A personality report

I took this personality test on Facebook; those of you who wish to know me or who already know me and wish to see how questions and answers lead to an analysis of my personality can view it here: “>My Personality Report

It’s very interesting, try reading it once! It’s long but I enjoyed and it can lead to an interesting discussion with the subject being:

ME!

Spam me!

*Khamoshian ye seh na sakoon…awaz de ke mujhay tu day ja sukoon* playing in the background

How wonderful would it be if we could Select: All, None, Read, Unread, Starred, Unstarred memories and past mistakes, click on Delete Forever (imagine forever! FOREVER! sigh) and life congratulates and celebrates with us:

Hooray, no spam here!

I have no idea what I’m writing…

I’ve never liked re-reading something I’ve written. Too insecure, too cowardly-whatever you wanna call it. But I was just thinking that even though I’ve never visited my archives, I’m pretty sure that I’ve never really blogged in a good mood. Upset, definitely; depressed beyond belief, certainly; nostalgic, many atimes; maybe even normal sometimes but never happy, never excited.

I’m sure it might not come across as that bad since my lowest form of wit emerges a lot when I’m upset and can be funny at times so my blog doesn’t seem like a “whineboard” as some people might call it. lol. But it has been like that and I’m sad about it.

 One day when I’m sixty, old, toothless, terribly nostalgic and digging old graves and new, I might want to return to this blog and re-discover the 19-20 year old Sana. And what would that poor old hag find? Someone as depressed, as disturbed and as sick in the head as the old nagging woman of the 2050s. May my soul rest in peace, I’m sure the doppelganger in the blog wouldn’t help the dying woman in any way.

Tsk tsk and sigh…

Pictorial

Oh, I’ve been taking a lot of photographs recently ever since my brother gifted me with a new phone with a pretty decent camera…here are a few since I have nothing better to do than wait for them to upload and make my blog pretty and colorful.

All those blues…

I’ve reached the conclusion that sitting farigh has hazardous effects on my mental and physical health. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been really busy with college; attending make-up classes which ended after 5 almost every day, doing assignments, taking exams, fretting about, making and finally giving presentations, coming home around 6:30-7 almost every other day and feeling very important when treated kindly by my family since ‘I’ve been working so hard.’ Lol.

I’ve been loving the fretting, the complaints and the work itself. I finally feel like I’m learning new things, I’m making something out of my life, I’m gaining experiences which will stay with me at least awhile. I don’t feel as useless as I’ve been for a long time. I’m not being as lazy as I have always been (not pysically though-according to a recent report by my Ma, I sit, lie down, and crouch on the sofa 24 hours a day and it’s doing my nokain no good!).

Today, after weeks, the old Sana has been haunting me. Even though when I got up in the afternoon, lol, I made my bed, raced through the washroom with a wiper and did a thing here and there, I’ve been sitting idle for most of the time. Even though I have one exam and a test in the coming week, didn’t really feel like studying at all though I tried and even opened my books! Lol. But all in vain, since didn’t know what I felt like doing. I kept chanting to myself a list of things: Words and Images, Volpone, Huckleberry Fin, blogging, magazine, Creative Writing, response papers, maybe Eleven Minutes hi, eating some dessert, Gone with the Wind, watching TV, sitting online, starting a new book, watching a movie.

And then the chant is repeated again and yet again but I don’t feel like doing anything out of it at all.

Obviously after all this, depression is bound to sink in. I’m feeling low, thinking about nothing in particular; one specific thing haunts me day in day out but that’s nothing new. I’m just sad. Over nothing. Over everything.

Maybe I should go out and drive. Maybe I should go to a cousin’s place. Maybe I should eat something and feel better. Maybe I should run away. Maybe I should talk to somebody on the phone.

Nothing. Nobody. No place.

A quick post!

So! Back to bnu and writin a lil again! Had to write a short story of 750 words for my creative writing class but as usual went waaaay beyond that…also, was stayin at a cuzins place da night before the story was due so wrote it in an hour or so…pretty cliched and borin..but I tohught Id preserve it here..

AND FOR GODS SAKE, SOMEBODY COMMENT! I HATE YOU ALL FOR MAKIN ME SEEM LIKE A 90 YEAR OLD HAG WHO THINKS SHE HAS A LOT TO SAY BUT ENDS UP TALKIN MOSTLY TO HERSELF! UGH

A GRAVE MAN

“What? Ma, you’re kidding, right?” I looked at my mother in wonder, and tried to recall what date it was since, for some very bizarre reason, I thought an April Fool prank was being played on me. I gazed strangely at my mother because it wasn’t the first of April, nor anywhere near it.

