The Statue

Once there lived a man among the hills who possessed a statue wrought by an ancient master. It lay at his door face downward and he was not mindful of it.

One day there passed by his house a man from city, a man of knowledge, and seeing the staue he inquired of the owner if he would sell it.

The owner laughed and said, "And pray who would want to buy that dull and dirty stone ?"

The man from the city said, "I will give you this piece of silver for it."

And the other man was astonished and delighted.

The statue was removed to the city, upon the back an elephant.

And after many moons the man from the hills visited the city, and as he walked the streets he saw a crowd before a shop, and a man with a loud voice was crying,

"Come ye in and behold the most beautiful, the most wonderful statue  in all the world. Only two silver pieces to look upon this most marvelous work of a master."

Thereupon the man from the hills paid two silver pieces and entered the shop to see the statue that he himself had sold for one piece of silver.

~Khalil Gibran~

Can't Sleep !

hmm…consider you’ve just gone to bed: 

You are in familiar surroundings…nestling inside sheets and blankets that are steeped in your own smells and memories…hmm….your head has found that pocket of softness in the middle of your pillow…you are lying on your side…and as you curl your legs up against your stomach…your forehead tilts forward… and the cold side of the pillow cools your face….soon…hmmm….very soon….you’ll fall asleep and….in the darkness that engulfs you…you will forget everything – everything.

So consider you will forget it all:

The disloyalty of a friend...hmm…betrayals…the cruel power of your superiors…the thoughtless things you wish you’d never said…the stupidities…the unfinished work…the lack of consideration…the injustices…the indifference…those who’ve blamed you…those who will blame you no matter how you explain yourself…your financial troubles…the rush of time….the endless waits….the things and people forever beyond your reach…your loneliness…your shame…your defeats….your wretchedness…your pain and the catastrophes – all those catastrophes – in just a few minutes you will forget them all.

hmmm…the prospect comforts you.

Patiently you wait:

hmm…and you are not alone in waiting….waiting with you in the darkness…or the half-light…are all those ordinary and oh-so familiar wardrobes…chests of drawers…tables….chairs….tightly shut curtains…. discarded clothes…your hand bag and next to it your hand watch and your rings – all waiting…hmm…patiently waiting.

Since you wait you listen to the familiar sounds of night:

A car passing through the neighborhood…swishing through the puddles at the side of the street and over the cobblestones you know so well…a street door closing…hmm…somewhere nearby….the hum of the old refrigerator motor…the dogs barking in the distance….a whistle after every hour from the street keeper…and sound of train passing though so distant but it seems its nearby...

With these sounds come memories of sleep and dreams….memories of oblivion…of being ushered into another world…hmm…they remind you that it will not be long now….soon you’ll vanish from your mind along with everything around you…even your beloved bed….as you sleep into the enchanted world of sleep.

You make yourself ready:

It feels as if you’re wafting away from your own body….wafting away from your beloved legs….your hands…your arms…after all who wants the body to travel through a dream?

You are ready….and this so pleases you to know that you’ll be forgetting them soon too….as you close your eyes.

A soft twitch of the lids reminds you that your pupils are safely shielded from the light...you also stop all your memories parading before you so that your mind would not start wandering in another journey than of sleep but….

After all this sacrifices...all the preparation….you can’t sleep.

Still…hmm….you can’t sleep….what to do?

Is yet to be....

When I was a child…hmm…I looked ahead to certain ages.

Ten was special though I hardly remember anything about my TEN only that once I was beaten by a group of girls who thought that I stole their lunch…hmm…I told them honestly that they cant take their lunch out of my stomach now but they tried well.

Double digits: Thirteen made me a teenager. Sixteen was sweet in a way that I knew a lot of things (grown up things) but always pretend that I don’t…and funny that people always used to believe me…seventeen even more delightful…I was first time allowed to a movie theater alone with my friends…and eighteen: downright grown-up…yuppeee.

So I had certain plans already in my mind for my certain age…and the plans worked well until twenty…hmm…all my plans stopped there.

WHY? Because TWENTY was supposed to be my wedding year…a day that did not come that year and so I admit: I hate twenty.

But it is the only age I have hated.

Since that time…I’ve found too much joy in finding myself a deeper and happier woman…at finding my MAKER closer and more real with every passing year.

How could I mourn the loss of my painful shyness…or the gaining of rich memories and dear friends?

