I live in a goofy corridor

And believe me when I say it

I do live in a really goofy and creepy corridor

a) There’s a vampire : I do mean it. My corridor is usually occupied by senior students with creepy hairstyles. SO, one day I was on my way to wash my dishes when I by accident gazed into a room. The door was open and this girl was sitting on her bed. Her hair were pitch black and dishevelled and I always seen her use heavy eye make up. Now this time thick black liner was all around her sunken eyes and she was sitting in such a strange way with her friend. As I passed she looked at me and I was like RUN HAIBAR, for the sake of passing in the blood viva to the most daunting Professor, RUN.

I am exaggerating yes but she did give me the creeps. Hell every time now I watch her passing I look at her back and say in my head, aaj kitno ka kaam tamam kia he? (how many didja wipe off today?)

b)She’s in luurrvvv: Oh boy, people in love have really goofy smiles stuck to their faces. I see this girl always walking down our corridor smiling in such a GOOOOOFY manner that sometimes I resist the urge to just punch that show-piece of a teeth rack out of her. She’s ALWAYS talking on the phone. I mean..like.. ALWAYS.

Get a life..

c)Gold mines need be guarded: Some people have lots of expensive stuff in their room and that is reflected in the quality if the locks on the door or just the fact that this person really seals her door every time she even goes to the bathroom. I mean I see her carrying this huge bunch of keys every time I bump into her making noodles. What’s she.. an undercover medieval dungeon master…?

Moses smell the roses…

d)You raise me up: There’s this person, right infront of our room, who bangs the door with such a ferocity that it can raise the dead. I have woken up in the middle of the night due to Her Majesty with Ogre hands who hates her door and has an urge to slam doors just when my blasted eyes close..

For the love of Pete..

 

All for now..I do have packs of tales about my new hostel and people I live with, Ogres or Vampires or Dungeon Masters… I do love this Wonderland =)

Can’t wait for my friend Bubbly to be back from home.. Hate laughing without her =)

 

 

Top of the roof to ya

I got up early. Checked my cellphone, grabbed a shawl by my bed and wrapped it around me. I had left the window open as I dozed off late last night and my face was very cold. I rubbed it with my hands, slipped on my slippers and quietly went out. Just needed some fresh air

I was hoping that the doors to the roof of my building weren’t locked because I seriously needed to see some clear sky. And viola they weren’t. I went on and sat on cold concrete. This is my secret place. It’s close to heart

I used to take my journal with me when I went to my secret spot at home, top stairs facing a locked door and the place had a damp smell I love. This place also smells something like that. It is the concrete or cement I guess. But now I just come when I want, without a paper or a pen. Some feelings are too deep and personal to be recorded and left on for someone to read after you die. That’s why I write a journal. I wanna leave a solid mark for someone I truly love. But these emotions are too simple and too fragile for anyone’s eyes. I keep them to myself.

So, I sat. Inhaling the wind of the busy city while it was clean, before the city woke up. I was happy. Those little bubbles of happiness were forming in my heart and popping at the very same time. Words were slowly buzzing at the back of my mind. It wasn’t an uneasy feeling. It felt good.

Half an hour I sat. Thinking of all sorts of people and all sorts of memories. Pain makes me who I am.. I need it to feel myself or I’ll drift far far away. But all it takes is one word to make me happy, one gust of wind to forget all the sorrows and one pure gesture to break in all those walls.

I could see the roads and the shops and the huge institution past my building as I sat..with a content feeling nervously nudging into my heart. Happiness? Ahan. Slightly marred, yes. It has been a while I was just so truly happy. But it’s okay. Raw happiness seems unreal, you know. Besides we human can never be really happy. We will always whine for one thing or the other. Look at me. Rolling eyes

So after the traffic started to build up and the horns started blowing and the slight tinge of smoke filled the air as the sun came out to glare at me pointedly, I got up and slowly started to walk down the stairs. One of those days and times when I am torn between so many emotions. A large part of me is happy but that small afraid region just holds me back. So I just went back into my room before my roommates found out and closed the windows next to my bed. Closed my eyes and drifted again.

Boy do I stink at writing now

 

 

 

Land ho !

