Sunday, October 30, 2005

Blue daba dee...

And there are times when reflection renders you incredibly happy.
I feel Lucky…
Lucky to have a roof over my head and food in my belly. To have never been afflicted by a major natural (or manmade) disaster. To be suitably healthy, wealthy and all that jazz.
Lucky to be loved, by family, by friends.
Incredible companions through thick and thin. Just the thought of whom bring a smile to my lips and a warmth in my heart. The twin I always longed for. My soul sisters.
People to whom care and compassion are instinct and lending a hand is second nature.
Who have taught me more than formal education ever could.
Because of you I have learnt responsibility and self confidence.
Borne witness to strength and determination I will never be able to emulate.
You amaze me everyday with your eccentricity and abstract connections.
Your implicit trust only serving to make me protective.
And your heart of gold making mine just a little shinier.
Your passion and verbose brilliance inspiring me to do more than I ever imagined I was capable of.
Your Radiance.
Your Modesty.
Your Difference.
And you’ve always been there. The constant in the uncertainty. The buoy in the stormy sea.
My rock. to call. to scream at. to listen. to lend me your shoulder and allow me to pass on the burden.
Wiping away the tears with hope and hugs.
You arrive uninvited when I need you most. To obliterate pain, or at least to try. You are my alter ego, but opposites attract and for that and more I am thankful.
Thankful and lucky to have more than one of you.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Cut, copy, paste.

Since nothing original is imminent seeing as how my relatively overworked yet highly underused brain is currently on strike… I decided to share some of my current readings. These are sketches on the partition by Sadat Hasan Manto, undoubtedly one of the best partition writers. At the time he was heavily critiqued for these sketches, which were labeled pornographic and sensationalist. Inherently ironic and hard-hitting.

Jelly
At six in the morning the man who used to sell ice cream from a push-cart next to the service station was stabbed to death. His body lay on the road, while water kept falling on it in steady driblets from the melting ice.
At a quarter past seven, the police took him away. The ice and blood stayed on the road.
A mother and child rode past the spot in a tonga. The child noticed the coagulated blood on the road, tugged at his mothers sleeve and said, ‘Look mummy, jelly.’

Invitation to action
When the neighborhood was set on fire, everything burnt down with the exception of one shop and its sign.
It said, ‘ All building and construction materials sold here.’

Ungrateful Lot
‘What an ungrateful nation! After all the trouble I went through, slaughtering 50 pigs in this mosque and what happens? Not one bloody customer! And do you know, on the other side there are people queuing outside every temple to buy beef!’

Luck
“That is what I call rotten luck. All I was able to lay my hands on was this one lousy case… and you know what was in it? Pork if you please!”

Mishtake
Ripping the belly cleanly, the knife moved in a straight line down the midriff, in the process slashing the cord which held the mans pyjamas in place.
The man with the knife took one look and exclaimed regretfully, ‘Oh! no … Mishtake.’

Monday, October 03, 2005

Fruits of boredom

Seeing as how the up coming exams have granted me study leave to sit home and bore myself to death all day i am currently at my prolific best. (which doesn't really count for much) but which might explain frequent, mind- numbing posts henceforth.

More 55 word thingys that I conjured up in my head but can't be bothered to title:

Anxiously she contemplated the depth of the fall.
Butterflies in her stomach.
Terror in her eyes.
She couldn’t take the unrelenting fear.
It hindered her. It had to stop.
“Jump.” Said the voice.
And she did.
She was falling fast.
Then flying.
Exhilaration.
Her friends cheered as they unhooked her harness.
No longer a batophobic.
*Batophobia is the fear of heights

Her arm linked in his.
She walked towards her lover.
Looking him straight in his teary eye.
She smiled.
He couldn’t believe this was happening.
She looked gorgeous in the gown.
As organ played ‘here comes the bride’
The tears were shed.
He never expected to be blessed with a woman like her.


frontpage hit counter