My mother seemed almost paralyzed with grief, or maybe she was just in denial, so she spoke absent mindedly, “Of course not, jana, he lied to you about why he couldn’t come to your wedding. Apparently he was then in England for this. Are you going to go see him, hun?” She raced a limp hand through her silvery hair and then scratched the back of her neck distractedly.

I gave an incredulous shake of the head, ignoring my mother’s ludicrous question. I tried to formulate my thoughts but all that raced through my head were the last couple of months in various brief flashbacks. The Coke-fights in the last days of college, the slumber parties (though we called them night-overs because slumber parties sounded too teenage-girly), the ‘study group sessions’, the recent craze of memorizing Shakespeare and then trying his verses on every random girl, the pursuit and the wooing of Aaima and how Rayan had acted as the intermediary between us, how happy he had been when Aaima and I had finally hooked up, and how he had played such a huge part in bringing us together by going up to her family and talking to them directly. And all this time…all this time, I was being kept in darkness. And then finally, I swallowed thickly, that asshole had disappeared just before the wedding on the pretext that his parents had decided to file for a divorce and he wanted to go to Sialkot to try knock some sense into their heads. You lied, Rayan, you son of a bitch, you lied! You ass, ass, ass, you lied!

My insides were on fire as I groped my way out of the room blindly and rushed towards the main door. My mother’s distracted voice floated out of the living room. “Don’t tell Aaima, jana. Newly wed and face such a trauma?!”

I raced out of the house and dashed towards my Toyota. During the drive, I couldn’t articulate my thoughts as memories and apprehensions and fear and disbelief assaulted me. Finally I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer and decided my distraught mother’s word wasn’t enough to convince me and it just couldn’t be true. Period. Nothing in the world, save God or Rayan himself, could make me believe this inconceivable fiendish lie.

As I drew closer to his house, I realized I wasn’t frightened or worried anymore. I was just plain angry. So livid my cheeks were on fire and my burning crimson ears felt like they would melt away and the fury would spill out, scalding away the lie and setting aflame the liars.

Fuming, I rushed inside his house without knocking and yelled.“RAYAN! RAYAN! Where you? Move your fat ass and step right in front of me! I wanna see you walk, talk and kick my ass! RAYAN! Show yourself.”

Rayan’s father rushed out from the bedroom at the end of the hall to scream at the offender who was responsible for all the clamor. He stopped short when he saw me and took a deep breath. “Ali.” Just a statement, expressionless, quiet.

I smiled at him warmly and went up to him. “Assalmu Alaikum, Uncle. How are you? Where’s that dim wit? I heard the craziest…but forget it. I’ll just go talk to him directly.”I ignored the sob that I think I heard as I passed Uncle and went into the room he had come from.

Rayan was lying on his bed, just as I had seen him lie there so many times. I avoided looking at his weeping mother in the corner and went up straight to him. Up close, I thought his face looked ashen and his eyes sunken. I closed my eyes and almost whispered.

“Wassup, dawg?” I was adamant. Today wasn’t going to be different at all. I had been mimicking Bugs Bunny since the days we had watched those cartoons in the very same room for long hours all those years ago and now I had said it again just as I had said so a gazillion times before.I heard him smile as he spoke.

“Nothing much. Heard the latest?” I could imagine his eyes lighting up with humor and I hated him for his wit at that moment.

“No. Enlighten me.”

“Oh c’mon man! You know. Admit it.” He said playfully. I opened my eyes and glanced at him sharply. One look at my wild crazy eyes and Rayan sobered.

 “You know it.” He whispered again and looked at me straight in the eye.

My arms fell to my side and I stared at him, sitting there, propped up by several pillows, looking at me earnestly. “No.” My voice was firm.

“Ali. Look at me. See it.” Rayan was worried now.

“I can’t. I won’t.” I warned him.

He looked at me and smiled encouragingly. “Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. You know that. We’ve agreed upon it.”

“No. Not till you say it. You can’t. Don’t.” I pleaded, begged, implored.

Rayan got that look back in his eyes as he saw the realization dawning on me. He smiled impishly and said, “But of course not, my knight. It’s your battle. Fight it.”

I was furious and skeptical, calm and incredibly terrified all at once. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why?”

“Aiwaiinn.” He beamed. “Why ruin your wedding?”

