need some divine moral support on this one... counting down seconds...

-eeda

fate

and just me now...

convo with S while theyre driving up here...

sleepy coconut jaan.

and this was interesting...not that i terribly believe in it.

 

so. lets see what this good news is? and skip the fact it says irfan...longgggg story -_-

-eeda

.

Meet The F

amilies.

not fockers. the siddiquis and the ali's. tomorow. at my place
H-OMG.

i still can't believe it. too good to be true? it's true. does that mean its not good?
did Cinderella's feet really fit that shoe? Was the apple really poisoned?
What happens to those princesses AFTER they get married anyways? how come theres no princess story about marital problems?
blind-sided fools.

i'm oh-so-nervous. there's no butterflies, its elephants in the stomach..and the heart...and intestines. and in that general direction..and... in tu-tu's. i can't sit still. i'm jittery. anxious. excited. nervous. hopeful. questioning. yearning. snappy. blissful. pale. quivering. blushing. defensive... i dont know.

in 24 hours, it will be over. in 24 hours, i will know.

ya Allah, madad.

-eeda

4 to 22.

haey. eeda buddhi.

i was a girl, except

when they removed my ability to move, disapp

roved my right to excuse myself

from discomfort.

i was a girl, except

i was silenced, licensed

to be doormat, eternally, not

speak for my sanity.

i was a girl, except

they disrobed me of my human essence, vul

nerable in their presence, na

ked and shivering, ash

 amed, at their mercy, a-quivering.

i was a girl, except

now, i am a woman.

without choice, without consent,

enforced role, profuse grief

no room to breathe.

-up and down it goes, where it stops,

ain't nobody knows.

question: would you continue to fight for yourself, basic rights nothing too exorbitant, even if your fire burnt everything around you, everything you touched?

if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything.

i'm suspended in the middle. 

-eeda.

the taught us in class today that research proves writing to be a therapy, healing.

i got a hug from the professor at the end of class. a mternal, tender, hold-you-close and caress-the-back-of-your-head and tell-you-it-will-be-okay kinda hug. much needed. maybe one day i will send her this, and she will read it

and if one day you read it Dr.Sabrina; i want you to know that that hug was the most profoundly tender and heart-warming experience i've had in a little while. thank you  so much for being beyond a professor; but a lifeguard to me? there are miracles in strangers who remind you that you are not only strong, you are great..and that greatness shines out through for others to see..thank you for being that 'other' person who reminded me to have faith in that greatness..for having faith in me for one day changing the world..


a little faith goes a long way with the little child inside, begging for justice, hope and above all, love.

things have been busy on the personal front; arrangements for the upcoming engagement , sometime next month his family is coming over to 'see me' cement the deal ,maybe slip a  ring or atleast leave with a date to do so..ammi still hasnt warmed up to the idea of me and him; any talk of him meets her stone-cold blank face and likely no response.

it is beginning to overwhelm me too.picking out the color of bathroom tiles in his basement, i am overcome with  homesickness while still cosy in my room..the thought of moving away, leaving, going into a new house scares me..im apprehensive, nervous, jittery..cold feet (literally) sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat..excitement on sunny days, optimistic plans and imagining lying down beside him, making him cold mayo and chicken sandwiches in the morning, small imperfect little habits...its overwhelming, school is overwhelming, ammi is overwhelming..everything is just...i dont know

 on the flip side..i decided to go to my schools monthly dirty bingo get-together's and homg. clearly. the world has lost its mind. in just one example of absurd perverseness, the lead host (african american male avec moustache and two pillows each for boobs and three for the butt region with black/grey wig) big momma got two girls to have beige dildos stuck between their legs (with pants) pointing outwards to fight each other's..well..fake thingy.

yep. entertainment of the night.needed it after the intense emo session with prof earlier,not that i regret it for one second..just needed something to put a smile on me before i headed home spewing rainbows from my teeth liek i try to.

all for now where updates are concerned..thinking of doing a new blog on profs request.
here goes,

:)
eeda

there will be...

hold up hold up while i sort out my mind.

i must suppress this female tendency to subdue the gory, and speak for what it is,
(perhaps to feminize the honest rot will make it appear more pleasant, tolerable)

.....................................................

the doctor of brains tells me he does not know how it is;
can i capture it how it is, can i say it how it is?
when all else fails but for the tears, he says. be a student. that comes first, right now.
i protest. but i am also a daughter!

you will always be a daughter.
(you are a student first)
it is this capitalism that they inject in my bloodstream, coursing like poison, but also the antidote to the grief at home.

things have settled down in a plastic,contained sort of way. bound in strips of clingfilm and social gatherings; we are a-okay.
..........................................................

my brain twirls gently between throbbing membranes, interlocking
spider veins, steely tendrils to hold
it in place.
my face
an empty spot
between the faces of others in photographs,
the blank space i wish i could fill,
but cannot erase.

i look at ghost albums displayed
frivolously
at my windowsill.
still moments of shock, surprise, shared
passion,
i will never feel.
locked, Pandora's box, my
heart,
concealed.

..............................................................

and just like that, the words that were tumbling over each other in my mouth to rush forward onto the keyboard and stain it greyblackblue; silence and disappear.

i want to thank Gunther, u've been there since the very start, and ur message meant the world to me. i think i'm too much of a coward to actually ever run, but ur offer was sincere, and truly touching. thank u.

-eeda

for all the words of comfort, thank you.

i've been on a reading binge lately... somehow getting lost in something infinitely vast in your imagination is more satisfying than the reality im immersed in right now. i construct war zones and romantic interludes at the back of my eyes, in the corner in the dark where no light from my present can reach. it is enough for a distraction, gets me out of the here and now.

the doctor is surprised at how im holding up, tells me to move out, i say that is not a possibility.

reflections are always such a tedious task, perhaps that is why i've been reading too. i use borrowed words to reconstruct what i feel or what i want to feel, and substitute with how i am feeling..the borrowed emotions are less tedious and less draining, and that is only how i manage to go on.





20 Jan 2010. Disaster Risk Managment class.
(how ironic?..or perhaps, very astute)


How could i begin to weave the fleshy strips of my narrative, the internal monologue constantly repeating my story to myself..to spew out of a hollow dry mouth, hoping the inky strains on paper can covey some small part of the stories through which we live.


at what point do we being to unravel the story from our own, the completely aloof fictitiuos tale from reality...transcribed out of pure boredon, burst of litereary vomit or distracted musings carefully crafted to sit on the sidelines, (but never a reflection of soul, never)


,...................

If i could write a story, it too would be about maps. 

-eeda