Two Shades of Grey

Since past few days whenever I’d come for the afternoon nap, I’d see two pigeons on the widow shed next-door. For some reason it has started to bug me little. Two extremely quiet grey birds with that queer unwavering stare. Every day the spooky sight outside my window would disturb my precious minutes of peace. So to play fair I decided to take my revenge and spy on them today.

The one darker in color is sitting on the edge of the shed and seems asleep. The other one is walking around, checking out the place I suppose. Then this Pigeon stops and stares at the three cables running inside the house through a hole. Appears like this hyperactive one, fancy cable-wire as it starts to excitedly dance around it. This retarded pigeon stays there messing with the cables for a while. Minutes later it gets bored and starts to walk around on the shed looking for other fun things. 

Then it's back again and goes, “Ooh! What is that?” stopping by the same three cables. More hypnotics dance moves and exuberant neck movements to enjoy. However the dance was interrupted by noisy crows on the nearest tree this time. The darker Pigeon is still deep in sleep on the edge of the shed. I can’t help but assume the sleepyhead must be the male.

The enthusiastic-appearing-to-be-restless-female-pigeon forgets about the wires and starts to walk around. Turns around and stops, “Ooh! What is that?” Three cables capture and mesmerize the crazy lady again for the tenth time now. The guy-pigeon wakes up like 15 minutes later. Stretches its wings and flies off. Err, that’s it?

SHE still break-dance to the cables though. Then the girl-Pigeon missed her sane partner and followed. Finally I can fall asleep without creepy grey in sight. However I bet they’d be back again tomorrow… Oops I thought wrong, they are back again. *facepalm*

Short Story: Shadow

Written by Tayyaba Aziz & Saqib Hussain 

After 30 minutes of struggling to focus on work, Moosa finally gave up. He stumbled in his heavy walk to the window, pulling out his pack of smokes. The storm had stopped and a cool breeze was coming in through the open window.

He rested his side on the window frame and looked up at the receding clouds. He was afraid he couldn’t fight the memories of that day anymore. He knew they would return now as they had every night since. He would once again relive the loss of another dear one leaving him just because he couldn’t say yes anymore.

He quickly lit a cigarette and took a long drag, hearing the click clack of her heels in his mind as he thought of her pacing away from him in the café. In the cold quiet room, each footfall felt like a magistrate’s mallet falling hard and decisively, the echo ringing of his failure.

The clouds must have moved; moonlight made a rectangular patch on the floor, but Moosa was lost in thought. He was growing angry again. He wanted to hit somebody or break things or maybe do a bit of both.

When he couldn’t keep the rage in, he punched the wooden frame of the window. It did no damage to the wood but Moosa let out a grunt in pain. His eyes began to sting with tears he had been holding back.

“You think they aren’t worth your tears, don’t you,” a man asked, entering the room.

Moosa turned to look at the only friend he’d been able to keep over the years.

 “I was afraid you might not make it tonight,” he said with a rueful smile.

Haaris gave him a smile that showed malice more than anything. He reached for Moosa’s hand, who gave him the lit cigarette. Haaris took a drag and said, “It was the storm. You should’ve known I’d come as soon as the sky cleared.”

Moosa only looked at Haaris passively and replied, “Yeah. I’m glad you could come. We need to talk about something.”

Haaris laughed and rubbed his hands together and said, “This is going to be good. Are we still sulking about your friend? What was her name?”

Moosa looked at him with loathing. He had made up his mind by now.

Haaris continued smoking and said smugly, “I think it’s time you understood I am the only one who will stay with you.”

Moosa turned to Haaris with a face devoid of expression, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

His friend laughed, and when he spoke, every word reeked of contempt, “Really? Am I getting a promotion?”

Moosa turned away again, looking at the moon.

The room went quiet for a few minutes. The night outside was still as well. The only sounds were the shuffling feet when the men shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

Haaris moved to the window and stood with Moosa.

“You’re being very quiet tonight,” he said with a worried voice.

Moosa turned to his old friend and turned back to the window with a smile, “I think I need to change myself. I’ve lived in enough misery for a lifetime. They need to know I’m more than their slave.”

Haaris was looking at him quizzically, realizing what was coming next and not believing it. He said, “But that’s not possible. You are still guilty. I can sense it. I am here, dammit!”

Moosa pulled away from the window frame, rubbing gently on his knuckles, and replied, “You won’t be the next time I step into light. I’ll make a new friend, I think,” he said, walking off into the darkness.

Haaris screamed, “Wait!!”

It was too late, though. Moosa had stepped out of the light and Haaris had dissolved into the darkness around him. He was all alone again with the weight of his sins, but somehow they felt lighter.

Only If You Could See...

At 6 am

The door BANGS loud.

Man shouts, “How would you justify your behavior? Huh?”

A woman replies something in almost inaudible hysterical voice.  

Hasty footsteps were the only next sound.

Man voice became more berserk and loud, “How dare you speak in between! You stay out of it! This is all, your fault!”

