‘Look, there, that way!’

‘Where?’ Asked, she.

‘Oh come on! Can’t you see, that’s him!!!’

‘There is no one there’, she sighed.

Obviously there is no one.

He moves like Flash.

He is here one instant, gone the next.

His mind ever- wandering.

I have tried asking him where he goes away to?

His hideout in a hideous world.

But he doesn’t answer.

I think, maybe he is going away again.

But wait, I just reached you, David!

Don’t you go away again.

He looks away.

‘I wish I could stay. Give you everything, my love.

But you don’t understand.

I need alone. I will find my way back to you’, he says.

‘I’ll wait,’ I shout after him.

I can see him walk away.

Old t-shirt, its print faded.

Dark blue ripped denims.

Big- foot sneakers.

See him walk away into the sun.

Makes you almost wish that he turns around.

That he run back to you, hold you.

And say, ‘tie me to you.’

But he won’t. He can’t.

‘Let him go’, I hear her say.

‘But don’t you understand, I love him.

How can I let him go?’

‘Because he doesn’t belong to you’, she said.


Daughters of Arabia

Ahoj Fellas!!!

That was my greeting in the first post of this blog. I am using it again because writing after so many months is probably as good as starting anew. I was on a sabbatical (still not sure what that means)!

I am sorry for not have written in a long time. My mind has been wandering a lot of different places to have ordered it to sit at one place and pen thoughts down.I am also sorry to my one and only patron who probably has gotten tired of even complaining that I don’t write anymore. Apologies in abundance!

To sum up the last few months, of which I have spent a lot on reading…

1. To start with I was busy with my Semester 5 final exams which did require me to be glued to my desk and chair for at-most 6 hours a day. But which I miserably, miserably failed to adhere to.

2. As soon as that finished, I forego going home for the one festival that I have never managed to miss in my 19 years of existence (OK, I must be lying about my age, but that’s because I am growing OLD!!!). DIWALI! But then again I was scheduled to start my internship with Ista Hotels. Trust me, working with 5 star hotels is LUXURY!

3. That done I rushed home. Made a quick dash to Diu, enjoyed home and was back in Pune. Since then I have practically spent most of time reading or outside with ‘my Realistic guy’ (controversially I don’t yet know if I can call him ‘my guy’).

So moving forward, you must have realized that my blog post’s title reads ‘Daughters of Arabia’. That has more to do with the fact that I have spent a good amount of time reading about the Middle East these last couple of months. It started with reading ‘The Convert’, a book by Deborah Baker, which is a biography about a Jewish woman, living in NYC who converts to Islam and moves to Pakistan because ‘she never felt more at home even in her own house’. It is a tale of a ‘Jewish girl from Larchmont who became an Islamic polemicist.’ Just the fact that someone living in NYC could shun away that life and move to Pakistan to pursue Islam was intriguing enough for me to pick up the book.

Then it was onto Jean Sasson’s ‘Desert Royal’ having previously read her book ‘Daughters of Arabia’. It is the story about Princess Sultana who is distressed at the state of women in her country, Saudi Arabia. The women in Arabia who are have consistently suffered injustices at the hands of a patriarchal society.

Somewhere in between these two books, I also happened to read Carmen Bin Laden’s ‘The Veiled Kingdom’. Carmen Bin Laden also happens to be Osama bin Laden’s sister- in- law, married to his younger brother, with whom she later fought a bitter divorce battle over the custody of her girls.

Having read much about the oppression of women in the Middle East I am determined to keep reading more about these countries and their histories in the view of finding answers to a very simple question.
Why is Islam one of the most misunderstood religions in the world?

Something in the middle of the night prompted me to pen down a few lines about these oppressed women and the efforts of a few people to get them the justice they so truly deserve. One amongst them being Princess Sultana, the protagonist from Jean Sasson’s Princess Trilogy books.

I wouldn’t expect everyone to understand much from the following lines, but I would hope it would prompt a few of you at the least to read about it. So I am leaving you with these lines…

Daughters of Arabia

She was born in the veiled kingdom,

Her black burqa her identity,

She saw the world through a mist of darkness,

Alas! She was never too happy.

