failure

I've had my share of failure. Not one but many. And as i failed each time, i would withdraw further, cringe and give up. Life had become a constant...my thoughts justified each other. Id lay in bed at night, thinking, wondering, cursing myself for not having the guts to face failure, for not having the guts to be who i was, to be ME.

For me, escapism was the way out...
the door was open, the feet ready to walk out. but the mind was fickle, diffident, changing the moment it was made up....

those days were agony, that time was tortuous and not because of my experiences--those paled in comparison to my thoughts.
I was faithless. I dint have faith in God, in my family, in myself...

The mind is a funny entity. it can torture u no end, but can fool u into believing that all is well....

slowly and steadily i picked up the pieces, learnt from my mistakes, reined my mind in.
gradually i grew out of the shell i had hidden inside, broke open barriers and as i lifted my face up to the sky and the sun's rays shone down on me...i was a new person

I cant say that i left that failure behind, but i kept it in mind, it was always my driving force...to succeed to not be who i used to be. to remain ME.

trapped

The view was obscured by bars
His little fists held on for dear life
The free bird was caged again

As he looked out, he could hear the laughter and sound of children playing
Tears streaming down his cheeks, he wondered why he was here,
Why was he trapped again?
All he wanted was to go, fly away
Away from the life he was born with

Tear-streaked, his sobs were relentless
He trudged slowly back to his iron bed,
Head bowed, feet dragging, a look of defeat
The very image of hopelessness

full circle

she was alone, side tracked...

they were at it like cats and dogs...

always shouting, crying, being stubborn

all of them.

things changed, they washed their hands off each other

she grew up, apparently the "angel"

timid, restrained, subdued...

refused to come out of her shell,

never knowing there was one!

time passed, the hatred, the anger increased.

the few moments of peace and love gave her relief.

sometimes reality was too hard to digest

so she stayed away.

somewhere inside she believed that only one was right...

time passed, she changed, became a person of her own

formed her own identity, carved her own niche

away from them, she saw them for who they were

just wounded human beings, having gotten into something vicious,

being unable to get out of it.

and all she could be was a silent spectator

accepting that it was all she could do...

watch them....tears dropping silently

onto her folded hands

in a prayer for peace, normalcy...

a tribute to home...

What is it about this place we call home? What is it that a mere slur against the very name makes our blood boil… The place where many of us were born and many of us spent more than half our lives….what is it that a mere song or a tale brings back rushing moments of the joys and sorrows we felt?

Our escapades, our near scrapes with the authorities…the overnights, the walks along the airport road…the memories of meeting in Lulu centre…Annual day and Khareef festival—the highlights of the year…the numerous picnics, the field trips….the Jabals, the camels…bus rides…sports day… the choir!!

Yet, we yearned for our freedom, from the oppressive environment, and yet the heart craves to go back to the place where we once “were.”

A photograph, a place, a person brings back so many memories that tears well up and we ache to return home, return to the place where we first learnt to walk, where we made our first friends, where we made our best friends, where we discovered our talents, a place where we lost the people dearest to us, where we found the people dearest to us….

The bonds we created there were the strongest ever…people who dint matter then have become so much more important to us today…a random person from school adds us on FB and we immediately accept, an attempt to move closer to where our heart is…

Salalah, the heart of Oman, the oasis in the desert, our home… has become our haven, a place to heal, to recuperate, to bask in the memories of our childhood, to go back to the time when life was innocent and childlike, when we dreamt of bigger things, bigger places….we’ve reached where we wanted to…but our heart is still stuck where it was…

Some may call it a fool’s paradise, which practically speaking, it may be, but I’d (and many of us) rather be a fool than let go of my home…

Catharsis...Part 2

I'm so bored... m home alone...and normally I'm most comfortable being with myself .... but i guess the only thing i can blame this restlessness on is the fact that I'm no more used to being alone for so long, and its getting to me.. to top it all, all my friends are busy and m not keeping too well... so now I've become bitchy and cranky and taking it out on people who cant help it... Im not liking my self right now :(

there is so much i can do but Im either too tired or too lazy... feeling sick being home all day... not used to it.. its high time i went out... not now obviously given that its 1230 am. this has to be one of the most boring Sundays of my life for sure.....

