Tag Archives: Life

Trippin on a Tuesday


I seem to always ask myself in moments of sheer clarity, “Who am I” and try to conjure up as many identities as I could.
Woman. Millennial. Muslim. Pakistani. Punjabi. Feminist.
At the top of my head these are some of the identities that I use for myself. Sort of like ribbons i’ve wrapped around my existence.

I ask myself again, Who am I?
The voice replies “nothing”.
It’s like the different ribbons wrapped so tightly around my existence are there in place to hide the fact that I am nothing. It is a dead end oblivion but not particularly the negative one that we attribute to the nihilistic concept of living.

But i’ve learnt with time and of age to undo every ribbon around my existence and unveil a cosmic cluster of nothingness that will slowly dissipate into the void that it belongs to.
A kaleidoscope pattern from the spill of cosmic cluster. The ribbons have come off. I know who I am.
I ask myself again, who are you?
“Nothing and everything”, this time I make a note to say it out loud.

(Acid diaries)

Stillness in abandonment



My parents tell me about their youth. Times that they would like to live again. Memories, back to when they we’re not married. They drape their lives across for us to listen and get a glimpse of how carefree they were. My mother talks about how free she was until she fell in love with a man. A man who made a cage out of false promises and she chose to stay in it. My father talks about how he always meant well but never well enough to hold his ground.
You see?
He had kept the door of the cage open, always. He never believed in chaining someone down.
They don’t ever leave one another; the one free or the one captive. The cage has room for both of them, now. They sit in it with the door open. I think this is what Stockholm syndrome is like.

I learnt the importance of detachment at a young age. My feet are quick to change direction towards an exit even when my heart tells me not to. It’s been long since my heart sounded like mine.
Tiptoeing around the ones I love, biting my nails and avoiding interactions as I make my way out of their heart.
This isn’t a heart, I say to him. This is an iceberg and I push the ones I love off the tip.
My mother taught me to have a hard heart. Having a stone heart is better than having a cold one and if you don’t have one at all? That is the best. Shut them out before they see that you’re just a tangled mesh of nothingness.
A sadist ode to the inner masochist poet.

We’re all tiny galaxies orbiting around the ones we love. We make them our center of attention from time to time. I learnt from the cage she was kept in to know never to stay around anyone longer than their intended purpose in my life. Never slip through into their universe.
A failed union taught me to never let anyone become everything; even when great poets tell me otherwise.
I become watchful of boys who spin cages out of promises that they don’t intend to keep. Boys who tie ropes around your fingers with promises; and my mother still hides the jute marks from her wrists as she talks about love.

I remind myself to always be on guard when it comes to feelings. Never get close enough for people to lure me in with their ropes and cage me.
Practicing on the ones you love is the best way to be perfect at the art of running away. Never getting attached but always making it seem like you’re emotionally dependent on them. This way you can always have someone to love you but never run the risk of collateral emotional damage.
My psychologist calls this “fear of attachment” but I call this, survival in a world where everyone believes that love is a simile for imprisonment.
Because once I knew a boy who told me that his mother refused to leave his abusive father because she loved him. Months later, I saw myself in the same position- very familiar to our conversation. However, I decided to leave because in the end-we’re all just somehow fulfilling the patterns and scripts laid out by our parents.

I decided to break the pattern as my mother talks about how I should have stayed. I wonder if she realizes that love and hurt are not similar. “There is no need to associate the notion of hurt or pain with something so beautiful as love.”, I say, and she dares not look into my eyes.


Being “present” has never been one of my strongest attribute. I like to run away on purpose from people so there is no chance of emotional attachment which can lead to detachment, later on.

Escaping everything and everyone, like a social Houdini.

However, instead of magic tricks I just disappear for days on end because that way I can be friends with the empty space of my room.
Ignoring every attempt that people make to reach out to me with the phrase “I’m busy.”

I’m not busy.
I’m just chugging in sleeping pills and valium with a tenth of whiskey to sleep off whatever it is that is bothering me. Sleep off whatever it is that has been growing inside the pit of my stomach that I have to escape to deal with it but not deal with it, at the same time.

