.

If you had a smidge of shame in you
you wouldn't go around telling em it was me
you wouldn't go on yelling at me
you wouldn't go around selling me
your lies that you wish I'd buy
but hon, I'm innocent; not stupid
and if it wasn't for cupid
I'd have been long gone
but I believed in chances
I thought maybe youd get it right now
but I guess some people are just born to get it wrong
and you know what, I'm glad it didn't go right
cuz if you were gonna take that way
I'd rather take a left
and I'm taking whats left of me
and its more than what I came with
cuz I've got a few lessons and some memories to take with me
they say what goes around comes around
and it will some day
cuz no matter how far you run
and how long you ecsape
she's bound to knock you down
cuz karma's a bigger bitch.

Explosion.

I got my eyes on you
Yes I'm gonna spy on you
No I don't need a shoulder to cry on you
I have no reason to lie to you
There ain't no good that Imma find in you
Oh no I wont fuss and fight with you
All I want is to get high with you
Maybe roll up a million dollars
And smoke em up beside you
Lets make memories, I say
Hold my hand and I guide you
I'm talking gibberish yo
But I know what I'm upto
Sing along wimmi
There's nothin else that I ask for
Just shut Ur eyes and take that leap with me
Swim a lil more deep wimmi
This ain't a nightmare or a dream
It's truer than you think
We're on the brink of making the biggest mistake of our lives
No it involves no knives no blade no blood
All you gotta do my friend
Is to open your eyes.

Think before you ask.

So where have you been
So what have you been doing
Are you sleepy?
Why're you high?
Why've you gained weight?
Why do u seem thin?
What're u thinking?
Is something bothering you?


YES.


 You are.


I Don't know if it's hilarious
Or pathetic
Or just lame
How people ask you questions that are so obvious you want to smack them.


So this one day I'm walking down the school corridor
My nose red  my throat sore
My eyes almost shut
My shoulders slumped
My voice all croaky
My legs move so slow a turtle could beat me
And out of nowhere this  super genius
 who I've sat in class with
With my face Burried in my hands all day and coughing like an old engine appears and says,
"So, you not well?"


..........*deep breath* it's just of those questions.




Not well? Who me? Oh no. I'm just practicing my coughing skills.


Just last week this zabardasti ki aunty came over and like all typical aunties HAVE To comment as the Great big book of the rules of being an aunty teaches them,
She pulls me into a hug that could choke me and says,
Abi pichle mahine tou dekha tha tumhain aj itni Bari Bari kyun lagrai ho?


And I look down at myself wearing jeans I bought a year back and they still fit. And then I look at my aunties twelve year old who's so beefy she could beat my dad at arm wrestling.And then I look at how auntys legs stretch all the  Way to the table before us and mine dangle in mid air.
*sigh*
Aunties... Can't live with them..


I went to the movies last night.
To her surprise (and my disappointment) I ran into an old friend who like my aunty, strangled me with a hug.
I was wondering how to break the awkward silence when she grabbed my hands and yelled,
"What are YOU doing HERE?"


Did she just ask me what I was doing in a movie theatre with popcorn?
Way to start a conversation -.-


After such questions, it's just prayer that escapes my lips.


Dear God,
Feed some sense in the people of today
Teach them when and what to say
Enlighten them with questions that have replies
So i don't have to roll my eyes
And state the obvious to them
Amen. 


Yours faithfully, 
Tortured. 

Pinjra gali.

The crater at the mouth of "Pinjra Gali" -- the lane of Empress Market that sold nothing but cages--didn't bother Aslam anymore. He was used to the bump that welcomed him to work every morning. He would carefully drive his Honda 70 over the bump and snake his way past wooden cages that shopkeepers displayed outside their tiny shops. The tyres of his bike would paint a trail of water all the way to his shop after running over the spillage from Mubeen bhai's leaking water cooler. He'd wave to Saleem Bhai, nod to Bashir Bhai and toss a candy to Farooq, more commonly known as Pappu. The ten year old would catch the piece of candy and follow Aslam to his shop.

Even after twenty years of being built, Pinjra Gali was exactly the same. Narrow, smelly and crammed with cages, Pinjra gali was one of the few places in Karachi that flaunted the best tea-- not cages. Like the Qissa Khawani Bazar in Peshawer and Anarkali in Lahore, Pinjra Gali was a miniature example of a historic site known less for what it sold and more for its tea, cheap fly-infested food and story tellers.
Aslam, like everyday, raised the shutter of his shop, muttered a prayer under his breath and then stepped into his shop. He picked up an old rag and wiped the layer of dust off his hand-made masterpieces. Aslam turned to the wall opposite the entrance that was adorned with a single frame. Even after five years, the sight of his parents caused a momentary stillness around him as if the earth stopped spinning and time had paused long enough for him to travel back to that night and return to Pinjra gali.

If I should have a daughter.

If I should have a daughter

I'd call her Glory or Faith or Truth

And tell her, Baby, this is what I want from you

I want you to hold your head up high

Like you're a gem

Like you're the sun

Like you're the brightest star in the night sky

So Baby, I'd say

And shed listen with gleaming eyes

I'd say I want you to be wise 

And always follow your heart

And follow your dreams 

And never let them pull you apart

And persevere and push and hold on just a second longer

Cuz Baby, what won't destroy you, 

Will only make you stronger. 

And she'd nod her head patiently 

Absorbing all o' my words 

Like a sponge soaks up water 

But my daughter,  will not be weighed down by em

Instead she'd spread her wings 

And soar like I never could

She'd live the dream that I probably have would 

If only.. 

If only I wasn't for sale and If I wasn't bought 

If I wasn't left in this hell to rot

If I had fought and 

If I had not 

Fallen into his plot

A swollen belly wouldn't be the only thing I'd have got

But it's the first hope in  years 

After tears and fears and glares and flame and game and an utter lot of shame... 

I fear, though 

That she might inherit my fate

But then I slap myself and say 

No, she will be brave

She will fight, she will win

She would not bend 

She'd struggle with pride and she'd strive

Because when all fails and crumbles and comes to an end

It's Glory, it's Faith, it's Truth that survives.  

The last goodbye.

In a dark corner

She sits and weeps

She just stares at her feet

Doesn’t talk

Doesn’t sleep

Her tears wet her face

They run down her cheek

That’s all she’s done

Since last week.

She shuts her eyes tight

When she thinks of his face

His comforting embrace

Those bright, lively eyes

That winning smile

How charming he had been

When she was seventeen.

He had promised to be loyal

He was faithful all along

She still wonders where she went wrong

Was it the new biscuits?

Or was his leash too tight?

Or did his flea- rash get worse?

Or was he cold all night?

Her fingers dig into her flesh

She tries to hide

Her pain but its useless

 to deny

Wilbur had left

Said his final goodbye

She’d have to accept

Her favourite puppy had died.

Envy.

Envy is purple; the purple of swollen bruises.

It pricks, it tugs and it punches holes in your conscience.

Envy is that sour taste in your mouth when you see him with the most popular while you sit on the bench in the corner.

To envy is to want to switch shoes; or at least, to see her in extremely uncomfortable stilettos.

To envy is to want him to cry out of helplessness, to feel your boot smother his pride and to feel yourself above him.

Envy tastes of lemons—the green, sour ones—that make your taste-buds go gaga; the one you’d love you’d love to squeeze over her fresh, bleeding wounds and feed on her pain.