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

Friday, June 22, 2007


I tip-toe around time. Sit in the rain, dialling random numbers and having meaningless conversations, as the rain soaks through my clothes, blurs my glasses and I can't see anything but the smell of the rain and the headlights reflected on the road are enough. And persistent mosquitoes eat at my toes no matter how far into my painchas I hide my feet and sometimes on the terrace there is no conversation and blobs of light instead of plazas and I'm still there. And I sink into a mango at 2.30 a.m, the most barbaric way to eat a mango and everything is laced with desperation, the wind, Yumna Abdullah, Kalabagh, the glasses of milkshake.

We defend ourselves from dragonflies and moths and monkeys with weak, twiggy branches, and Faiqa falls asleep under a tree, her head is on my shoulder and our breathing becomes rhythmic. She tapes the silence and I take pictures of the daisies and I take twenty minutes to pry out a headless nail from the sole of my shoe and her wrist is decorated with insect bites from an adventure and we listen to the wind, and read our books, and this is a perfect day that we just don't want to end.

She's testing out the tangibility of her dream and I am living the logical consequences of rational decisions. And all this emotion stuns me most days, wakes me up with the most filmi smiles as I look at my phone without my glasses and for that moment I want to be there right now. Just a little disappointed with God and the passive aggression comes out as I try to figure out what it is that needs to be fixed, the wisdom of the faith argument wearing thin for the moment.

Two crazy weeks, by far the two best weeks of the summer I'm expecting, peppered crayons, Lost, Slims, the rain and zits. The Waleed kid touches my toes as he sits at my feet and the Momin kid asks me why I smile so much (often reflective of your past? he says) and the Fahad kid gets me a present and I wear makeup everyday and miss Abdul Muizz and this is insanity, this is not me.

I haven't even begun to figure out where this is heading.


Blogger Pixie said...


read your work. like it!

id love for you to drop by my blog and tell me what you think

recently its emotional bullcrap, dont judge the recentmost articles.

last month or earlier this month would be a better bet.

:) hope to hear from you.


4:13 PM  

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