Nude...

Unseen...

You know, I never realised how awesome it was to have you around in the same office at T. Everytime there was something I needed to talk about, all I had to do was get up and walk over to your desk and you were there. I still sometimes get up from my desk here and imagine walking to your desk, the one next to the cafeteria. I see you wearing your white woolen jacket and your black-rimmed funky specs. I imagine you looking up from your laptop at me, and I imagine saying, "Munira, guess what happened". I miss you. So damn much. Why did you have to get married? :( They say you're happier when you stay close to your friends. I am unhappy. Call me to the US too. I'll come.

The Short Version...

Bible, Kuran, Bhagvad Gita, Guru Granth Sahib.

Books are our Gods.

Save The Carrots For The Horses...

At times when you are faced with an uncontrollable desire to be close to someone else's skin, like when mine seems to forget how to breathe on its own from time to time, one will sit by oneself and often wonder, what can one do? At such times I have found a couple of things to help. These are after my own experiments and one must try, if they so choose to, at their own peril. Try this to begin with at first: Sit quietly in your closed room, and let the noise of the creaking fan drown your every thought, better than chanting om's, I assure you. But if you don't happen to be fortunate enough to have such an entertaining equipment at your immediate disposal, try reading. Politics, I have come to realise, helps immensely. And at times like the present, you will agree there be no dearth of reading material. But if you are not so inclined to reading politics, you might want to try astrophysics or interviews of famous personalities. But do not ever venture anywhere close to poetry or romantic literature. That-will-not-help. You will find yourself howling into the book even before you reach the third paragraph and who, honestly, wants to soil a pretty book of poems? No sir, you don't want to do that. Now, if you're no so much of a reading person, you might want to listen to music. Choose rock, heavy metal, and if you can stomach death metal, I'd suggest that too. Again, no jazz, no romantic music. But if in spite of chastising yourself a dozen times, you still gravitate toward those soft romantic numbers, another solution in the form of Orange Blossom could be tried. And while that fragrant amber liquid warms you inside out, you could gently nudge your mind into doing complex arithmetic. You might want to check how many sachets of Orange Blossom remain in the tin. Only 10?! Bad news, you must now ration out missing the person.


Oh wait, we are backing to missing then? Alright, try watching a funny video, a movie, maybe call a friend? And if all else fails, plumpling, pick up that damned phone and call that person who's causing so much misery. Do it. And then hear that person talk to you in the rudest fashion ever and as you struggle to get over the shock of those coarse words, ask yourself, do I still miss this person? I guarantee the answer will be a big fat NO.


Now, calm yourself down and make sure you don't leave any evidence behind. Gloves. And oh, you might want to double-check the carpets if any.


But if I were you, honeybunch, I wouldn't bother in the first place. 

Almost Family...

It's a strange kind of sadness, this. It doesn't stop you from going about your life. A normal day, a normal week, a normal month. The daily chores at home, the tedious work at office, the daily social interactions, everything is as it used to be. No crippling pain. No hopeless impasse that stops you from moving forward. No sinking feeling that sucks the life out of you every time you see some happy love. You feel it's gone. You've managed to deal with it, finally. And just when you have managed not to notice it long enough, it makes it presence felt. One day you're sitting in office, formatting an excel, and you'll notice you've been crying. When did that happen? Last you remember you were thinking about colons and semicolons.

It's a strange kind of sadness, this. It'll give you the permission to go to the party but expect you be back before the party begins.

Woman In Progress...

In a world where more and more women are trying to be like a man, here I am, struggling to be more of a woman.

A Mouse's Nest...

A room or two for our love and rest of the house for our differences.