She dreamt of  foreign lands,

Of open spaces and colorful dresses,

She longed an escape.

But that was not to be so.

She was distressed,

Even though life around her was a tale of opulence and luxury,

But her heart longed freedom,

For herself and for all the women of her land.

It broke her heart to see the state of women,

Broken, raped, abused,

Forced to lead lives no better than sex slaves,

Oppressed into submission by their own fathers and brothers.

She knew she was put on earth for a greater purpose than acceptance.

She rebelled because she wanted change.

She knew she could help women, set them free.

For she too was born in the veiled kingdom, but lived in a gilded cage.

For she was but a princess.

Much love


Find Reasons to be Happy :-D

So, I came across this poem a while back and have been meaning to post it for quite sometime. But haven’t gotten around to doing it mainly for 2 reasons: 1. I have been preoccupied with college work and the people in my life; 2. My net hasn’t been working which, honestly, I borrow from someone (without their knowledge) 😛 !!!

Lately, the people in my life have been going through some tough situations, and I have tried my level best to be there for them and to see them through the mess. But now I have run out of advice. I am clueless when one of them asks me to soothe them. Honestly, I don’t know what to do anymore. My reserve of sympathy and advice and my capacity to help out seems to have dried out. I don’t like it but I don’t see an option. I am trying very hard to be there, but you know how at the end of the day, how much ever you try to help out, everyone has to fight their own battles.

All I can say to them is find reasons to be happy. Don’t look at the dark side and shed silent tears. Your life is too short and your tears too precious to be spent in vain. Be happy for all those people who are still around you. Live life with them. Because when you’re drowning in your own misery, you may just not know that there are others who are fighting greater battles than you are. So stop being all sad, look around, take time out to ask people around you how they have been, laugh your ass off at the depressing joke your even more depressing friend just cracked, look at the sun set and be happy that it will come back tomorrow. Enjoy all while you still have it, lest you lose even that in your self induced misery. Love will happen again. Till then bask in the glory of the amazing friendships you have built.

And for someone else, how do you know when you’re in love? You just know. Because it’s the best thing that has happened to you in a long time. And you don’t want to say goodbye, ever.

I am leaving you with the poem. Its is called I Wish You Had Never Come Back. Not exactly that great, but at the time it was a plea for someone to not come back and take away what was so precious to me. Its been a while since then and I felt like sharing it with you folks. Hope you have a good read. Miss me till my next post :-P.

I Wish You Had Never Come Back

I wish I could have it all back.

I wish I could turn back time.

I wish you had never come back,

to take what was most precious,

away from me.

I hate you for doing that to me.

I hate you for doing that to him.

I wish you had never come back.

While you were gone,

I was the pillar of strength,

I was the shoulder to cry on,

I was the one to hold.

While you were gone.

I guess, I should have seen this coming.

I should have known all along that this would end.

I should have known that you would come back.

I should have.

And you ain’t coming back to me.

I know that for sure.

Coz now you’re gone,

away for the good.

With someone you would be happy with.

I know that for sure.

I will miss you and me.

I will miss us together.

But more than that,

I will miss you with me.

And, I wish you had never come back,

to take what was most precious,

away from me.

I hate you for doing that to me.

I hate you for doing that to him.

I wish you had never come back.

Time Travel

Well last night, speaking to someone I came across a poem I had written long back (Ok, not that long back. It was December, 2010 🙂 ). I had forgotten about it. But re- reading it last night, touched a nerve somewhere. There is something about that poem that just makes me smile. You know how when you are re- read things later and you look back at the time when you wrote it, there is something that made you want to write, a memory, an instance, a person, an event, a wish or something else – all that just comes back to you. It’s like time travel!

I am a Cancerian and I have the characteristic retentive memory of a typical Cancerian. So whenever I miss something, it just takes me a reading of an old poem or a letter and it all comes flooding back. I may not even remember writing about it, but once I do read it, I can recall each and every emotion and expression associated with it. Sometimes it’s weird, to recall everything in such vividness, because those times you don’t want to.

