Blank

I have been spending my holidays staring into blank space,hoping it would be stained with words, words that flooded my mind a few weeks ago, words that were live and connected but my mind had to ignore them as it has to concentrate on words like physics, math or chemistry. Hmph!

Basically this post is about how badly i want to get something published. I fear, this would leave me being to self absorbed.

Quetta

Just a few pictures i took from my last trip to Quetta. The bottom one of the kid is not taken by me! :D

beauties of everyday life

At times when I come back home from an exhausting day at school, I often yearn to spend my evening the way I spent it one rainy day, years ago.


I love rain. It’s because of the divine symphony of rain that compels me to do so. It is how every rain drop creates a sense of being alive. It’s the monotonous drumming of the rain drops that reminds you of a well-kept memory, every time you listen to it.


And mainly because the weather of Quetta is mostly dry throughout the year so a rainy day is quite joyous for all the citizens.


It was a hectic day at school for me and all I could do was long about going back home. At that time, it was my teacher whom I went back home with. She had her own car and took full pleasure in using it as she drove through the roads of Quetta in full speed, not paying even a sliver of attention to the scrutinizing eyes of men.


So as soon as the bell rang I went to the car parking area and to add to my annoyance found out that I would be sharing my ride with two other school teachers.


I sat in a tight space between the two teachers and placed my school bag on my lap. Due to the crowdedness in the car and my tiny temper, I had the wild urge to scream out loud. But the sudden wind that gently stroked my face, banished my intentions completely. I sat upright and looked outside the window. The much appreciated clouds were hovering over us leaving dark shadows on our car, on an overly filled fruit cart, on a lonely pine tree, on everything that I could set my eyes on. It was strange how hurriedly the weather had shifted. Just in the morning people were grieving on how global warming had left no difference between the climate of Quetta and Karachi, and now they were turning off their fans and taking out the blankets covered in dust with sheer glee.


After a while our car was being bulleted by rain drops. I was jumping in my seat impatiently. I couldn’t wait to go back home and enjoy the rainy weather with my family. Rain was just what I needed to lift up my mood.


But all of my hopes crashed down once again, as my teacher announced with a deep sigh that all the roads have been blocked with water. It was a common sight in Quetta, the gutters easily get clogged and overflow with dirty water. There was only one option left for us and that was staying at some else’s house. It was clear that my patience was being tested as ‘home sweet home’ was the expression I obediently stood by.


So it was decided that we would spend the afternoon at a house of my teacher’s sister until it had stopped raining, because it was nearest location we could reach. We reached there in not less than five minutes. My anxiety for meeting new people had spread again; I was playing crazy scenarios in my head of me tripping over various objects in their house. We quickly got out of the car and went into a dilapidated apartment building. I dodged the water that gushed down from the drain pipes, the hem of trousers soaked in muddy water. As I followed my teacher in the building I heard the loud whack of a leather ball hitting against the hard woody surface of a cricket bat, echoing in the parking area. Some kids rushed past us with their feet, exploding each puddle they touched. One of them was my teacher’s nephew and he escorted us to his apartment.


We went through a curtained doorway and found my teacher’s sister and her husband waiting for us in their ‘living room’. With a long exchange of ‘salams’, we were finally seated on the huge floor cushions that covered most of the floor. Although I felt a bit relaxed I couldn’t help getting tense sitting with complete strangers. To my dismay, I found out that we would be staying for lunch.


Just as I was replaying those crazy scenarios in my head, my teacher’s sister asked me my name. I answered her three times until she understood and with a hearty laugh asked if I wanted to wash my hands before eating lunch. I was surprised how airily she asked that, how she wasn’t like most of the aunties, who ordered you around. I got up and went into their tiny bathroom.


For lunch, we had ‘palao’, the creamiest ‘lassi’ I’ve ever had and some light hearted jokes with our laughter contrasting beautifully with the noise of the raindrops in the background.


After lunch, judging by the flooded streets outside, we decided to stay for a few more hours which meant I had to take a nap. All of the teachers and I, prayed and then found places to lie down in a small but comfortable room. The room was engulfed in amber sunlight radiating from the closed curtains that fluttered because of the fans moving in high speed. Sometimes a huge gush of wind pushed through the curtains and released sunlight, illuminating half of the room with the wind tickling my feet. It was the calmest afternoon I ever had.


As soon as the rain stopped, we decided to return to our houses.


This day taught me a great deal of things. It showed me how life can be so unfair at times, but when you think back about it, you realize that it wasn’t all bitter. You are bound to find something sweet in it.


It lessened my anxiety for meeting new people.


It told me how to treat my guests. How a simple smile and a hug can gain you the utmost respect from someone, how places with good hearted people can be a reflection of your home.


It made me hate rain but then love it even more again.

Quetta cantoment, picture taken by my uncle

Salam everyone!

This is my first blogpost and has been written after weeks of planning and was almost about to perish until my desire of an escape from my daily routine grew at its peak.
However, my routine isn’t that merciful so i’m afraid I won’t be consistent with my writings here.
Take care, JazakAllah!