It’s only our culture that says that we have to bemoan every year past.

I can’t since every passing year I become more sensible…wise and kind of old player who knows lot of tricks to get through the game without getting tired.

All those years which I left behind were good years…yes..hmm…but I can honestly say that I have no desire to be twenty again – or even thirty.

Based on the adventure so far…I know that when my forties finally will arrive…I will have great cause to welcome (even) them.

When it comes to age…my contentment level is a changing thing…and I can’t predict when it will change.

Just this week…I winced when I quoted my upcoming age to a friend. I guess it’s time for another reality check..but yet it do hurts too.

Finding a job…dealing with your enemies…keeping your Friends in tack and making a life is a real adventure…your joy for some relationship getting stronger…or anticipation on loved one’s leaving you…is the real aging.

That’s what getting older means.

Each Friend…or…Loved One who left you…Each day you passed without being hit by a truck…car…or even heart attack…each white hair addition on your head…each added birthday...and each added life lesson is another landmark that says, “You’re getting closer!”

Closer to what…hmm…?

Closer to Home… Home!

And yet...I don't want to predict whether it will be heaven or hell....but one thig is sure...I could finally call it  HOME....

The best....truly...is yet to be.

Precious bags

hmm....if you were to own a set of LV travelling suitcases…its not that I have doubt on your owing a set of LV travelling suitcases…but be honest after spending so much on suit cases would you ever check them in at airport?

I sometimes thought that I would probably wrap them up (if someday I own them) in meters of cling wrap before I send them in through those horrible dirty airport belts.

But then again, it's all relative. If I were rich and can afford LV suitcases, I would probably use it as the 'commoners (like me)' would use their Samsonite or Rimowa!

However...hmm...I have seen many people who are extremely precious about their handbags though. I witness an encounter where this lady had to line the table with handkerchief before putting her handbag on it.

I must admit that I am pretty lousy when it comes to taking care of my bags. I maximise use....throw them around and when they get dirty - wash them...that's why I like cloth bags.

Then again...I don't own anything close to a Birkin Hermes…sigh….

I had a lobby fight once….beloved husband and I were in a hotel lobby where we were waiting for our bus to take us to the air port…

As we both were trying to get settled on a small side table and no one wants to leave anyone so the choice was to let one standing and let the other sitting on the near by sofa....I can continue like this ages but beloved husband's whining....put me into the situation....

hmm...I politely rather heroically went to this table and ask for an empty chair.

The lady there with a smoke in one hand and her face looking away from me said...

'Get the waiter to sort you out - I need this chair for my bag'

To be honest...hmmm....I wasn't psychologically prepared for such a response.

So...in shocked....I told her ' hmm...don’t be naive - this chair is for humans not for your bag'

She ignored me and continues to ask me to get the waiter to sort me out without even turning to look at me.

I could tell her (gutless) male friend was getting embarrassed.

We had a few louder encounters and I finally told her that I thought it was a pity she learnt the English language without picking up proper manners.

The manager did finally sort the chair out but...hmm......

It's really not like she was carrying a super expensive bag and the logic of placing a material good as more important than a fellow human being???....

In addition...I don't understand how when it comes to customer service in Pakistan the fiercest people always win (rules, logic, good manners just won't get you too far)

Well...I got my chair...but without an extra chair for our bags...it all had to be dumped on the floor! 

And....what a 'B$%^&!!!!... It does feel good to really use that term on someone who really deserves it....hmmm....

I am not sad

hmm...so HR awoke each morning with the desire to do right...hmm...

...to be a good and meaningful person....to be....as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was..hmm...happy.

And during the course of each day her heart would descend from her chest into her stomach.

By early afternoon she was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right...or nothing was right for her...and by the desire to be alone.

By evening she was fulfilled:

hmm...alone in the magnitude of her grief...alone in her aimless guilt...alone even in her loneliness.

I am not sad...she would repeat to herself over and over....I am not sad.

As if she might one day convince herself. Or fool herself.

Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad.

I am not sad...hmm....I am not sad.

Because her life had unlimited potential for happiness...insofar as it was an empty white room.

She would fall asleep with her heart at the foot of her bed....like some domesticated animal that was no part of her at all.

And each morning she would wake with it again in the cupboard of her rib cage...having become a little heavier...
a little weaker...
but still pumping.

And by the mid afternoon she was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else..hmm...someone else....someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.