A Letter to 2011.

Dear You,

You have and haven't given me so much that I think I owe you a letter at the very least. I hope you have just enough time to read this while you pack your belongings and look around to smile sadly at everyone, and you leave your trail of footsteps in everyone's doorway, and you walk away for the first and last time, and you make your way through the crowds and the noise and the chaos, find Fate waiting for you somewhere in the din, and you bury your head in it's arms, and it whisks you away to the heavens at the very moment the first firework goes off.

And you? You've melted into the space between the words of my letters, and you've seeped into my eyes and let me cry, and you've tickled my lips with a feather and made me smile wide, and you've pranced around while you've rolled out the show; and what a spectacular show it was.

You've given and you've taken and you've given some more. And God smiled down at me when you made me cry because He knew that you wouldn't leave things unfixed. You were good to me, and I am thankful for that because you were and still are terrible to a lot of people I know and love.

I thought I had a lot of things to write to you about but then I realized that I have way too much to write to you about. But you already know everything. From the serious discussions in the TV lounge to my wild laughter that rang through the winter silence. You know everything that has passed and everything that has not. And all the thoughts, the sounds, the scents. They will be our little secrets; things like the sound of the flute being played drifting in through my window on a forgotten Weekday.

Memories. You have too many of them brimming out from your sparkling Top Hat that you are still whirling playfully while you prepare to leave. Some that I love but have forgotten. And some that I can scroll through in the photo folder of my cell phone. I know I will forget all the little things like Manal strutting about in heels that have engulfed her tiny feet, but I wish I would not. I wish that I'd remember everything; from the qibla direction in the hotel to the broken Unicorn Toy that is lying beside me.

You've brought with you loudness, silence, mornings, nights, wonder, grief, happiness, sunrises, sunsets, sandcastles, suitcases, clothes, Eids, Biryani, friends, fairies; and you have made me feel infinitely blessed. And I am infinitely blessed to be infinitely blessed.

Thank you, most of all, for the chances after chances you have given me. Moment after moment. Is there a word called Moment-ful? I wish there was. Because that's what you were. Moment-ful.

Tonight, the skies will light up while you leave. Just like they did when you arrived. We will never meet again. One last time - Thank You.

Goodbye.

Forever.

Love,
Me.

A Letter to No One.

Dear You,

The happiest moments always pop into thin air, and fit so perfectly with every smile and the ringing laughter that follows that it makes me think that it is God and only God that can bring about such joy; it is inhuman and absolutely inhuman to manipulate an explosion of 'Happy Anniversary' wishes when somebody shouts that it is Midnight already, in a car that someone else has termed downright 'chaotic.'

I really want somebody to ask me how life is for me and then tell them that life is Loud. That my clicks on the camera are being wasted because everybody moves and everything happens so fast. That there are Three Little People in my life who never cease to use the word 'beautiful'. And that my sister bought me the packet of Hershey's that I was craving.

Last night I couldn't sleep, and I was wondering. I was wondering if feelings, like people, fade away. I was wondering if they fade to nothingness and join a multitude of dropped pens and pencils in that abyss of lost-and-never-found. Do they? Will I have a lot of things and people and feelings to write about in the coming years? I think I will. That's the good thing about things and people and feelings. Even when they give you nothing at all, they always give you something to write about.

I have been strange lately. Very strange. Sometime I feel invincible; I felt truly invincible when I sat cross legged on the cold shore and built a sand castle with the cold sand, facing the horizon and the deep, blue sea, while Colours danced in the sky as the Sun set. And then there are times when my head pounds with pain that is not remotely mine; there are times when I cry God-knows-who's tears for no reason at all; there are times when I am sad simply because I want to be sad. I am mad and I really don't mind.

And I've tried to keep my promises. I have tried to remember to stay true to my word. I have tried. So please believe me. Because I panicked when I lost the painting my niece made even though I told her I'd keep it. I know she has probably forgotten but I said I'd keep it. I said. And I didn't. I don't mean to be mean and I like to believe that most of the times people don't mean to be mean. It makes me think of Luna Lovegood. She said, "A circle has no beginning." Maybe Life did have a beginning, but after The Beginning, I don't think there was ever another beginning.

Baba is vaguely humming a tune and I am starting to not make sense more than usual. The silence is too loud right now and I feel like I am trespassing its boundaries with the sounds of my fingers hitting the keyboard. Karachi is never this silent. But Home is Home and I really miss my own washroom.

I've been reading 'The God Of Small Things' and it gave me the courage to capitalize Letters as I pleased. I feel like I've always wanted to do that. It is a good book to get lost in. And it reminds me of something that someone said somewhere, sometime (though I am sure that it wasn't to me and that I only overheard): We don't see things as they are; we see things as we are.

Thank you for listening.

Love,
Me.

A Letter to No One.

Dear You,

Taj Bibi said to me as I left to give my Chemistry exam, "Acha karna, phusht (first) ana." ("Do well, and come first in class.") That was some serious bit of motivation and I really did do well, Alhamdulilah.

Some things go unspoken; the infinite bond you share between your siblings, for example. Shazra baji was leaving for the airport, and all I said at the door was, 'Boo you!' and all she said was 'You suck!' (and then we laughed, of course) but I knew it meant that she'd miss me just as much as I'd miss her. I hope she never reads this letter, though. We found a mic system upstairs a few days ago, and did not waste any time pondering over how nonsensical the nonsense was that we were singing, turning sad songs into rock songs and making up lyrics that did not make any sense whatsoever. Can you tell that I absolutely cannot wait to join her on Thursday, Insha'Allah? I thought so.

