I'm having this weird pins-and-needles feeling like i need to write, but i don't know of what.
There was something my mind was muttering last night, the beginnings of a poetic ramble, but it was lost somewhere between an all-consuming desire to fall asleep, and S's arms. the former because of the latter perhaps.
besides, in the hold I'm in, i can barely find an inch to squeeze out a finger to type with.

It must've been something to do with Belonging. Fitting into shells carved out in another's soul, meant for you. Empty spaces we keep locked up inside, afraid to show the cocoons that might just be the Cinderella's-shoe to someone else's hurting soul. Slip inside to remedies, comfort, protection...whatever it is you're looking for.

I find acceptances and answers in weird places. TV stations with maulvis I find questionable at best. The revelations make me cry, affirm that the cocoon I easily fit into every night was perhaps, the very best choice for me. An intangible sort of forgiveness and acceptance, of following down the right path becomes perhaps just a little tangible...in stories narrated from souls down generations, we find peace in other's words and make that our peace. Balm the questions and turn question marks into full stops, finality.
Peace.

What is inner peace? Is it inside yourself or inside the cocoon within another? Every time I see him with heartbreaking vulnerability and an ache deep inside my soul, I find my inner peace is inside him. Maybe that's why they call it 'inner', and don't attach pronouns with it..Inner could be inside anyone, not necessarily yourself.

Home is where the heart is. Peace is where you fit. Or maybe, who you fit. Maybe they're all one and the same thing. Maybe Plato was right when he said what he did about soul-mates.

Maybe.


(admitting to your vulnerability when so much of it resides in someone else can be a very difficult thing)

lessons learnt in time.
-eeda

Is this the millionth time i've written this?, but the feeling just doesn't get old...
I LOVE how his arm looks for me on the bed at night, and pulls me closer, and passes out around my waist again, every twenty minutes..

Just doesn't get old.

Wandering arms that is, and love.

-eeda

The homesickness feels as if someone is ramming the butt end of a rifle hard again my chest cavity, from the inside, again and again.

Ghar jaana hai, bus.

circular awakenings

while at G uncle's home last night, his wife enquired about my schooling. i told her my stories of acievement, excellence, with as much humility as i posess, as much as stating fact as possible. she looked at me and said, 'i told G since i first met you, that you were my ideal. how a daughter should be, how a girl should behave. your mother in law in so very blessed that she didnt have to do anything to get a wonderful daughter in law like you'
i told her that had my parents not overworked overstressed and bent themselves backwards for my upbringing, i wouldntve been this way today at all. sure it meant a tough childhood, but the hardwork now speaks for itself, when in a crowd.
'it absolutely does' said she, admiringly.

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

later that night on the phone with my mom, i told her this episode. she got quiet for a bit.
then she said, 'you know what i was thinking earlier this afternoon? that i really did push you all toooo much for ur education when you were younger, i shouldntve done that. and i thought this to myself and thinking about it, i just started crying.'' she finished her sentence, and dissolved into tears again.
her words felt like balm to my heart. years of feeling like i wasn't good enough, it was so much undue pressure, i would collapse collapse collapse...those biting feelings started to soften, ice over...
'ma, ur hard work then is paying off, people are in awe and you aren't there to witness it, that's the only tragedy now. had you not been the way you were, i wouldn't be me. '
and that's the truth. it really is.
.................................

how funny it is that those roles are now reversed? i acknowledge the goodness that came of it and she's just starting to see the downfall...and the goodness too im sure.

sigh.lesson learnt in time.
life is a very funny business indeed.


-eeda

I love how, in the middle of my sleep, I'll feel his arms enveloping my back and dragging me closer to him from the other edge of the bed. Then a few very sleepy back rubs later, his restless, caressing hand will find a suitable nook in my silhouette to anchor onto, before both hand and him lie completely at peace again, rising and falling to the rhythm of our breathing..

could this be any more beautiful, ya Allah?

The gentleness, the love, the sheer beauty of having him now with me, after everything? Leaves me stupefied...in utter awe.

Thank u thank u thank u so much,a hundred times over.