So if you ever feel like you need a remember a moment, a person or a feeling – write about it. Because there is no better way to preserve it. And when, maybe 10 years down the line, you smile because of the memory, all you’ll have to do is read. And you’ll be there, experiencing it all over again. And there is just nothing that you compare to the smile on your face accompanied by a slight tightness in your throat.

Only two weeks since he had left, and it was already happening. Time, blunting the edges of those sharp memories. She bore down mentally. What had he said? It seemed vital, suddenly, that she know.

She closed her yes. Concentrated.

With the passing of time she would slowly tire of this exercise. She would find it increasingly exhausting to conjure up, to dust off, to resuscitate once again what was long dead. There would come a day, in fact, years later, when she would no longer bewail his loss. Or not as relentlessly; not nearly. There would come a day when the details of his face would begin to slip from memory’s grip, when overhearing a mother on the street call after her child by Tariq’s name would no longer cut her adrift. She would not miss him as she did now, when the ache of his absence was her unremitting companion like the phantom pain of an amputee.

Every once in a long while, when she was a grown woman, ironing a shirt or pushing her children on a swing set, something trivial, maybe the warmth of a carpet beneath her feet on a hot day or the curve of a stranger’s forehead, would set off a memory of that afternoon together, and it would all come rushing back. It would flood her, steal her breath. But then it would pass. The moment would pass. Leave her deflated, feeling nothing but a vague restlessness.

~ A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini

So this is the poem. It’s about something past, that was good. And how, not having gotten closure about it, leaves a certain kind of mystery and a chance to imagine what might have been. So this is to that memory.

 I Miss You!

It’s become a thing of the past

But I still hold on

Something makes me.

It’s like a stranger in the night

Comforting, yet unknown.

Standing alone thinking about it

It’s peaceful remembering it

A part of me, wants me to get it back

I may, if I try

But it doesn’t matter anymore

This feels true.

Things left unsaid, a mystery around it

Gives me the chance to try my imagination

And make it into something better

Something that it could have been

Something that I want it to be

Its better this way.

Looking at you from a distance

Gives me a chance to miss everything that used to be

I try to point out the part when things fell apart

Then something reminds me, it never did

I know when you look at me,

That you miss me

At least I think you do

Makes me feel good to see I can still affect you

To see you walk away when I enter

To see you still notice

You miss me, don’t you?

But don’t say it

Don’t say it and break the illusion. that might be.

Don’t explain it, don’t justify

I like it better this way

I try to hide that your presence does nothing to me

That’s not true

You know that

When you walk in, there is a slight ache

There are times, when I want to walk up to you

And just kiss you, to see you react

In my mind, you kiss me back

But that ain’t going to happen

Coz I am not walking towards you

I am walking away.

Come behind me, grab me

Tell me you missed me

I’ll forgive and forget

Never ask for an explanation

But then let it be.

I am in mood to write after a long time

Maybe its coz I know you’ll never come

That gives me the depth to write

As I haven’t written in a while

Maybe you’re the reason I am, today

So don’t come back

I like it this way

P.S. Thinking of you by Christian Kane is playing in the background. 🙂


A Cancerian 69

To Where It All Began

“Go back to where everything starts for you. Write from there.” One of my  friends gave me this, so I am going to start to write from here exactly. Mind  you, having you to come up with posts for a blog is a lot of pressure. Coming up with things to write is not an easy task. At least I can’t  come up  with interesting things or even simple words to write, everyday.  That has  been one of my major fears when starting a blog. I just don’t feel  creative  every day. So when one of my friends suggested this, it was a  breath of  relief.

So this is how it all began.

I can’t precisely pinpoint the time when I started writing. I guess these things just happen. A broken heart, a loss of a dear friend or a parent, a   rebellion, a revolt, a farewell – is enough to get us to write, to bare our  deepest emotions to the world. It’s an attempt to give the residual feelings  a definitive form, a way to reach out, a way to remember all that is past, a way to make a wish, a demand or even vent anger, remorse or frustration.

