freedom is the freedom to choose whose slave you want to be.

Friday, December 15, 2006

the one in which she was happy

This has to be the most beautiful winter ever.

Morning after morning of sun that I swim in, in tea that almost scalds, slides smooth along my insides like John Legend drenches my eardrums, my senses, slowly, I slide into the plastic lawn chair, cold, ticklish grass underfoot and this could be the new definition of bliss in my book.

And this is just the perfect mix: of hope, a sense of achievement, a little disappointment, a few reality checks, just the right amount of heartache and tears, the balance of uncertainty and faith, the best friends, the right attitude, confidence with a dash of self-doubt, of memorable afternoon drives, and aloneness-in-crowds, of long, cold yet warming bathroom-floor conversations, of goodbyes, and realisations, and lessons.

I stand on the edge of the Margalla road, emerging from a strangely liberating three hour meeting, in the three o' clock sun, as cars whizz by me and I am aware I never learnt how to cross roads, and I am small again as the road stretches out ahead of me, and my bright red dupatta dances in front of my face but there's a taste of green tea and success in my mouth and as I walk along the road at the foot of tall, swaying trees, me - tiny and insignificant, I still feel invincible.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

why ju yew sounds so xorny?

11:29 PM  
Blogger cheesoo said...


update plisss :)

9:02 AM  

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