-eeda

shukarguzar, the beginning.

let's start at the start, things to be thankful for, a million times over.

i was going through some old pictures today when it reallly hit me. i've had such a great, fulfilling life, Alhamdolilah. my parents are such phenomenal people. I know everyone says that about their parents and if i insist that mine really are then it would be a cliche, but love aside, they REALLY are.
i've never seen any other couple in this world who has made more sacrifices for others, who has helped more people, whether it be money, emotionally, mentally..just whatever way they could.

from my dad always giving rides to random strangers to wherever they need to go so they wouldnt have to walk in the blistering libyan sun, to my mom taking in a new mom and her ENTIRE family and keeping them with us for 2 weeks, because her own mom was in pakistan, and feeding them and their husband, and never complaining, and then throwing her a grand party at the end of it so she wouldnt feel ke unke sath koi bhi kami hui ho, to my dad's endless secret donations, endlessly helping his family, going up to random lost pakistanis in libya and showing them around, bringing them food, taking them grocery shopping so they wouldnt have to take the bus..mein likhna shuru karo to shayad mahinay ho jaein..

my parents have only taught me nothing but love, nothing but self-sacrifice, nothing but pure, unbridled generosity for everyone. they taught me never to lie in a way i did never lie to them. they taught me to never eat from anothers without their permission, to neevr hurt with word or action, to never be a burden and always a blessing.... and ofcourse in the process their own hearts were broken, but they never let themselves break. they ALWAYS told us despite everything to just do good and keep on doing good, tirelessly and endlessly.

we were never a rags to riches story, but there was tough times when all 4 of us minus the youngest slept in one room because thats all we had, to when we had more but even then we slept together for for a long time to save on ac bills,...then to a time where we went to egypt london pakistan all in one year, and it was no big deal.. now, when im married and i think of expenses, and paychecks, only then do i realize what a big deal it was.
what a big HUGE deal it was.
despite the ups and down we always dressed conservative, shopped coservative, never wore branded clothes, were never the first kids with the technology gimmicks but still got everything our hearts desired...

i guess what im trying to say is that the more i get aware of things, the more i realize that this clean mirror heart i weigh the world with is all thanks to them, and no thanks to me. i know no other way.
i can't lie. i can never let a beggar pass me by without giving them something, anything (something S still finds funny and makes a joke of, in loving jest). i listen to others heartbreaks and cry tears for their pain, and i cant help it. i can NEVER say no when asked to do something, even it means upsetting others.
and while these things may be hindrances, im downright PROUD of this. Me. not to boast, not to brag. im not saying i have wings of gold, but i do have a clear heart with a clear conscience, a heart woven together with threads of love, trust, faith, sensitivity to the plight of other human beings regardless of religion or caste, a heart that pulls others up when its breaking inside itself, a heart my parents wove with such earnest and such hard work. and my God did they do a damn good job of it.

i guess the only thing that keeps me up at night is the gut wrenching fear that my own children will never get the greatness that i saw in my own parents my whole life, and that i see in S's parents. these generations are withering away and taking away all this goodness with them. this purity, good-will, good-intention, emaan, achay ikhlaq...such pure gold... what are going to do when its all gone, and all we have left is the faint traces inside of us? old wives tales, folklores and 'hamnay kaheen suna tha'...

i'm counting my blessings every day by day by day. in conversations with others, when im out in the world, the more i learn about the miserable lives other people live, the fact that not all parents are the same. mere ma baap ney waqai mer bohot sath deya, aur aab bhi dete hain. and i just dont know, i really just dont know how i will ever, ever repay them?

-eeda

so.
before I stepped into the shower,
he lit up candles,
put on the scientist
and hugged me no end.


he might annoy the s@*&  out of me sometimes, I think most husband do, but goodness me I love him so very much.

so muchly much.

-eeda

Hiccoughs.

She came and she apologized, and for a while all was well in the world.
All was well except for the gouged out pieces of my innocent heart.

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

I am sad today. I don't know why. It's burdensome and tiresome and my eyelids are heavy fighting daylight nightmares that won't go away. I'm worried worried worriedsick for him, and all that he is hiding or maybe not hiding...Is this how he really is? How long can I hide him away from the world, so they don't laugh at him?
Who do I trust?

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

They played the wizard for a fool, the fool for a wizard.

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

Blue Mist haze and foggy city lights and I'm backed up into a leather cubicle. People smoking, talking, laughing, glittering like angels, cloaked like sinners, and I just rest my head back and watch it all.
Everything around me is all yellow.

your skin, oh yeah your skin and bones

turn in

to something beautiful.