Then there was a fraught silence, before the yelling in between loud sobs of the distraught woman.

Anyone could tell by the voice of the man, he knew argument isn’t the only thing he is losing.

Lying on the bed next doors, fighting for a nap, all I hear is… pain.

The two sides of the story are hard to see at times. Why we like the drama when it’s on TV is because we can clearly see both sides without being biased. Life of a person is not the time period they get to share with you. How you perceive someone, is only one shade of that person in the circumstances you interact in. We stay oblivious to a thousand other factors, pressures and problems effecting and constantly changing this person.

How beautiful world would be if we could see both ends of the story. See real unspoken reasons behind a smile, a hello, a farewell and a fight. Just like a movie scene that pause your story, to show you the other end. You see their roles as sharp as it is to the person in concern. Change that background music and the set. Then you start to see far beyond the confessions. And you start to find the answer to every WHY question. For we need to know the reasons behind every move before we judge.

Would that change your perception and decision? Would you be guilty if that happens? Would you still argue and fight? Would you pack your bags and leave? Or… would you stay and appreciate?

Does it ever hit you, that maybe we are doing it all wrong? Maybe we are already there? Maybe we still do see both the ends, but are blinded by horns effect or halo effect or whatever effect there is. Only the realization of the unbalanced energy is enough to make it RIGHT. It’s enough to get rid of the blindfold.  Acknowledge you already do see what most would stay blind to on purpose. Life is beautiful when your heart can see a little better than your eyes. There won’t be any reason left, not to forgive, not to let go, not to love and appreciate. 

When you have Sciatic Nerve pain in your 20s....

It all started from a very silly habit: bad posture. Where the edge of the chair cuts into my lumbar spine, thinking it’s a cool way of relaxing. Just a brief intro although I can’t explain it as good as doctors, sciatica nerve pain generally comes from a pressed nerve. And that nerve is the largest nerve of the body running down your thigh. In short it’s caused due to any wear and tear your lumbar spine goes through.

I wake up one day and couldn’t get out of the bed easily. My left leg felt really heavy like it’s not even a part of my body. When I try to move, this leg would give me a striking pain in the lower back. It was alarming so I visit my doctor that night, and he told me there’s nothing to worry. The extremely-good-looking-shocking-young doctor tells me, “At your age sciatic pain recovers itself within weeks”. I gladly believed him. He wrote me some pain killers and I walk out relieved.

In the beginning those painkillers helped me follow my workout routine just fine. Unfortunately I wake up next day with worse pain than ever! Then it becomes a vicious cycle. Painkillers would make me numb, workouts gets easy and next morning I have worse pain than yesterday. Day three: I couldn’t complete my workout even with those painkillers. After accepting I can’t do it, I lied on the floor and started crying.

That physical helplessness was turning everything black and white. One by one I started to give up on all that I loved to do. Things would appear so out of reach and distant that I'm not even trying anymore. That weekend I get a call for from my bestie, convincing me to go out shopping. I declined abruptly. On which she snarled, “If you won’t go Tayyaba! I swear I’d NEVER talk to you again!” On the other end of the phone, I become quiet analyzing if she really means it. To my silence she asks laughing “Kamini! Did you just stop talking to me already?”  So yeah she convinced me to go after all that serious threat. Thanks to her, it helped me immensely.

However the anxiety that comes from feeling old in your mid-twenties is suicidal. I gave up on stupid painkillers that made me feel more numb than I already felt. And that wasn’t the only BAD decision made. I started to cut out on important meals to compensate for my inability to exercise/stretch. The pressure of the belief “I am fitness motivation myself” was inevitable.  Later it turns out the cute doctor was right. I recovered. Sadly I invited on me another evil disease: general weakness from that poor diet.

I am recovering now ALHAMDULILLAH or else I wouldn’t be here. Take my bad decision as a lesson; never ever miss meals thinking it will keep you fit. Sure you won’t gain weight but at the cost of good health. You can’t keep your army out and still believe you’d survive.

Arright, emma go take my Multivitamins now. 

Stranger: The Hardest Transition

On meeting a stranger we start the struggle to know them better in the shortest period possible. Mostly and surely we make a lot of mistakes in this desperate urge-to-know-well phase. Later blaming it on them thinking they used to wear a mask. Or simply the famous “YOU HAVE CHANGED”.

The thing is human is complex stuff, you can’t just built the entire persona of anyone in weeks or months. People you read like a book sometimes don’t even know who they themselves are. I mean, I had a very nice friend who told me he’s an environmentalist. Two years later on the profile I find he is a photographer, too? His excuse, ‘You never asked’.  I mean seriously? Was I supposed to take every profession that exist and ask randomly?

