You can’t control everything. In fact, you can’t control anything. Events, people, time. It’s okay. Be patient.
It might seem as if things won’t work out the way you want them to. And when they do, you won’t like it. It doesn’t matter. Be patient.
Sometimes, the day will slow down. It might even come to a complete standstill. It’ll pass. Be patient.
Other times, your head feels like it would explode. That your troubles won’t end. They will. Be patient.
The nights might feel endless. Your eyes will burn with sleep but you will toss restlessly. You can rest tomorrow. Be patient.
Your day will come. Be patient.
You need to adjust to different situations. Adjust to people. Adjust to their moods. So be flexible.
Don’t be so principled that you don’t see the negative aspects of your actions. You can’t be blind to the effect you have. So be flexible.
You might not like what other people say. You might say something that other people don’t like. So be flexible.
You’re on your own. It’s not going to be easy. So be flexible.
P. S.: Being flexible in bed should help too.
Stay a little while longer, why don’t you? We can continue to have fun.
Sleeping till late and promising to adopt a proper routine soon everyday.
Eating junk food. Trying to control our junk food intake.
Being a complete potato couch. Watching horror movies. Microwaving popcorn and being happy they didn’t come out burnt.
Talking to mom in the kitchen as she cooks. Dreaming about being as good as those kids in MasterChef Junior.
Feeling jealous of the people going abroad for studying. Watching little kids talking like smart adults.
Trying to write more than a couple of whiny tweets. Trying to read the books we bought. Being glued to our cellphone.
Buying pretty clothes. Trying to think of ways to pack them best. Making lists and plans.
Wanting to go to lunch with friends. Writing a bucket list. Putting everything off.
Dancing in the monsoon rain. Getting comfortable on the phone. Thinking things might be okay.
Feeling utterly confused and being too bemused to show it. Pretending we’re okay.
Being utterly terrified and too afraid to show it.
And if you don’t stay…If you go, you take it all with you…
Except the fear.
So take my hand and look me in the eye and tell me you won’t leave me. Tell me you won’t succumb to time.
Tell me you won’t leave me alone with my fear.
Please, August. Stay.
How do you say exactly what’s on your mind? How do you give your listener the exact picture that you’re seeing? That exact array of emotions?
And once another person has heard you, whatever you said becomes toothpaste. You can’t cram the words back in your mouth and swallow them out of existence, no matter how much you want to do so later.
Generally, you have to convince yourself to talk. That talking it out would help you with your problem. You talk yourself into talking. And all the while, your heart pounds like a drum and your throat feels scratchy and you sound squeaky like a boy who hasn’t hit puberty yet.
When you do manage to string two words together and spew them out with sound, it comes out wrong. Of the ocean you want to convey, you barely outline a puddle.
And you realize how futile speaking your mind is. The other person might listen but is not going to understand.
So you trail off, have your palate give your tongue a hug and silently brood on.
Something crashed outside loudly and the hefty wind rattled her window as well. It lit up with flashes and the sound of thunder rolled in a few seconds later. This was followed by a scream that was soon lost in the patter of rain.
She cracked one eye open.
It sounds like the world’s ending, she thought.
She was already cozy in bed and half-asleep. She had a big day tomorrow.
Little did she know there would be no tomorrow.
He looked out the window, mesmerized as always.
The moon was right where it always was: nestled between the two mountains as it cascaded down as a waterfall right into the river below.
The river which was the lifeblood of his people. Without the moon and its light and its magic river, they were nothing.
And mesmerized by this glorious sight, he suddenly began wondering. Where does the moon get its power from? What is the…- no, no! He looked away and drew the curtains, shutting off the glow.
His heart thudded loudly in his chest and his breathe became shortened.
What had he almost done? He must not think this. Not at all!
Memories of stories came back to him now. Told in whispers in the shadows. Horrific tales of how fiercely such matters were dealt with.
These kinds of thoughts were not tolerated and they always found out. That was their sole job, to protect the lifeblood of this people. At all costs. With their lives if necessary and anyone else’s when required. And they were good at it.
He closed his eyes and sank to his knees, leaning against the wall for support. There was a sudden metallic taste in his mouth – there was no place to hide.
From either the thoughts or them.
“Will leave you in the morning
But find you in the day”
Then stay through the night
As you stare at the ceiling
These thoughts of me
A darkness deep
With no ray of light
Nobody to rely on
Nothing else to think of
Except these thoughts of me
All our time together
What could have been
But all that we had
Is all that you threw away
Except these thoughts of me.
No blood in your veins
No taste in your mouth
Everything will break
Everything will be lost
Except these thoughts of me.
Inspired from the song “In My Veins” by Andrew Belle
She arranged her slippers and reminded me of her husband.
Last evening, she was using his walker because her legs were hurting and I was sad again.
This time, though, the tug at my heart strings was for her. She suddenly looked so frail and old and I wondered how many more moments we all have with her…
Tears sprang to my eyes but I held them back. I am good at that.
What I did was fill her jug and put it at the night stand, like Dad reminded me to. Held both her hands and helped her to her bed, ambling along slowly as she had ‘forgotten’ both her stick and walker outside.
Said a little prayer for her. Wrote a blog post.
Last night, I said:
Saying you’ve lost hope and won’t come out in support for such causes is equal to saying they have won.
(Yes, I just quoted myself!) And then, I ‘read’ this:
O’Brien went on:
“[We] cannot be wiped out because it is not an organization in the ordinary sense. Nothing holds it together except an idea which is indestructible. You will never have anything to sustain you, except the idea. You will get no comradeship and no encouragement. When finally you are caught, you will get no help…You will have to get used to living without results and without hope. You will work for a while, you will be caught, you will confess, and then you will die. Those are the only results that you will ever see. There is no possibility that any perceptible change will happen within our own lifetime. We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. But how far away that future may be, there is no knowing. It might be a thousand years. At present nothing is possible except to extend the area of sanity little by little. We cannot act collectively. We can only spread our knowledge outwards from individual to individual, generation after generation…In the face of [all this] there is no other way.”
George Orwell, 1984
And suddenly, so many things make sense. We need to get used to living without hope and without seeing any result, whatever the struggle we are involved in for this country. We need to understand that we are the dead. We need to remember that there is no other way. We need to make sure that we do this for the future, whenever that finally comes.
Everyone is outraged.
Once again, it would seem that justice’s ass has been kicked. The rich have wielded their magic power wand. Money/threat has been used by one group to terrorize the other, weaker one to submit. The law in the country has favored the former. “Our” religion seems to have aided these people in promoting their own agendas.
And so, everyone is rightly outraged.
There is already no hope in/for our country. This was one thing that people believed in. One thing they stood for. One thing that brought them together. And now, with the pardon, it has all been for nothing. With the pardon, the nation supported Shahzeb and his family for nothing! With the pardon, who will ever stand up for justice ever again? With the pardon, who will ever want to stand up for justice again?
Giving up won’t bring you closer to this goal. Ever.
So what if once again the rich’s magic money wand waving has gotten them out of trouble? Saying you’ve lost hope and won’t come out in support for such causes is equal to saying they have won.
We’ll get there, people. One of these days, we will get there. Slow and steady wins the race.
But I understand. Hope is a very fickle thing.