Well. I hate when I don’t write something I always wanted to write and then the moment passes and everything is lost. Sometimes delay adds or concludes the story on my mind so well.. but sometimes, like this time, it just ends up making me furious..

I wanted to write about how life was at my old hostel, like a full day overview.. just like falling for a convention.. I get up I do this and that… but before I could do so.. we shifted to this utterly brand new, raw and so simply crude hostel….

Yes. I did the packing yesterday…in like… 15 minutes? Gathering up 12 million books ain’t a human job, siree! Then having the new room cleaned. And strangely hurt at the fact that the friend you probably loved the most after your best friend.. snuck you from behind and changed colours at the mere matter of room allotments. It’s ^&(%$&$# of me to mention it here but sorry dude, I am not a saint. And you just showed me that you aren’t near one either =D

Anyways, we all helped each other bring stuff into our rooms. One friend holding bag of the other and all that. People marching up and down and up and down. A friend did all the cleaning of my cupboard (and till I breathe, I will never forget that) and so on and so forth

I slept very late. Still each part of my body hurts. My feet are raw red. (or is it red raw?) It’s a single room finally. But no more ten minutes walk for breakfast and to the bus stop. Everything is outside the gate. I will miss it, the hell I would. But it’s time we move on, savy?

It’s a cute room.. I even smuggled a caretaker uncle’s lawn chair =D oh I am also cute I don’t bite =P He won’t say a thing. I have to renovate and have the whole room painted again and fix a window, buy rugs and all. Even have some sockets set up

But six days are left and by the grace of Allah I go home after that. Mom will come with me after a good long period of summer vacations and help me do my room. But oh I will take a trip to the store myself too, ey =D

I don’t know what did I just write. Literally. Happens after every post. I better run and poke a few bodies in the hall. Boy, I have an exam coming up before I go home.

SO LONG!

 

Realization. Realization

There is a world to talk about. There are emotions and words cropped in me. But I go my way as always, mosaic and uncertain. Balderdash. All balderdash

I have so truly recognized the two halves in me that make a whole I am grateful and fortunate to be. There is a deep and pathetically emotional part that can pull me and slam me to the walls of my own existence any time it wants. And there is that fairly practical part, that can make me suffer through anything without any single thought bringing me down. But these halves are of a same whole and live so. Live together. Live in harmony and such delicate balance that I myself am astonished. Amazed. Gratified

Why am I writing this? My heart is heavy. Yes. Because I am wishing so truly and harshly that I should’ve covered my tracks. Lord I could’ve covered my tracks. The bad spells don’t leave me. They follow every world I tend to inhabit. Tend to live in. And fill me with the hatred and venom I clean myself of every night. I wish I would’ve vanished and never would’ve come back. Even looked this way. Maybe then I would’ve been alone and happy in the little world of mine. My curse will flow. And Lord I try so hard to keep myself from being the very person I left behind. What went. died then and there. But the dead have ghosts about them and they won’t leave until I die myself

But it aint that easy. The soul and body and the heart I posses are far too strong than I ever anticipated. Few nights ago I was sipping tea and walking in my hostel lane thinking that there are people in great conditions, people studying in KE (The best med college here and perhaps in the world) the great professors who have gone through so much before us and might still be in some dilemma but can they ever have the perceptions I have? I look at them, showing us slides of upper and lower limbs. I see them teaching me blood and brain. They know too much. But do they know what I have known, the way I squeeze a girl because she misses her Dad and Mom, telling her it’s ok… it’s ok. No. The people in KE, people in my college. No, they cannot see the world from my eyes. I don’t want them to. They will never. They can’t

I remember people telling me what love is. I remember people loving me. I remember them saying all those words I dared never believe. They sting me now because the repetition of those words once made me believe that life is real. I was lucky. My love was paid back… Lies. Such brutal lies. But that’s gone. I have cut the final strings. But they have made homes in the very territory that brought me back to life, There still was a last hope that somewhere deep my silence must have sufficed. It dint. And I no longer care

I only understand care and love when the pain… it penetrates. If it doesn’t - I move on. It still does…. I realized that there are consequences of losing someone. Either you never cared. Either you never realized. Either you thought someone won’t ever leave. (so on and so forth)

Lord it sounds dramatic

p.s College is awesome. Hostel stinks but It’s ok, I like being alone. And I am alone in the sense that is most fashionable and highly recommended.

