Tuesday, November 1, 2011

An Awaited Picnic

I was visiting my relatives in Karachi, coming after a period of three years. During these years, I had met my relatives off and on, but for three long years I had not seen the city, the beach, that one thing I crave for. This year, my entire maternal family had gathered during summer and a picnic was scheduled.
The day of picnic came and there rose a mixture of emotions within me as the event fell in action. I was looking forward to a lot of things; being with my entire family, making new friends (for there were other relatives and family friends joining us), swimming in the sea, the precise road trip, my Aunt’s birthday that we were to celebrate there, and all that adventure that I kept on imagining we’d have.
Journey went interesting enough; we travelled in an air conditioned bus though the weather was much pleasant, for the sun hid behind heavy clouds no scorching heat bothering us. Excited as we all were, with picnic clothes on, applying sun block lotion, some tried to instigate the traditional game of ‘Antakshari’ yet we all ended up singing old songs in chorus. The younger ones one after another started feeling hungry and were emphatically told by adults to calm down, for they wouldn’t stop jumping and whining. An hour passed by, my view of outside changed from old buildings of Karachi to vacant plots; abruptly, breaking the silence, my over smart cousin who had already seen the hut proclaimed that we were almost there. A wild questionnaire ran through my mind; I was curious about the place I’d soon reach. How good was that hut that everybody kept praising? Would there be enough room for all of us? Would the washrooms be in usable condition? Would the shore be any different from the one at sea view? And what not!
The bus stopped as we reached our haven; jumping off the bus with euphoria, I was eager to enter the gates. Suddenly, a small hand clutched mine and round fright filled eyes looked at me; my younger sibling was scared, for she had never heard such sounds of the wind and the deep. I soothed her with credible statements and soon after, she was as eager as I was. Upon entering our hands parted and jaws dropped open, for we saw such widely spaced rooms ahead of us, all things intact, all basic electronic devices we could think of, the best part was that how the hut had a swimming pool and how its end gate opened at the mouth of the sea. Not being able to resist my love for the deep, tumbling, like a fanatic I ran, till I reached the shore. The tides were low; hence I walked further till I reached a point where the water gently kissed my feet. I have no words to expound the exposition of nature’s beauty that mesmerized me, for I stood static then as I feel static now as I recall that moment.
The adults abided by the pool side, as the youngsters came next to me. Frenzy filled eyes, smiling faces, taking deep breaths we looked at each another; conversing in silence, saying that this is just the beginning; a series of relish able events are subsequent.
NOTE: Somewhat imagination, somewhat reality based personification.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Pondering Upon Fiasco

Once I was this irritating young girl, who lived like her business was to poke nose into other people’s lives. I always wanted to know who talked about what? What was new in everybody’s life? In short, I wanted to know all about everyone. I am pretty sure people used to make fun of me behind my back, for the way I behaved; that never stopped me from trying again and again or even following the ‘cool’ girls around. What they failed to understand was that how lonesome I was; all I ever wanted was to blend in, look as smart as the toppers of the class, be as pretty as those girls in my class, appear as cool as those who came to school in their own cars showing off a shiny new gadget every other day. As much as I craved to be one of them, many a times I hesitated while speaking, hardly gave my true opinion on anything. What scared me was that if I spoke much, everybody would start laughing at me rather than listening to me; for I had a poor English, my uniform shirt was full sleeved, my hair were oiled and platted not hanging loose like theirs, and I traveled through school transport.
The days of my misery did not come to an end with the arrival of my visa for USA; from one metropolis to another I migrated, but nothing about me changed. For a year or more I was the stupidest girl on campus again: stupid enough to wear jumpsuit to school. My classmates laughed at me, mocked my name (for it was a different one) and all I could think was why did I come here. Even in my wildest dream I could have never imagined that I would find such great friends as I have found today over a period my three year stay. They vanity in my character astray as I met the right crowd to blend in; I who was a complete fiasco became this sturdy person who happens to be friends with half the school.
We were visiting Pakistan after three years; I was nothing like what I used to be. My friends upon discovering of my visit through Facebook started making all kinds of plans to meet up. Naturally, excited as I was, agreed to all the plans not having in mind the kind of person I have become. Now I am the kind of girl who’d be considered laudable in the eyes of those who rejected me back then, for I have lived abroad someplace they only dream about residing, for I speak fluent English (better than them), for I have all the fashion sense I need (that too better than them by the way). Soon came the day of our meet, I got nervous thinking what would we even

talk about? For we have nothing left in common. Things worked out better than my imagination again, I was the one doing all the talking and they were the eager listeners; they were the same pettish people I left years ago and I was a step ahead of them. In their eyes I saw prejudice for they had never imagined that a fiasco like me could ever become someone upon whom they would ponder.

NOTE: Somewhat imagination, somewhat reality based personification.