Ammi was sitting with an Aunty in the TV lounge a couple of days ago. The Aunty said, "Imtehaan tou sabhi kay hotay hain. Us imtehan main Allah ko yaad karna hi asal imtehan hay." ("Life tests everybody; and remembering Allah in those tests is the real test.")

If there's one thing I've learnt over the course of the past six months, it is that no matter what you do, no matter how much you want something, no matter how much you do not want something, what can and will crush everything in a matter of seconds and minutes and days and weeks, is God's will. Always and forever. I think it would be wise if we leave our will with God's will; I think it would be wise to stick to something that never fails.

My ringtone right now is a bird chirping. It makes everyone jump, especially at night. It's funny.

Pictures are strange. They leave traces of people who do not even live anymore, flood memories into your mind that you are careful to avoid, and the more forlorn the pictures become, the more precious they seems. There's a picture of me digging a sandcastle in a polka dot shirt and green shorts. I hope that the polka dot version of me is proud of what I have become, and I hope that the polka dot version of me is a little disappointed that I do not wear that shirt anymore.

A lot of things have happened in the last couple of weeks, but a week-old memory that never gets old is the memory of my friend, the FTSTBTF (Friend That Sees Tears Before They Fall), reading my English assignment and deciding to keep it.

Baba called today in the morning just to make sure that I was up and hadn't overslept on an exam day. There is always, always a reason to feel infinitely blessed.

Thank you for listening.

Love,
Me.

A Letter to No One.

Dear You,

You know what is hard? Missing a lot of things that everybody has stopped missing.

It is ironic to have your presence felt the most when you are not present at all. Silence is strange. Sometimes it holds you together and sometimes it breaks you down. But most of the times, I think, I break my own heart. Nobody is responsible for my expectations. Don't worry, though, most of the times my heartbreaks are about things like a Physics exam gone horribly wrong. But pain is pain, no matter how small. I think I saw my friend tearing up while she told me how she forgot everything right before the exam. Tears will be tears; they make everything seem worse or better.

Yes, yes, I know I should be studying. There is something about the winter wind, the cold ground and the ringing silence that gives me goosebumps; as if something fascinating is about to happen; as if life will start prancing and squealing any instant and this is only the calm before the storm. And the cat outside just shrieked hysterically, probably pouncing on another cat. I told you it felt like something was about to happen.

Time makes the future seem particularly far away, just when it is around the corner. I am very impatient right now and I really cannot wait for next Thursday. But it seems forever away.

Sometimes I feel like I am trying to catch up with things that don't have the time to wait for me, or even the patience to listen to my frantic footsteps as I follow them. And then I stop in my tracks, turn around and eventually go back to catching up with myself. I think, after God, I am the one I need the most.

Thank you for listening.

Love,
Me. 

A Letter to No One.

Dear You,

Most things are less scary than they seem. The projectile motion derivations taught me that. The sight of them had once made me want to turn to the easier chapters in all my terror, and now I can tell you why the horizontal component of velocity is constant during the motion. Maybe the first times need to be scary so that you recognize the absence of fear the second time.

There have been a lot of first firsts and first lasts lately. An end leads to a new beginning and then a beginning leads me to a new end. I've been trying to keep up with the change and have just barely kept up with time. It's in a hurry, time is. Almost as if it wants to show me something really important as soon as possible.

I hear my sister telling someone over the phone that I am studying. I've been talking about studying a lot lately, more than actually studying. That must be it. The silence of actions tends to drown in the noise of delicately decorated words. It does save you from you-should-be-studying glares, though.

Will I grow up, or will I just learn to hide the part of myself that finds pressing random numbers on a calculator amusing, still? My brain has a whole department of hidden sounds, scents and scenes, so that comforts me. At least I won't be running out of space.

I am glad that the only thing that let me down today was unscrewing a bottle labeled 'Ovaltine' and finding elaichi (cardamom) in it instead. I hope I don't let down Today.

Ammi just walked in the room with a bowl of yoghurt for me. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again: I? I am infinitely blessed.

Love,
Me.

Dear You,

I feel stuffed and sleepy and extremely happy. It's one of those days you'd like time to stand still, especially now, as there's a burst of laughter erupting from the computer, courtesy of Skype, Baba is explaining to someone over the phone how innocent Manal looks in her passport photo, my brother is rubbing his eyes after a long day and I am sitting here stupidly smiling at the screen.

I munched the leftover pizza thoughtfully and treated myself to wide grins as I relished the second 'Exceptional' I'd got on one of my English assignments. It felt good. The midterm schedule is out. I suppose I should get down to study. My teachers said they were expecting us to study ten hours a day and - well, I'd rather not be honest on this regard. I really need to get a move on.

Maybe God smiles down at us while we worry and tear our hair out and there's a bundle of happiness wrapped in golden wrapping paper just around the corner. I am infinitely blessed.

Thank you for listening and thank you, God, for these smiles, my headphones, Skype and a sister who is trying to dominate the TV lounge with her loud, off-key singing voice while I try to do the same simultaneously. It's a bit of a chaos and I'm infinitely thankful for it.

Masha'Allah, Masha'Allah. Nazar na lagay.

At the end of the day, there's always something to smile about. Happiness exists. Even if it exists in as small a thing as the (now barren) box of pizza.

(The good kind of) tired after a drama-filled day,

Me.

(un)fortunate

the sight of you

is either-

fate smiling down at me

or

cruelly laughing in my face;

it tends to do the

latter -

how beautiful a tragedy

is a beautiful tragedy

doubling all the ache;

quiet beautifully, dutifully,

entrancing me to dance

to the sounds of the clatter

as i break and i shatter

and melt into verses for you

once again