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

some days my hands smell like onions
some days like laundry detergent
some days, like love.
some days.... worry, tears, nostalgia, missing home..

the days I like best
are the days they smell of You.

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

(but) Everything is You, and you are nothing.

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


they say you get hiccoughs when someone misses you. I have roadbloacks in my throat, and maybe I just miss home.
hm.
maybe.

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




-eeda

I feel like writing it all out. everything that happens the injustices the lack of utter maturity but then
this blank white whiteness of this screen glaring like
the insides of my eyeballs eats
me up and i'm running in a hamster's circle
white and spinning and my mind forgets
what it was it was trying to explain.

things get lost in black holes but in
white holes too,

did u know?

-eeda

yes it sucks.

when u bend over backwards to please ur in-laws. do things that no 6-month old bride would be doing..cooking, cleaning, scrubbing the floors, bathroom tiles, cleaning out the fridge, microwave, taking care of everyone in the family, nashta dena, khana dena, laundry karna, fold kerke achay se two flights of stairs upar neechay karna, aur uski shaadi ki leye ghar ke eik eik kona sajana, uski gadi sajana, uska karma mein apna sara neya saman bhar dena takay usko sub naya aur acha mile, aur subah ke 6 bajay tak uske leye shaadi ka slideshow bana ker, 9 bajay uth jana sub ko nashta dene ke leye, and all those little little things....theek hai ke sub respect kertay hain usko,..lekin yeh jo eik second mein paraya ker dena hota hai na, yeh meri samajh mein nahee ata.

like okay u did a great job, and I loved u when I needed u when I was getting married and none of my friends were there, and ill hold ur hand and no one elses when I said my yes's, lekin jab meray hisay ki baat ayegi to use mein nahee nibahoungi..that bites.

when they all go out for goodness-knows-what. and they ignore that im on the dining table with them. and forget asking me to come along, don't even bother to tell me they're going...

that bites.

aur mein upar se jitna bhi muskura loon, aur jitna bhi hans loon, aur jitna bhi pretend kerloon that yes they're a family and I don't have to be included, and they should get their alone-time now that she's married, and I don't have to tag along when i'm not wanted there, the fact that I wasn't asked to come along.

that really really bites.

kher. I've learnt that the achai u do should never be contingent on the response u wish to receive from other people, because other people are also human. maybe in pain, upset, moody, with their own problems...the goodness you do should be completely irrespective of that with any kind of appreciation or respect as just a mere bonus. but my heart is human too, and if I don't acknowledge that this being left behind feeling really stings me, I would lying to my core. And I can't do that.

I think that's the thing with this post-marriage re-birth. I've gone back to the old me. The pre-Vancouver, pre-khalu, pre-Golf me. I'm overly happy, overly nice and under-anxious now. I've gone back to being the no-drama no-games saaf dil eeda I was. And it feels Great to return to core. To return to the ideals the 14 or 16 or 18 year old would have loved to know that the 23 year old would continue to live by.
But it stings. And everyone around me tells me it's impractical. My husband, my friends..My own mother and father. They tell me that my selflessness is killing me and it shows. I put myself so far back behind I'm not even ON my own list anymore. I looked like a mess at her wedding, because I got ready last, I took all my hair pins from my hair to tuck her hair in place, so she would look great and me, who cares? I was in two photos. If that. In both of which I looked like a mess, and people said it. But that doesn't matter, to me it didn't. I saw her overwhelmed and smiling and that was it.

But ab aisa to nahee hona chaheye na?

I can't stop myself though. There's no off switch that makes it easier to be heartless. I cannot just say No. I don't know how to do this, how to tone the goodness down, sadly, so I don't over-ride myself, I don't get hurt. I don't want to be bitter, I don't want to hold back from doing any little thing that can be of service to anyone. It's actually not even a matter of I don't want to, I can't. I just simply can't. It's hardwired into every fiber of my being.

Kher. I'll just put on some good old mopey songs and mope. And when they come back I'll be all smiles again and pretend that it never really mattered to me that I was left behind like a rejected member of their family they thought a burden to take with them. And maybe with all the pretense, I'll believe my own act, like I always do, and it will just fade away as well. In due time.

