Archive | December, 2011

But Then Again, No!

21 Dec
"Strictly speaking, I took an arrow to the knee."

"Strictly speaking, I took an arrow to the knee."

When it comes to Pakistani politics, I have never been able to form an opinion that I can be assertive about. The promises. The boisterous speeches. The rallies. The dogmatic claims. The critics. The analysts. But the critics mostly. This massive cloud of uncertainty leads me nowhere. Who is the most credible? Who is the most candid? Who is duplicitous? Then there are those wannabe-critics who come up with the words ‘cynic’ and ‘troll’ for others when they can’t support their position with sound logic. Indecisiveness is a word which accurately describes my mental state.

Until recently, I used to be a person without any communication skills at all. I never dared to speak a word because I believed that my opinion would be met with mocking laughter and disbelief. I didn’t have a direction to follow. I had a readiness to believe in everyone. But then I started building up a taste and an opinion that would be my own, uninfluenced by any external pressure. I developed my own tastes in music, poetry, prose, cars and food, to name a few, but never did I form a truly independent opinion about politics.

The fact that the commentators on Pakistani politics enjoy so much support relies upon the theory that this country’s rulers will never grow up, which is backed by a history of more than 64 years. The military coups. The injustices. The prejudiced dictators. The alienation of East and West. The corrupt democratic rulers. The endless blame-games. The growing sensationalism in media. The plethora of adamant self-proclaimed ‘independent analysts’ writing articles for internet-based newspapers.

Everyone has an opinion; no one knows what’s it worth. Everyone has a problem; no one has a solution. Everyone has followers; no one has a direction. Will I ever reach a conclusion?

Where Do We End Up?

19 Dec

“What kind of university is going to accept us with these grades?”
“We don’t have to worry about the grades as long as we do well in the entrance tests, which we surely will.”

Back in school, I used to be everyone’s dose of optimism. Got rejected by a girl? Oh, no worries! That girl from 11th grade seems to be quite interested in you. Can’t solve an Integration problem? Visit me this weekend and we’ll figure it out. Not prepared for the presentation? Copy my notes. Don’t have a girlfriend? Cool story, bro! I don’t have one either. Need help with an assignment? If you’re a girl, I’ll do it for you.

"So Aadil, I was thinking if you could... umm... I don't know how to say this... if you could do my homework?"

"So Aadil, I was thinking if you could... umm... I don't know how to say this... if you could do my homework?"

I was ambitious, but I didn’t have a map. I used to have lengthy discussions with friends, all pondering over where we were supposed to end up after school. Everyone wanted to get to the rooftop; no one knew where exactly the staircase was. Often, we found ourselves bragging, “If I were the president, I would do blah blah blah.” Sometimes in the library, we were found rewriting the constitution of Pakistan, not reaching a consensus on any single point. A few of us were exceptionally talented, in our own words, when it came to Urdu poetry. The bad part, however, was that we didn’t have anything to write about, apart from our failed ‘love stories’.

"Your draft of the constitution says that the president must have paedophilia. Well, why not necrophilia?"

"Your draft of the constitution says that the president must have paedophilia. Well, why not necrophilia?"

Then, one (not very) fine day, we found ourselves standing beneath the sun. The competition. The spectators. The failures. All of a sudden, we knew precisely how to differentiate one from another. When we faced the mirror, it had a big “YOU ARE A SPECTATOR” written over it.

The Closet

12 Dec
Yet another bad example of a double exposure shot. (I could be wrong.)

Yet another bad example of a double exposure shot. (I could be wrong.)

This is a modified version of an email I sent to a friend last night.

It came as a surprise when you said to me, “I disappointed you, like everyone else.” It surprised me not only because it was totally uncalled for, but also because it was coming from a wrong person.

I don’t open up myself to a lot of people, because whoever once discovers me entirely, leaves me behind and forgets all the promises he/she once made to me. Maybe they do it inadvertently, but they never realise that on the other side of the road, a drain is left uncovered. Sometimes I let out my feelings out of frustration, but that doesn’t normally have any effect on the adverse outcome I am naturally obliged to cope with.