“Are you bloody fucking crazy? Are you? What’s a frickking wedding compared to…compared to this?” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

He smirked and shook his head just as he had shaken it so many times when he used to think I was being extremely stupid. Unexpectedly, when he spoke, his smirk faltered. “Actually, I wasn’t too awesome at accepting it either. Took my time doing that and then my guts just failed me. I’m sorry!” His face was grave and (was that my imagination?) his voice quivered a little. 

 I massaged my stiff neck, looked at him long and hard, clenched my fist tightly and rubbed my stinging eyes before asking the question. “How much more time?”

For a split of a second, Rayan’s eyes clouded over while his face maintained that obstinate annoying smile. I could see his own brief, yet mighty battle being fought and though his roguishness won as usual, that split of a second drowned me in the realization and truth of the approaching imminent doom and I cried out loud before he spoke teasingly.

“Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man.” 

God is the Light…

I know most of you must have heard this nasheed and might know the lyrics. (In case somebody doesn’t here’s a link for it u can find many different nasheeds here).

Anyway, I was just listening to the nasheed and thought of puttin up the lyrics since I love the poetry. So here’s to uncle Yusuf Islam!

God is the Light
How great the wonder of the heavens
And the timeless beauty of the night
How Great, then how Great, the Creator?

And its stars like priceless jewels
Far beyond the reach of kings
Bow down for the shepherd guiding him home

Yet how many hearts are closed?
To the wonder of this night
Like pearls hidden deep
Beneath a dark stream of desires

But like dreams vanish with the call to prayer
And the dawn extinguishes night
Here too, are signs
God is the Light!
God is the Light!

How great the beauty of the Earth
And the creatures who dwell on her
How Great, then how Great, the Creator?

As its mountains pierce the clouds
High above the lives of men
Weeping rivers for thousands of years

Yet how many eyes are closed?
To the wonder of this sight
Like birds in a cage
Asleep with closed wings

But like words stop with the call to prayer
And the birds recite
Here too, are signs
God is the Light!
God is the Light!

How great the works of man
And the things he makes
How Great, then how Great, the Creator?

And though he strives to reach the heavens
He can barely survive
The wars of the world he lives in

Yet how many times he’s tried?
Himself to immortalize
Like his parents before him
In the Garden of Eden

But like the sun sets with the call to prayer
And surrenders to the night
Here too, are signs
God is the Light Everlasting!
God is the Light Everlasting!
God is the Light Everlasting!
God is the Light Everlasting!

Do you ever get constipated?

I hope the animation works coz I’ve never tried uploading stuff. Lol. I got this thing from a cousin’s cell phone and exported it to my PC…heeh…ENJOY!

P.S. it’s gross, I know. I just felt like uploading something on my blog since I’ve never done that and since most of the pics I have are of people I can’t paste worldwide, I picked this one! Hehe

Musings…

A lot has been going on recently. A very dear ”A” of mine recently got Nikkahed very suddenly. I was really happy for her and still am, for I really like her guy (I know him). But then this huge controversy,conspiracies, wild rumors, white lies, spread like wildfire in my very well-connected and extremely peace-loving family and I was left stunned as to who to believe and what. I, too, (I’m very regretful to say) got carried away in the beginning and discussed the rumors exhaustively. I revelled in the idea of being thoroughly misled and deceived by a certain someone, obviously enjoying the idea of being the innocent victim who is so good she can’t see the dark side of other people. I may be exaggerating how I was feeling here but tis the gist. I was, though, scared the entire time, knowing I was doing Gumaan about other people and putting unwarranted Buhtaan but still not stopping myself. Later that night, I sought forgiveness from Allah. I sat and thought about the entire matter with a clear objective head and I decided to give the benefit of the doubt to the person I thought I knew so well. I decided to trust my own judgement of her (though some people and Certain Someones would readily not!) and I decided to accept her as innocent until proven guilty.

Today I’m proud of my choice.

Neway, this was the hot topic in my life for a few days. After that came the blessed happiness of the darn passport of Hub dearest. Lol. It finally arrived Al-Hamdulillah after months and weeks and days and mornings and tahajjud times and rozas and hours of waiting. Allah finally blessed me with what I, my family, my husband, my relatives, all had been pleading, and begging and fighting and supplicating for. Lol. Last night he left. InshaAllah he will be working in a few dayz Al-Hamdulillah.

I talked to his mother today. She seemed upset, a bit lonely and worried that he reach there safe and sound. I was discussing with her how things are now tht he has left and she said that of course the house feels empty and lonely, his brothers and sister seem very quiet today, but everything will be fine in a few days as they gradually adjust to his absence.