Yes, guys don’t open up easily but hiding stuff is different ... and nasty. Well it goes for both genders. It takes time and effort, especially when it comes to get-to-know another person. There will always be so many pieces of the puzzle missing on the image you hold in your mind. And in the attempt to complete this mysterious image we start to sew in, our self-desired patches to this person’s personality. Man by nature hates ‘the unknown’ no matter what form we may encounter it in. This explains the frustrating hard work and scarifies we make for communication with new friends, or new ‘Whoever’ (Ahem…).

On the darker side: Taking for granted the old ones. Fortunately we aren’t discussing any sob stories here today, so get it over with “Old Friends”.

My point is, it’s not a curse to have some missing patches, consider it a blessing. Predictable is boring, be grateful if you know someone who never cease to surprise you. We can never do justice to a person when it comes to understanding or appreciating them. Drop whatever you assume adding to that picture. For what they hold in them would always be more beautiful. Reality would always win over any realms of fantasy. Cherish your mysterious new buddies just the way they are.

Aren't you tired of playing the Superhero?

Has it ever happened to you that one person makes you feel like you are super natural? As if you have this invincible power of healing and inspiration. They stick with you and open up to you like no one else. They share the darkest of their endless night and you began to unweave them from it. Soon it becomes your foremost responsibility. All this hard work starts to pay when you see them grow and glow like never before.

The more they wrap around you like a parasitic plant. That’s okay though, you are intoxicated with that noble feeling. This so called NOBLE act becomes the entire purpose of your existence. When they text, call or try to reach you, you feel indebted to respond.

Now that nights have turned to brighter days, you feel blessed to see this is all your sunshine that gleams far and wide. Then there comes a day when the night falls on your end. You start to crave someone who would listen, and believe you are as human as they are. Or maybe return the one-fourth part of what you give? Sadly you cannot suddenly tax something that has been free for all these years.

The truth is out for all to see, yet you kick the leftovers of your ego aside and keep doing your thing. You play the shrink when you need one for yourself lately. Why? For they give you a beautiful meaning to your life, make you feel you can fix things. Or maybe this is LOVE for they make you a better person.

And one day you happily text your one and only reason for living and ZAP! They are gone. GONE! On the bigger picture it is for the best. Unfortunately you only see the rooms get exceedingly darker. Everyone seems to be yelling at you. Nothing makes sense anymore. Routine becomes Robotic and life feels like being thrown in a cactus field every day.

Nope, it never happened to me.

Creative people have this unyielding need to fix things. And it starts to become more of curse when this madness exceeds to ‘Fixing People’. Just the idea to play the superhero and saving life is infatuation enough. What we lack to understand is there are people who enjoy sadness, moaning and living in their pasts. It is who they are; they pity themselves and seek it in others for survival. Yeah I can’t deny the highest level of CUTENESS factor in these people though. Unfortunately it adds to the need to be their cured and pampered. It’s about time you stop fixing them since no one can play the healer. There is only one HEALER, and He heals best. Let your Creator do His job. 

Loca for a new language!

Hola! Como esta? Bien. Y tu? Adios!

There you have my life’s hard work for this language. It all started back when our older cousin challenged us to sing a Spanish song as fluent as any BSB Song. It took us two days to write that Spanish song for we kids were to naive to Google lyrics. Hence we had to invent our own Spanish that would sound exactly like Ricky Martin’s. Now when I look back I wonder why we went through all that trouble. How annoying aggressive kids we would have been. In a week we learned the entire song by heart. And that’s where we began to enjoy the taste of Espanol.

Most of the famous international songs had pretty inappropriate lyrics. However it was Spanish and that’s all we cared about as kids. We’d write and memorize these songs as a fun hobby. Only now after so many years I actually understand that highly embarrassing gibberish.

How insulting it is when Natives translate a language you already know. Now I get enraged when people translate Spanish and more enraged when I fail to ketchup with their Spanish-ness!

Here is the golden advice I’d like to share. One of my sagacious English Teacher used to say, whoever wants to learn a new language should listen to songs in that language. This works magically for good songs have good vocabulary. Also the repetition of that song helps our minds to remember and interpret words faster. Loca for Pablo Alboran, well he teach me Spanish, plus he is umm... cute?  

Now that I can understand Spanish. Oh who am I kidding? But hey! It is not impossible. Even if it's ENGLISH or whatever language you are struggling with, be patient and keep going. No class or school can make you fluent and feed you with prodigious vocabulary. The only profound way is to create an environment around you that helps you a bit each day. The media, TV, radio, music, internet everything should be in that remote language. 

Besides that, try to find just one person who can help. Whether they are the native speaker or just another pathetic endeavor like you, would assist a great deal. They keep you motivated when you start to run low on your fuel and destination is still blur. 

It doesn't have to be stressful at all. Enjoy and live every word of it. Speak it with people around you even if they throw you weird looks. During my vacations I got so deeply indulged into it that I started to see NIGHTMARES in Spanish! My mother wakes me up for Fajar payer and she’s yelling at me in Espanol! Then I’d decide to take a day’s break to get my sanity back. Until that happens to you, go Coo-Coo for your Favorite Language!