Alone in a crowd

The one laughing at my jokes =D

 

I been a long time leaving but I’m going to be a long time gone

Billy’s leaving today (don’t know where he’s going).
Holds his head in disgrace (he can’t escape the truth).
He knows the price that he’s paid.
He admits that it’s too late to admit that he’s afraid.

Alright. It’s 6:30 am here. And I am all packed. There are all kinds of feelings and thoughts mingling with the sleep that’s heavily laid on my eyes. Arms hurt. Stomach’s in discomfort. It’s there. Life as I know it

Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he’s always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy…

It is silly how I can face anything if I block my emotions, overcome anything my giving myself justifications. The mind, oh later questions, the heart, it does accelerate, but see me here now. In this same room with the same maroon chair and chocolate-brown furniture. See me here in this room oddly vacant. See my mom silent. See me now. Making jokes to make her smile. I haven’t looked in the mirror, and I know you don’t see me.

Billy’s leaving today (don’t know where he’s going).
He’s got lines on his face (they tell the story of his pain).
He accepts it’s his fate.
He admits it took too long to admit that he was wrong.

Was it too hard to love me? Or equally too easy to hate me? Look, I am leaving now, away you see. I will take  no more time nor space in my mind to think about you all. Look, was I too bad to be abused? too wretched to be smashed any moment perceived? Still. I forgot to cover my tracks, and the monsters follow me in every world I take up, every star that shines on me, tainting every innocent smile of mine, and increasing every pain that finds its way

Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he’s always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.

I leave all these questions here, trying just as I left them here ages ago. It’s such a cold weather. There is fog out there, I hear. One of the smells I love. I am breaking away again. Because its easy now. My fingers are freezing, and I am scared deep down some place where I cannot figure myself out, never have;soon might.

Once he was a lover sleeping with another.
Now he’s just known as a cheat.
And he wish he’d had a mirror; looked a little clearer.
Seen into the eyes of the weak.

There is no use, aye. No use of saying anything. Because I have loved, I have lived, I have hated, I hate, and if people won’t stop hurting.. I won’t stop hating, I don’t care if it makes me a hypocrite, I am past the stages of resonated and so painful silence. My life hasn’t ended on such few suckers as yet btw. If a dog won’t stop barking.. aye I won’t stop roaring.. I have used this analogy the second time yet I am unaware of any scarp of meaning to it. Balderdash.

Tomorrow comes. Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done. The prodigal son is too late.
Old doors are closed but he’s always open,
To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.

Bye guys! I leave at 8 o’clock here. I packed such few stuff (?!) and I yet have my room to confirm. I’ll miss WP, might be back in a week due to a few holidays, it was an honour meeting you all and there is respect in my heart that nothing can tamper, pray fer me! SO LONG

Haibar

P.s. Happy new year to all Muslims!

(Title: Quote by Willie Nelson)

(Song: Oh, Billy by James Blunt)

 

Thoughts and a Scare

Another day, full of horrors went down. Went to the store bought a HUGE DIARY for myself. Well spent 750 rupees. That is about I dunno.. 9 dollars? But it has a good amount of bulk in it and I can write my capillaries out. Brown. Heavy. But beautiful. Finally I’ll go back to my journal, given that blogging era ticks to an end.

I was thinking, what to put on the first page. My first diary had:

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,– 
The simple news that Nature told, 
With tender majesty. 
Her message is committed 
To hands I cannot see; 
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!

~Emily Dickinson

And that was 2006. And my last (fifth diary) had

Yeah I’m a Zombie, aint nobody perfect

Now I think I’lll choose something frost again.. my fourth diary had the poem:

Now close all the windows..

““““““““““`

Now to the scary part that made me jump out of my body

I might not get into the hostel of the college so far away from my hometown. It’s killing me deep in. I’m tired already of the problems cropping up from the unknown. Now this

Oh my brain screams