He tells me escapism is a magic trick that is getting old
I say, “Abracadabra” , and smile.

vi) I take two pills with a glass of wine. I realize that I’m getting old and so is this liver. I find myself trying to be careful in the destructive path that I have chalked out for myself.
Shit! I think I might be in love. Because why else would I be so careful?
The next day, he tells me that I’m not as bad as I like to tell the world. I smile knowing that he doesn’t have half the clue or maybe he does and accepts.
What I am in front of people is not who I really am or maybe that is exactly who I am. Someone so volatile, raw and absurd that everyone thinks it’s an act.

A reality mistaken for illusion.

He tells me, I’m more of a habit than a love.
I laugh.
He says, that my attempt to throw people off is forced than natural.
So, I push him and we laugh
He touches my hand
I can feel the ropes tightening on my wrists. The same ones I saw on my mother and warned myself about.


Every man I know searches for a lava heart underneath this iceberg even though I keep on telling them that there isn’t one. They try hammering their name on it.
Freeze their fingers trying to hold it.
Break them off.
I find their attempt at trying to find something real under something false so beautifully heart wrenching, I almost give them a chance.

I run before they realize that I’m not the person they want to freeze over.
Run as soon as their fingers become blue.
Run as soon as I feel the rope creeping up on my wrists.
I say their names like an empty prayer I will soon forget. A prayer that creeps up on your lips only when you realize that “loneliness”, is a word laced with melancholy and wrapped in abandonment.

I leave because the cage door is open and I’m not going to take a chance on captivity by choice. Never by chance.




Wrong Places


I wish to have loved you in another place. Maybe another continent where the sea could run through your veins and you wouldn’t have to worry about drowning. Maybe a place where the air is gentle on our skins and we do not fear it becoming a tornado. Maybe another land where we could have played with the constellations instead of mistaking a fallen star for a drone attack.
I wish to have loved you in another place, another time or another dimension.
All my life they told me to be wary of people who talk sweet but have poison lips. It’s a sacred body described in metaphors. They taught me to stay away from the ones who dare to paint their futures with blood stained hands because the likes of them are dangerous.
Men are dangerous.
Women are deadly.
I’ve been away far too long from those who wore their flaws like medals and declared war on their past to have the future that they painted.
I wish to have loved you in another place where my lips weren’t poison. We didn’t need metaphors to describe our love. I wish to have loved you in another place where the air swept through our pores and the tornadoes didn’t ruin us. A place where we could have played with the stars and your wish on the fallen one would come true. I wish to have loved you before I became one of them, another one from the lot of blood stained hands brewing poetry behind closed doors in an effort to taste freedom.
I have loved you in the wrong places but the time was always right.

The year of realizations


2016 has ended. I’m so glad about it. This has been one of the toughest years, ever. I have two words “tough and tired”. In short I’ve grown up and let people go. I’ve made some new friends along the way. Holy shit, I’ll be 22 in a couple of months (time to put Taylor Swift’s 22 in the background).

Walking down the road I guess this year has taught me a lot in terms of people and managing my relationships. I  feel more grown up and a bit sensible. The year was lingered with  depression, less drugs, more drama and well a lot of passive aggressive emotions mixed with bipolar bouts. Not to mention this summer I got my heart broken just like in 2014.  I think I’m turning more into a mixture of my mum and dad when it comes to loving people. At one point, I don’t want to let go and the other time I can’t wait to run away. Remember, the summers are not lucky for your love trajectory. A part of me is glad that I went through all of it and emerged alive. Heck, there is a lot of fight in me.

School year went by  hectic. Just a lot of projects-Bano, bite as much as you can chew. Never forget this. You always take bigger bites and at a faster pace which sorta just fucks shit up more. Oye! I’m glad you quit that job. I hated it so much but financial security is a bitch once you start working. The new job seems very nice and not to mention it pays good as well. I still can’t manage my finances. Work on that. Be savvy this year with your finances. Friends won’t stick forever so please, fucking learn how to stay alone. I still haven’t finished Anna Karenina (damn you Tolstoy). Unfinished projects will be one of your biggest regrets if I don’t clean up my act. Learn to not push yourself at things that you don’t want to do. It isn’t an obligation to finish something that you started. But it is nice if you do. On a totally unrelated note, why do you understand the pain and frustration of cheating housewives? Like its still weird how you can connect with Anna and Lady Chaterly. Think about it. Is there a pattern to this?