I am a person with simple motives. I need back the love I give. I’m living in a world where it’s impossible to live a selfless life. I don’t consider myself a selfless person, but that doesn’t make me selfish either. When I misbehave, I expect to be scolded and rampantly criticized, but I don’t expect to not ever being spoken to again. When I apologise even for the tenth time after making the same mistake, I expect to be given a chance. When I advise candidly, I expect the other person to follow and appreciate my advice instead of insulting me. When I am being nice to someone, I expect a warm hug in return.

I don’t expect to be thrown into someone’s priority list. I don’t expect to be played with. I don’t expect to be sidelined. I don’t expect to be misjudged. I don’t expect my voice to be lost in the crowd. I don’t expect to not being given prominence when I deserve it.

I am a person who doesn’t like to pretend, but I do pretend anyway. Society is a dirty word, I believe, and it fabricates our minds to a point where we aren’t sure of our own identity. So I pretend. I pretend that the world is a beautiful place to live in, regardless of how often I am mistreated.

Perhaps, I’m too selfish. But then again, I’m not selfish for money. I don’t have a longing for immature relationships. I don’t refer to people as my best friends just to win their favour. I don’t give false hopes. I’m selfish for my daily life needs.

Disappointed, I surely am. But not in you. I am disappointed in the people who play it wrong. The people who, despite knowing the malicious outcome of their deeds, do not abstain from doing what they do.

Fame = 1/365.25

9 Dec

Temporal life, unmeasured joy
Then why cling to The Stranded
It may have been a better day
Had we not parted

Unapologetic, intransigent
Unmoved by words, unmoved by tears
Yet, emotionally inconsistent
Moved by all the worldly fears

Yearning for significance
You may have now departed
But it may have been a better day
Had we not parted
It may have been a better day
Had we not parted

-A

Oh Freddie, I know how delicious the cake is!

Oh Freddie, I know how delicious the cake is!

Although the ‘birthday fame’ lasts only for a day, it’s been only 2 hours yet and I already feel overwhelmed. Everyone I know (and do not know) is pretending to be my friend today. People I’ve met, people I haven’t met, people I’ll never meet, and people who simply want a bite of the chocolate fudge cake.

Nevertheless, I hope that this year turns out to be better.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

5 Dec
Midgets not allowed in this town.

Midgets not allowed in this town.

Perfection. It’s hard to find, but it exists somewhere behind the faces we often misjudge. I wonder if someone feels about me the same way.

How do they achieve perfection unwittingly? Perhaps, they don’t run after it. Perhaps, they aren’t even aware of the mysteriously pleasant energy they create around themselves. They neither climb mountains, nor build huge fortresses. Although they have their imperfections, they scarcely ever get affected by them.

Are we all perfect, or is it just that particular person?

"Perfection Corleone, is my real name."

"Perfection Corleone, is my real name."

It’s no rocket science that we change ourselves in accordance with the behaviour and the mannerism of the people we meet. Though it’s only a temporary change, but we still manage to pretend to be someone we’re not. Maybe, someday, I will get so good at pretending that I will forget who the real Aadil is. Maybe.

But then again, perfectionism shouldn’t demand us to forget who we are. Maybe I should dig in deeper.

Let’s Agree To Disagree

1 Dec

More often than not, I find myself in a position where giving in doesn’t seem like a feasible option. I’m in a constant fight with my subconscious, and if I were to accede to it, not only I would find myself in trouble, but I’d also be losing my credibility. What’s this idea floating in my mind that keeps my opinion shuffling?

Wait, wait, wait. Ideas look like bulbs?

Wait, wait, wait. Ideas look like bulbs?

I start expecting from people before I even get to know them. I feel attached to them and want all their attention. That’s where the subconscious intrudes, and whispers, “Good work! Time to make the next move.” No…. no, no, no, no, no. NO!

“Hello, subconscious! Why don’t you go back to hell?”
“Is your body a disguise for this hell?” 
“I think I’ve had enough of this ‘experience’ now.”
“You can’t bury your feelings for life.”
“I’m giving it a shot, and it’s working.” 
“Being hypocritical, aren’t we?”

I need to stick it outside the house, so that the neighbours know we don't have any free tomatoes.

I need to stick it outside the house, so that the neighbours know we don't have any free tomatoes.

At this point, I stop arguing. Then again, at some point during the midnight, the river flows in multiple directions. Everything goes back to normal until the dawn. The subconscious quietly watches, and pities the situation. Let’s just agree to disagree, it says.

%d bloggers like this: