Zainab Khalid and I ("third" likes "me" better)

I never knew that she existed. When i was introduced to her by a girl I knew from university, only then did I come to know that she was one of my class mates too. I still wasn't interested. Weird one she was, or maybe I was the non-social one. I have always been one of the types that make friends not so easily but break up with them VERY easily. But let's not talk about me here. This blog is especially for Zainab Khalid.

Once she became one of the people that I did talk to in the University, (because of the "third" girl; for whom i would be writing a blog very soon..so no names) there were many things that i definitely did not know about myself but she did, which was funny, but it made me get still more not-interested in her somehow. There were voices telling me that we cannot be friends and probably there were voices around her whispering to her from the past that I was a freak.

Well many weeks passed and I still didn't like her, NOT that I DISLIKED her. But talking to her was good. It somehow became enjoyable listening to her constant blabbering about some issue which i would be totally ignorant about. Yes an ignoramus I was, ignoramus I am. I listened to what she said and the "talks" were "talked about" again between me and..Well..a person I thought I could be friends with. Bad times..here they can be called DESPERATE times.

So both of us moved on.

I talked to her..gossiped about her...sometimes defended her. Most of the times i remained neutral about her. There came a time when our lives were in a state where a microbiologist would refer to them as two bacteria trying to conjugate through pili..but of course that was our lives and not us. We were in the same group of friends but she never became important as she should have been as a friend until I was forced to know her. Sometimes it happens that when you talk about someone too much-for or against-you somehow develop an urge to know them more. It's your greed to prove to someone else that they're wrong about the particular person under consideration or simply you covet to show the veracity of your view of the human that you met.

I started realizing that she was not just another person in my life long after the actual "incident" had happened. She had already taken over the position of the one person that would be there to lecture me about other people and how relationships should be dealt with. It were the circumstances going on then that made her talk to me about such things. It was good talk always. I shouted in front of her and other members of the group (One, two and three..they will have their blogs :P) and all of them would try to calm me down. I knew she would disagree with me on most of the things that i said but she never really said that openly. I liked that about her. She would still annoy me at times saying things that i would be denying all the time and she just blurted them out.

--CLIMAX--

And then she went through the same and DUDE..that was when the MORON actually got what it was all about. THEN did the bonding really start. We gossiped about a bitch. We talked about a bitch. we called a BITCH a BITCH and only THEN did we become true SOUL MATES!!

hahahahahahahahahah!..:P :P :P :P :P :P :P

True Story..:P :P..is se ziada chuss ni maari jati meray se..:P

The story does not end here to know more details about this girl...and let me tell you...this would now include "LOUVE" WITH A MAN OF BOOKS too..to get more of this not-hot-ness please comment..:P

When I find nice poetry..I share it.

Mi gir gaya..

her Arooj ko zawaal hota hai.

So correct.

Hota hai aur bohot ziada hota hai. Jitna ooncha urroo gai utni hi gravitational potential energy bherti jaye gi aur phir utni hi tezi se neechay giro gai.

:S

Multiple Choice Questions

I loved you once, and i'll love you again, but i hate the fact that you're so disgustingly QUANTIZED!

Once in my life, or may be twice,

ten on ten baby. (B-))

ten on ten!

Dialog Number 1

She said, "Ah! you're goo-o-d"

I said, "you're goof, oh pardon...good too"

R-e-p-e-n-t

Somebody please transport me to Saturn because things that used to make me happy aren't so shiny anymore. Give me a magic wand so i can bring my people back. These Shadows that drive my life were once really there. I never noticed them when they were flesh and blood, but this light is taking away my cover and now i know how much i need them to hold my hand and lead me through this land crawling with aliens, to a place that sheltered me when i was a lump of flesh, and shall shelter me when i need it no more.

It's An Understatement

He was dying and we knew he wasn't going to die painlessly. We could see it in his eyes. Once so bright, now they were dark with the curtains of plea shadowing them. I got up and left. Maybe I didn’t want to see him die or maybe I was tired of looking after him. Whatever the case was, as soon as I lay on my bed, I went to sleep.

My father came to me in the middle of the night, probably expecting to find me crying. He shook me; a bit annoyed.

“What are we supposed to do now?” He said in a harshly neutral tone.

I didn’t have anything to say in return so I pulled the sheets over my head and told him to switch off the night bulb when he left. He didn’t leave. I could feel him standing there. Although he wasn’t moving, I knew he was restless.

The next day I got up because of the usual disturbance from underneath my pillow. I hit the snooze button on my cell phone that I alternatively used as an alarm clock too. The best I could do now was to stare at the ceiling fan.

Alarm again.

Snooze again.

Now the wall.

Alarm again.

Snooze again.

The fan again.

After a few spins of the half-dead fan with a nearly burnt capacitor, it was time to hit the snooze button again but it never “alarmed” me. It was sick of me too. There was no more reason to remain lying on the bed, so I sat. My mind was unable to help my body in conceiving any other position. My back itched. I scratched it. Then I scratched my elbow too. I wanted my mum to come wake me up but she never came. Only fifteen minutes were left for me to get ready for school and...get out of my room.

Right from the bed I suddenly noticed that my sister had left my dressing room mirror unclean. I got up to clean it. It couldn’t get any dirtier. Dirt is bad. I cleaned it until my arms ached and it shone.

Four minutes left.

My cell phone vibrated from somewhere near my pillow. But that was an absurd place for a cell phone to be so I looked at more probable places first; the book rack, inside the cupboard, under the bed. It stopped vibrating, so I stopped looking.

Finally my mum knocked at the door. I was still in my Pajamas. Get ready was all she said.

Is that all? Nothing else? I went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. My face was as skinny and as bony as before, but my teeth looked yellow, really yellow; so yellow that even I was disgusted. I moved my tooth brush to and fro, up and down, round and round, until my fingers ached and small bits of red started to appear in the white foam on my tooth brush. The part of me in the mirror definitely had a stained face. The mirror needed cleaning too.

There was a knock on my door again. I put my clothes on and grabbed my backpack. I opened the door, and surprisingly it seemed loose. I checked if it really was loose, or I was imagining things. It wasn’t. A deep breath came out of my lips. I adjusted and readjusted my backpack on my shoulder. My sandwich was ready for me as usual. I had to eat it as fast as I could. I realized I was getting late. Very late.

Nobody said anything. I half-wanted them to say something and half-needed them to remain silent. In less than a minute my sandwich was gone and hot tea gulped down, leaving a burnt esophagus behind. The only thing left to do was to put my dishes in the wash basin and then I could leave. I pushed open the kitchen door and hurried inside. My foot hit a small bottle I had never seen before. Mum never left medicines lying around; not on the floor at least. I picked it up.

I never had that feeling before. The transitions that it carried were undecipherable. It was so strong. I felt nauseous. There were butterflies deep inside my gut. A sigh of relief came out of my lips. I am sure it was a sigh of relief. But then deep anger took over. I had never been so angry. I still can’t comprehend that feeling I had on seeing the tiny skull printed on the little brown bottle. It made me want to tear the whole world apart. Every bit of it crushed right between my palms. I was angry at myself for not being able to do anything. I was mad at myself for being such a coward to let it happen. I wanted it to end for him. I should have wanted it to end for me too. If it were possible I would have hugged his cold body and never let go, for he was mine. He had been mine all along. And I knew both of us wouldn’t regret it ever. His pain was gone but he was gone too.

Everyone always told me that I cared about my “cats” and “dogs” more than I cared about my “human amigos”. But they never understood and they never will.