Be responsible and when you know an argument is about to start, please back away. Do not snap at people. Be more polite this 2017. I realized that when you’re truly attached to someone then no matter how much they piss you off? Under half consciousness you’re going to call them out. (Hint: Appendix)

Learn to control your temper. Goddammit! I’m so glad you’re learning how to deal with the fear of you know what. Be strong at wherever it all takes you. Never lose your ground or put down your weapon. Bukowski is still relevant as ever. Books are amazing. Stop fearing what you don’t know and try embracing it as it comes. The thing about life is that it will break you as much as you allow it. The same goes for bitterness in life. It will only impact you as much as you allow it. At the end of the day, you’re in control of everything that happens to you except for natural disasters. Be prepared!

  • Don’t try stupid supplements.
  • Never ever be with someone out of pity or boredom (You know who you’re talking about)

Love? Hahah! Well, remember how 2015 seemed like the year you found love and had a happily ever after? Well fuck that. Summer has been lingered with heart break and rehab sessions. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the fact that you handled it all too well and emerged a bit stronger. Although I know how it fucked you up. Love isn’t meant to hurt you physically or mentally. Keep that in mind the next time you fall in love but I assume it would take a long while. When you miss someone just try going to sleep, read a book or heck! Watch something but do not text them. You haven’t been good with emotional commitments, anyway. I’m still not sure about the crazy rendezvous you have going on the side but I hope it turns out nice. That is the last thing you can expect out of something you’ve stirred in this direction. A lot of times you’re going to fall in love not with a person but your idea of being in love with the person. Learn to differentiate between the two. Allow yourself the love that you shower on other people.

  • Let go of some moments.
  • You’re too controlling.
  • Be a bit more quiet.

You’re still unsure about loving him. Sometimes, love doesn’t have to be the typical Romeo Juliet kind. Sometimes, love can be like the hunchback of Notre-Dame. The year 2016 is just lingered with disappointed love. However, whatever happened is in the past. When love left it kept the door open so expect someone new to walk in. You don’t have to be with someone to show you love them.

I’m glad I am more determined of what I want in life and how I want it. Also, the concept of time is relative so just stop worrying about not having enough time. Love the new tattoo btw. Not sure if I still stick to the belief. I hope your belief in Him gets stronger with time and you get your answers. This year has just been one messy event that I would like to sleep through. The highlight is I’ve finally quit chugging pills and the downside is, I have a long road ahead to figure myself out. Hold on to what is necessary but let go of things that do you more harm than good.

I liked how you spent the year with family and focusing on what you want in life. It’s very rare that I think about life in general and strategize. People change so learn to deal with it. Pretty sure I’ve changed drastically over the year as well.

Will I be okay? I think.

Will I learn to live with this? Yes

Will I survive 2017? Let’s see!

2016 you taught me well. 2017 I hope you’re kinder.

2 hours till the new year, time to open that bottle!



I’m not good at letting things so. I guess that is why I try not to get attached. Attachment means vulnerability and I’ve never liked being vulnerable. Sometimes; it means exposing the galaxies inside your chest but how can I if mine is a black hole? I have no justification for what I do at times. The constant manic cycles that leaves you bloodied. Running back to you on lonely nights just to howl outside your door. At one point in time I thought I knew what love was like. It smelt like your cologne and cigarettes. Love tasted like tobacco and caffeine. Love felt a lot like shutting the world out on rainy days. Love was sneaking around with the adrenaline pumping through our veins. It was stolen. Our love was always stolen and sneaky. It was a chase. I still have no justification for leaving.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m not able to let go of you or the feeling of love?