As far as memory serves, the first time I seriously wrote, was for another friend who was going through a bad break up. I was sitting in my English class, form 11. Our teacher was reading Julius Caesar to us and I was scribbling away on a piece of paper, obviously too distracted to listen, when words became a sentence and sentences became a stanza. It was a feeling so intense, because somehow that incident had made a mark on me too. My teacher saw me write something, came over, and leaned in to see what I was doing and when he figured I was writing a poem, he walked away with a smile saying ‘Let me read it when it is done.’ That was one hell of a supportive English teacher. He has helped edit a lot of articles and poems ever since. So that is how I got my first poem done! It required a lot of edits after that, but still that was the first time I actually started writing.

After that, throughout my high school I was a steady writer. I wrote a lot of poems, primarily. But I have always felt that I need a certain intensity in my feelings, in my reactions, to put them into words. That time, those 2 years of high school, were something of a turmoil period for me. A lot of changes, a state of constant confusion, rebellion, a reason to break free, peer pressure, relationships going wrong –almost everything that can go wrong for a teenager! I am not very proud of that stage, but it happened, and majority of what I have written till date is from that time.

After that I came to Pune and life has just gone by. I have no idea where the 2 years in Pune have disappeared. I guess they were happening when we were going for long bike rides, were having coffee at 2 in the morning sitting on the footpath outside CCD, when we were busy fighting over drinking habits, when we were too egotistical to talk to each other, when we fell in love, when we fell out of love. When we realized how life and love works, when we got wet in the rain, when we stayed up all night because we hadn’t done it in a while and because we weren’t going to see each other after that, the first beer, the first high and the first smoke – that is when life happened. But come to think of it, it’s only when the end draws near that you are forced to think of how much time has passed since the beginning and of the long way that you have come.

I seem to be deviating, so getting back to 2 years in Pune, I haven’t written much during this time, because I was busy living it 🙂 . And after a while you learn to accept feelings and emotions (I have no idea what is the difference between the two) for what they are. And outlets to vent anger, disgust, frustration or helplessness change to other more mature forms (pseudo-mature, more like it).

So I will leave you with that first poem of mine. Be easy on it. It was just the first (but maybe one of my best) !

P.S. This aforementioned friend is one of the oldest friends that I have treasured for so many years. She has been a friend since as far as I can remember. We still refer to each other as ‘my best friend since KG 1’, that is how far it goes. Shaleen Wadhwana – it’s been, what, 16 years, of having known each other and I can say without a doubt, the friendship is still as strong.

So Shaleen, this one is for you. Because you know I love you! (and also because this was your idea!) 😛


How can someone just snap out of a relationship?

Without ever stopping to realize,

The pain that she will have to endure.

He was not a bad guy, but then,

You can’t really judge people, can you?

Everything we thought he was,

Until now,

Was proven wrong suddenly and falsified.

The agony our friend experienced,

Because of one hard-hearted guy, was unimaginable.

How easy it was for him to say ‘It’s over’ and move on,

Whereas, she stood still,

Too dumbstruck to even realize that everything she had ever lived for,

Had gone.

The world seemed bleak to her,

There was no sunshine,

No rainbows, no flowers,

No love.

Crying day and night she had lost count of the moments passed,

Her eyes puffy,

Made her stand out among the still cheerful faces around.

For whom the world had not changed,

Still filled with the hope of a bright new day,

But, for her,

The world had stopped and she was left in a vacuum of memorable moments,

Nagging at her each passing second.

We tried our best to get out of that vacuum,

But so far we have failed miserably.

As hard as we try,

We still can’t measure up with the pain she’s going through.

My belief in love was shaken so badly,

That I guess it will take years before I believe in it again.

I wished he was always yours,

I wished you both a happy life,

I wished… but our wishes seldom come true.

Your pain can’t be put into words but I’ve tried.

In the end all I want to say is, ‘We love you and will always do, no matter what’

And that ‘We’re sorry this happened and we promise to stand by you no matter what’.

Love you always,

Your friends, forever.