-eeda

dil

kyun yeh mera shor karay..

thrre is an internal, somethingsomething thats leaving me restless. the imposter of ur visage
, Golf, stands so close, so tangible to me each day..leaving me oddly bitter, sullen, withdrawn..i punish him for the injustice you bestowed....

.what an irony God, to have the man who forsake me take another form in my sister in laws husband? so similar in manner, speech, physical form, and..the eyes? the.exact.same.piercing.gaze. i find i cannot even bear to look upnwhen he's in the same room, it leaves me in a state of such confusion. had the loose ends of my distant past been tied up, maybe this oh-so -real reminder of how your and mine story unfolded wouldn't have been so bitter. i cant refer to it as 'we'. you saw to that didn't you?

needless to say, the hapless victim might be equally as confused as the inflicter of this awkwardness, i dont know how what where, my mind is relieving those 20 days over and over again and the 6 month that followed....the only peace i get is when S is in the room and i can focus on him, and the goodness and love he brings in my life, unquestioning,...undemanding...and then i can temporarily clear my mind of the painful what-ifs that you left lingering in your wake.

but ur married now. with a child. and i have a partner who is, by every means, my missing half. i cannot fathom existing if i dont' see his face every morning..then why is this pinging at my heart so so intensely? i just wanted closure. i really honestly just wanted to hear the 'no' from you...not this houdini act of disappearances and illusions and questionsquestionsquestions....and then the news you were engaged.

im hoping i can minimize my interaction with this innocent imposter for the few days every monthni will have to be in the same vicinty as him, somehow by then i can rip these two personas apart into two entities, not have one as such a poignant reminder of the other.


kahan ghayab rehta hai ye dil.
soch.

im thinking at the back crevices of my mind enclosed in little black holes, plastic jars covered in fuchsia clingfilm ( its always important to clean up very nicely and look pretty on the outside'. inside im swirling swirling in tendrils of smoke joy and visions pastfuture. not the grumpy stooge yet tho.


enough meandering. back to life,
-eeda

conversations

worth remembering.

me-so maybe there was no need for moeed to get personal with you when you fixed that bulb that tripped the electrcity in the house, there was no need for him to say that you can't think for yourself, and therefore you shouldnt have done that.

niz-but he always says that i easily get influenced by my other room mates...and it has happened in the past, it's true, i sometimes let them make my decisions..

me-niz, if you never try, you'll never learn. that's the whole point of living by yourself, and it's alright to be influenced, that's what friends are for..listen to their opinions, but as long as you always have your own inner voice there, that's fine..

niz- but sometimes i can't hear that voice, its so influenced by other people, current events..

me- and that's fine. look, your voice is always there, and always changing. it's like your moral compass, like...when you get mad at ammi for saying certain things to deejay, that's you inner voice.

niz- but if i listened to every time when that inner voice told me to say something to ammi, it would be war..wouldn't go down too well...

me-i guess that's what being an adult is all about....finding your inner voice, the part inside you that says this is wrong, this is right, but knowing when to act on it and when not to.. like, there's a lot of things that my in-laws do that i feel aren't right, but i can't tell them that.that doesn't mean i change how i feel about it..just acknowledge it, and be wise not to say anything.


i love talking to him, love learning things that are inside me, that are happening to me, that i'm only just acknowledging...
what a wonderful thing...



-eeda

What greater blessing than to lie down next to him each night, than to breathe him in with every tired breath?

Sasural gainda phool

Indeed.

Sometimes they make me wanna scream. An over protective mother defends hypocrisy and ill behavior in a beloved daughter who, with her twisted Islamic dogma and holier than thou facade, punishes people for no good reason other than the fact that they didn't read her mind for what she wanted. spoilt much? Oh, and i'm supposedly included in the silent/bitch treatment by said sister by virtue of belonging to her ( not so guilty either) brother. Innocence kills too sometimes, and being a martyr to my own kindness is my very favorite well rehearsed act.

Sigh.

Patience. Cook clean kill your dreams your voice and make submissive everything you ever held dear. And when they invade your space, hide in your little hole whimpering injustice.

Such is life.

Atleast the husband is a sweetheart.
#consolation.

-eeda

Marriagethings.one.

Can there be anything sweeter than the sound of his somewhat labored breathing while I lay on his forearm?

Yaqeen nahee ata.

On a side note, installed blogger app on phone...I might just come back alive.