Life taught me love


I have learnt
Loving and living aren’t so different
Both need commitment and time
You need to put in effort
Until, it becomes involuntary
So on days where you don’t feel like breathing
Your lungs refuse to give up
And just so
Loving someone is the same
On days when you feel like leaving
Someone ought to hold you back

No going back

As I grow old, a part inside has become deeply aware of time. It is not something that I am surrendering to consciously but rather, it is very unconscious. I’m becoming more conscious of how I spend my time and the people I spend my time with. Counting my days is easy, heck I’m just 21 years old. My accomplishments as a person have started to define me. I am the product of all that I have conquered. This includes my fear of the dark .
Victory small or big is still victory.
Growing up is not fun but it’s the only choice I have. I cannot go back in time so just as well go forward.
“Age is just a number”, this is a tiny piece of wisdom that usually pops up when discussing the relativity of time.
But how do I sweep my realizations and regrets under the rug that came with time and of age.
Time, however, can be on your side. I’ve learnt this. I have also learnt that a single moment can cause inevitable changes forever.
You know how when you’re drifting off to sleep and this sudden sensation of falling down hits you? So you jolt out of your dream into reality.
That sudden plunge feels like eternity but in reality is just a micro-second.
Sometimes I feel that becoming aware of time is a sudden plunge. Because, I’ve always been more carefree than I would like to admit.
My friends are growing up and people are changing. I have no definite plan for the future. It used to be scary but now, it is not.
I know that I’m falling right now but eventually I will wake up.

Modest Mistakes


In the bazaar
My mother and I
Were crossing the road
When three boys
Went right past us
And one of them
Let out
Big Shout
I did not move
Because, I’m a bit slow
When it comes to processing events
My mother, however
Was startled
I opened my mouth to curse at them
But then she clenched my hand
And it was a sign
Not to

I learnt where this instinct comes from
And I know why she stopped me
My mother has been taught by her mother
To never be a retaliator
Heck, never be an initiator
And she taught me this that moment, as well

I learnt that this has been passed down to us
Because as soon as our daughters learn to walk
With their back straight
We try to bend it down
Shame and compromise are stuffed down our throats
Before we learn to speak

I learnt that this cycle will never end
Because I’ve been scripted to belong
Not to myself
But to someone else
I am someone’s

I learnt that there is no visible way out
Society gets to label me
My own gender does
Like my mother
I was taught
“To be good and quiet”
Each level defined
Belonging in the grey zone
No black or white
What those boys did
They might have forgotten

But, today
Things were made clear
That in the act of brining this generation up
We have repeated the same mistake
The mothers of our mothers made
Letting it slide under the pretext
“Boys will be boys”
And slowly but gradually
We successfully managed
To bend
Our daughters back

Goddammit Time


Life and time are two concepts that are deeply intertwined. It is almost impossible to grasp the concept of one and leave the other behind. Life isn’t very cinematic. Someone’s heartbreak is another person’s freedom. I believe that there are countless heartbreaks happening this very minute. But the sky didn’t tear open and neither did the mountains shook. Life went about its business and other people barely noticed that you’re crumbling. It’s okay though. Life isn’t a movie to begin with. We’re all very metaphorical in our pain. I learnt it the hard way. There were no grandiose elements that signified major transitions in my life. It was all very quiet and sometimes subtle. People went on with their business. I went on with my routine too, never acknowledging that someone might be in pain.
This realization makes life easy. It means we have control over things without reaping havoc. Control is a form of strategic chaos, as I say. So, we have control and power to determine our course. Precisely that moment is your key to take charge. It can be 4am in the morning, when all you want to do is catch some sleep before routine starts. It can be 6pm too when you’re driving back home from work. It isn’t a God damn film where everything points to something rather significant. Kids these days need to stop believing in that sugar coated bullshit. The moment is very random and probably dull. But one thing isn’t dull in the moment and that is you.
You decided to take charge of your life. There were no cinematic elements in it, but it was the moment that transitioned you into a better person or maybe a bad person.

Either way, best of luck with it!

Growing up I was a boy


Women are supposed to be gentle and kind. Men do not have to be gentle or kind. Women are taught to compromise. The higher a man’s ego, the better it is. Women are not meant to be loud. Being barbaric is in the nature of men.
Shameless women are shunned out by the society. It is okay if men don’t exhibit shame. Women are taught guilt before they learn about love. Men are taught to suppress their feelings before they learn about love.

I wonder where we went wrong in the process of bringing our children up.

We labelled them before they could even learn to walk.