While talking to her and afterwards, I was thinking how adaptable  man is! Allah has created us in such a way that we all learn to survive with or without Significant Someones. Though the thought kills before the actual absence occurs, but after it does, life seems to take a new turn and keep moving. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean we ever forget our Significant Someones and loved ones. We just learn to live without their phyical presences. If somebody else chooses to let go of old memories, that’s their way, but I am made to cling onto old memories and keep hoping and praying for new ones.

But still! I can’t keep wondering at how dispensable man is! I’m not referring to how dispensable human life has become. It is a different issue that we have become totally immune to the losses of human life, be they great in number  or  totally ‘insignificant’, but the truth is that they have ceased to affect us in any way. I remember a time when my heart used to sink at the news of a single person dying, when I used to give a full few minutes to imagine how his/her family must be taking it, how it must have felt, what would be happening to him/her now. But everyday now I hear about various suicide bombings, bridges falling, people dying and I don’t even pay full attention to the Breaking news.

Neway, though all this is important of course, right now I was referring ot the way man himself is dispensable. When a beloved lives, we cry at the very thought of ever being separate from that person geographically. And then if Death comes wheezing in and sweeping away everything that remained, we cry a few buckets and then keep on living. Finally a time comes when we think that that person, and the portions of our lives with that person, never existed-as if it was all a dream.

I have discussed my own death with a lot of people. I know the ones who will be tortured by my death, and the ones whose eyes will pop out at hearing bout it but probably not give me a dua after the “hot news” dies down a week later. And I realize there will be a few who will quietly wipe their tears under the covers at night, afraid of coming out in front of everybody to grieve over my death, revealing that they, too, had cared for me while I was alive. Most probably, if I will be told after my death, that these people cried, I will go in profound shock.

Life is very funny…even funnier is death,which kicks out all the humor of life and settles in with its perpetual darkness (or light, hopefully!) 

As usual, I have much strayed from the topic I started off with. But at least I’ve penned down my musings on digital paper after a long time so all’s good!

I wish I knew how to end this post…lets just do a summary..A’s Nikkah, my treachery, Uzers passport, his mom, suicide bombings, dispensability of man and human life, my death and my secret well-wishers!

Now am I a versatile writer or what???

MAN!

Back to Heaven…

BNU opened Al-Hamdulillah Al-Hamdulillah bringing with it the tooti phooti routine that I had much sought in the vacations. Along with the routine came many of the things I had forgotten existed in BNU. Yet another semester has begun, revealing the blatant disorganization of the administration, the clothes (or non) of the BNU-ites, the sudden shouts and snickers and snorts during a lecture, the whining monotonous voices of those who argue and talk just for the sake of wasting the time, trying to be witty and funny. Everything came rushing back in a day and two and the mini Jamia Hafsa (the late Talibans) stood awed and humbled at the on-goings.As is usual at the beginning of each semester when we all realize in what a dump we are studying, TT decided to drop out of college and S thundered in with a super religious zeal and million of practical ideas of how to transform BNU into a madressa and bring about a world revolution. Mini Jamia Hafsa (JH) has successfully recruited a.k.a brainwashed a new member whom I will, hereafter, refer to as QQ. QQ has recently started taking the hijab and as obvious, is doing a bit of Jihad and winning MashaAllah as she stands strong with the iron support of her Niqabi girlfriend, the Tote.

A week has passed since BNU opened and I still don’t think I have returned to college. Mostly it’s because, being the super-organized college BNU is, our classes for the first week were scheduled at all the wrong times, the timetables dint match, we had some classes and for the others, the teachers refused to come. So in this chill, I didn’t feel like BNU had begun.

Today, though, I went to college and found it the BNU we all know and love(BY we, I mean you and me, since you have known it through me and I’m sure you’ve fallen in love with it by now too, no?). The college was full of BNU-ites. As literature students, we are blessed with the status of the reclusive outcasts so we normally don’t have much interaction with BNU-ites. But today, since we had a mixed class of different majors and semesters, the Pakistan Studies class was thriving with 26 BNU-ites (minus the mini JH of course! lol) all of different colors (thanks to the bases and foundations used!), different creeds, ages and mental  and maturity levels.

My tolerance has moved down from zero to negative in the past couple of days. I’m not only less tolerant of BNU and its ites, but also of the peculiarties and eccentricity of my own friends. No, it’s not u TT aunty; though u shud have an idea who I’m talking about.

Neway to conclude in one line:

 It’s just excellent, being back in BNU!