Ninety One

I feel like I haven't progressed as much as I would have hoped to. In fact I was a bit surprised when I opened the document and realized I was on Chapter 11 instead of 7 like I was expecting. However I believe its high time I shared some of the little bits from the novel here. Feedback is much appreciated.  

 

The lights on seaview twinkled in mischief. Samir loved driving by here on the way back home. Well he did on most days but today he was on autopilot, barely noticing that he had taken the scenic route. He didn’t see the crowds or hear their laughter or utter a sigh of bliss at the way the moon caused the ocean to glitter like a bedecked bride in jewels.  He felt weary and a little surprised at Anita’s accusations.

A glass shattered into pieces. Anita rattled by the sound woke up from her slumber. Since the maids’ pregnancy it was like she had extra limbs, on a daily basis something or the other broke. Annoyed Anita often dismissed her early; she might as well look for someone new. Does feeling guilty about not feeling guilty make one a wretch? Anita mulled.

Sue tried to breath but she couldn’t. She was alive in a coffin and with every effort she made more spades of sand was thrown at her deathbed, forcing her into the slumber of the ever after. She tried to scream but her mouth had been stuffed with cotton wool. Her hands were bound together with a tight wire around her hip; the little she could do was scratch with her nails against the coffin - a whisper of a protest. Then she heard them patting the sand – miles above her - tapping in mockery. She awoke in dread. 

 What Atif and Fari come to share was what the world would have only muddied as shame, but they didn’t know and never would. It would ignite like a forest fire, lasting, impressionable, embossing their hearts forever but remaining obscure to the outside world.

Eighty Eight

I am not sure if this is a phenomenon among South Asians but I have seen that a second marriage for widowers is a really made fun of in our society. When I was in Melbourne this lady - a Sri Lankan divorcee - who had 3 grown children went on a holiday on her own to Sri Lanka. When she returned she was married. Neither her children nor she seemed to have an issue with it. In fact despite two grown girls they all seemed to be happily living under one roof; but the rest of the Muslim community gossiped like it was a huge scandal. At first I was a bit shocked, as we are speaking about a Western country, where it wasn't uncommon to hear of Muslim boys living with their Australian girlfriends and so on. But when it came to hijab clad, divorcee who deserved to have a life partner it was considered abhorring. For one she had 2 daughters and she had just let in a non-Mehram (a man who could not be according to Islamic law their guardian), then she had made the mistake of hiding the fact that she had been divorced a long time ago and that her husband was in fact much alive and single. Hence she could have just tried to reconcile with the father of her children. It became such a huge fodder of gossip, that as a student I heard it so often that eventually I had to tell my friends lets not discuss this any more.  Her son in particular was someone I worked with, and I didn't want to go through some strange uncomfortable scene.

Recently a worker of my uncles - who often does odd jobs for the family - a widower got remarried. For him, his youngest daughter refused to get married unless her father promised to marry after she left the home to live with the in-laws. But this acceptance by his children hasn't deterred the immediate Pakistani community to gossip. Apparently marriage has made him lazy, distracted and completely useless. I joke not.

I just don't understand - isn't a windowed or divorced person allowed a second chance at happiness or companionship? There are more than enough single and lonely people in the world and I believe everyone deserves the chance to move on and be happy. If tomorrow my mother wanted to remarry I would not hold it against her. But society can be brutal and now thanks to them everyone wanting that chance has to think twice or merely go ahead and turn a deaf ear to it all - and be a little selfish for once.

Seventy Four

If you expect your platonic male friends to remain the same after a fiancée or a marriage - think again. The closer you have been the further apart your going to become. So much so that in the end you cannot even fathom considering it a friendship. Maybe an acquaintanceship. The same can not be said about female friends - they perhaps have less time after marriage and children but you know even if they are bone tired they would be willing to lend a ear to a late night phone call.

The incident that recently happened involves one of my oldest friends. Granted I am extremely thankful to the support he has provided for me in the past now things have taken a turn for the worse. The person in question in M and it involves his maddeningly beautiful but completely insane fiancée D.  About 6 months back in sheer frustration at her and her rules involving how I should be friends' with M made me end things. Since then I have discovered that he has been trying desperately to contact me. A few weeks ago he finally managed to and I point blank asked him if he could be friends' with someone who refuses to attend his future wedding ceremony? He replied that he would drag me to it. I said then either she or I would end up dead. The hour-long conversation resolved nothing and then I just stopped responding to his texts and phone calls - also letting him know that I am automatically deleting every text unread. That made him stop. But it left me exhausted. This was a best friend, someone who I considered a real help during my darkest hours. How could someone like this expect to salvage a friendship after all that had transpired? Did he not even have a little respect for it all and just accept my decision? Now it is beyond repair.

The other incident involves a friend back home. J is a soldier in the Sri Lankan army. 
After I moved away we were very much in touch, then the war intensified and he got married. This time I did not even attempt to make friends with his wife - we always did talk about it and he was meant to introduce me to her but he never did. The way he changed though was all him, suddenly my emails were too crass, so I stopped sending them. When I visited the Island a few years back he - who was constantly insisting I come visit - never even bothered to come meet me even though he was in the same city. Out of respect and in an effort to avoid confrontation I distanced myself. A few months back I got a forwarded email in Sinhala and I replied saying I am dealing with the death of my father and I can't be bothered forwarding mail here - he found even that email crude. THAT was it. I asked him to kindly stop emailing me and knowing that he wouldn't, I ended up blocking him.

The need to hold on to something precious is within us all - I admit - but being human you have to recognize when something has just run its course. I am thankful that I have so many other friends but tomorrow if for some reason things ended then out of respect and appreciation for the time we did share I would move on.

Seventy

I have been told for years now that I should write a book. Being a bit hesitant as I doubt it would be so good as to be published I haven't ever attempted to. For a long while the members of my family who could have told the story of the partition and the love that my grandfather had for Sri Lanka were alive, I considered writing that story. However in time they all passed away, including my father and more recently one of his uncles, while I wilted away opportunity in contemplation. Now though I have decided to take the plunge, with one very valid mindset, I have no intention of it ever getting published. My greatest aim here in attempting this book is to see if I can do it. It is almost but not quiet a silly challenge to myself, the bigger more necessary goal is to prove once and for all that I don't do things halfway. I want to see this through and for this particular reason I maybe absent from here longer than I can predict. As always my twitter feed will continue to speak.

Sixty Three

This incident happened a few years back as I was waiting outside the administrative office of the college I attended in Malaysia; just dealing with some last minute requirements before I left the college for good to continue further in Australia. I ran into a friend from the Rotary club I was a part of and did an absolute double take at her appearance. She was so immaculate and just a few weeks ago I had her seen an absolute mess with haphazard hair and torn jeans. Apparently she had recently been brainwashed.

I don't really remember her name but for convenience sake will refer to her as R. I had known her for a while now and she seemed sensible enough but I hadn't seen her on campus for sometime so I enquired about where she had been. R started praising this seminar she had been to and learnt that she belonged in the service industry as opposed to been an academic. Fascinating I thought! Not at her words but at the changes in her, in the calm way she spoke and the politeness and confidence that she displayed.

At this point I would have been happy if she had continued to talk about herself, however, I was sadly mistaken. She launched into a huge diatribe on how she wanted me to attend a seminar and how beneficial it would be for me and so on. I suspected there was some sort of debt she owed to the people who brought about this "change" in her.

I began to feel immensely uncomfortable. With her every argument I counter-argued that for me what I wanted I had mapped out at the age of 10. I was glad for her but it was not me; eventually she stopped trying and I managed to stir the conversation in the direction of some gossip involving our Rotary leader and her loser boyfriend.

As I inwardly heaved a sigh of relief I couldn't help feeling sorry for her and this debt that she obviously had to repay - what a price for figuring out your life!

Fifty Five

There used to be a time when everything bad that happened on the Monday - and it always happened with the big important stuff - left me with a boiling rage inside. It was scalding and I normally didn't speak much on because I didn't want the after-effects to carry on for the rest of the week. Lately though having grown-up a bit since then I have learned to follow on one of my most famous advice to myself since forever that, to dress well and look good if your going to make a fool of yourself (and face it when does that not happen on a Monday?) and most importantly now when the potent "bad event" happens I shrugged it off and I carry on as usual.

However tonight I broke my rule and on receiving an email continued to pent my frustration at a possibly very well designed brochure. The brochure and hurtful email were related but that is besides the point. I think I may have reversed my calm yoga-like outlook on Mondays by at least 5 years. That given any day now the next Monday does not look good - yes I avoid the public places, confrontations, talking a lot and of course dressing really well - despite all these avoidances BUT no that calm has been broken and now next Monday does not look good.

Fifty One

Chick lit is popularly classified as books that appeal only and exclusively to women. Whenever I feel like the world doesn't understand me my best friend says go watch a chick lit movie or pick up a chick lit book. As expected they do have the desired effect.

For those unfamiliar with the effect that chick lit has let me just advise you Cinderella  was never meant to be read aloud to boys...that was and still remains one of the first chick literature books ever written. Naturally after hearing it read 5-year old girls believe that all is right with the world and one day they too will meet their price charming who will sweep them away from the ugly-step-mother and step-sister rat-hole of a life. For a female oriented book to have the desired calming effect it has to have a prince charming; the latest Irish and English authoress such as Marian Keyes and Jane Green, the hero is a charming, moderately successful, attractive man. But these element asides the man has to be unaware of the heroine and her capabilities. Often the lack of the female characters will-power and action to capture the heroes attention (unless albeit Cinderella she gets a makeover) can drive the reader insane and - want to drag her by the forelock and give her a lecture on feminism - it is the very thing that moves the book forward.

Now you would be wondering how such lack of feminist ideals can cheer a girl up? well for one in the book (if not in real life) things seem to fall into place and our mildly-sexy, always-adored (even infuriatingly) leading lady gets her man, revenge on any step-mother like characters in her life and possible indication of a bright future. This sends a rather satisfying glow through the reader (chick lit enthusiasts') mind. Hence creating a soft bubble of happiness. If you think its momentary, think again, it can be very lasting just like a good cup of coffee or talking about 'nothing' with a friend.