Catharsis...Part 1

There are times when I just feel like writing whatever comes to my mind….I mean if I actually record whatever I think in the entire day, each day would fill a book. Sometimes I wonder at the capacity of my mind to think so much. There are times when the feelings, so closely connected with my thought stream, overwhelm me to such an extent that I actually want to vent out. I feel like writing, verbatim, what I’m thinking, but it just never comes out right. So frustrating

We’ve been having continuous counseling lectures ever since our third semester ended. In a way they’ve been a learning experience, especially as far as the practical aspect is concerned. And I realized that somewhere just talking to a third person about any problem in life, and being accepted and attended to wholly, makes me feel so much lighter. I don’t remember when introspection became a big part of my life, but I know that there are times when I’m feeling very uncomfortable and wonder why, and then I introspect, peer into my mind and try to detect whatever is disturbing me. Off late, I’ve come to realize that I haven’t really had a very happy childhood. Somewhere I feel I just “was.” If you ask me what I remember most vividly about childhood, I wouldn’t have a thing to say. Coz somewhere I really don’t remember anything significant. As I’m writing this, a million memories come to mind, but somewhere I don’t feel satisfied that any of these are THE one.

I’ve realized that I tend to be extremely self critical. I feel that most things I think or feel aren’t right, but then it’s ok as long as I don’t act upon or express those feelings. But somewhere, another chord strikes in my mind, where I feel that maybe its normal to feel this way, maybe others think in the same manner, and like me, don’t express it. Its weird, but its true.

If I were to describe myself, I’d say I’m a person who seems very cool, calm, and confident on the outside, but somewhere inside, I’m a lost little girl. I’m not perfect, nor am I a very imperfect person. There are extremely nasty sides to me that I always curb because I know that thinking or acting in those ways are not correct. Somehow I feel that I have begun to analyze myself and discover my true self more, and u know what?? I’m not liking it. I don’t like who I am on the inside. Hey, I’m not ALL bad. I do have good qualities: I can love and give and care, I am a loyal friend, helpful, Independent, responsible… I have talents, I’m fairly intelligent.

Somewhere it crosses my mind that maybe, just maybe, I expect too much from myself. That I’m so intent on being the perfect person that I expect to be, that I forget to concentrate on the real me. There is a therapy in psychology wherein it is important to be able to strike a balance between the real and the ideal self. Somewhere I think that I need to do that. Bring what I am to people closer to what I feel I actually am….

sacrifice...

She walked with a quiet determination

Her fair feet kicking up the dust

The golden bells at her ankles tinkling cheerfully

Reverberating in the silence surrounding her

Slowly, she stepped on to the hot embers

Her soft flesh burning

Not once did she wince

Not once did she cry out

Her silent spectator—a mere distance away—looked on

And she looked at him, a fire in her eyes

A triumphant look

Quickly replaced by profound sadness

The fire licked at her body

But not one inch of her burned

She was a flaming goddess

Enveloped in the golden red flames

The time was up

Slowly and steadily, with an unwavering look

She stepped down and walked towards him

Her blistered feet silently sifting the dust

He held out his hand, she walked past him

Her agnipariksha—symbol of love and devotion

was over

Her sacrifice was made….

she...

Her white hair is a halo around her face,

Her face a mass of creases

Her eyes shining bright, she looks at me

As though her piercing glance can see what I’m feeling

Her shrivelled hands tremble as they touch my face

It’s been long since I met her,

Yet it feels like just yesterday

The light around her is white, blinding

She looks so serene, at peace with herself

The love in her eyes as she looks at me—immeasurable

And as I watch her coming closer

Her shriveled frame surprisingly graceful,

I feel as if I’m looking at myself,

A mirror image of what I may be tomorrow

Disclaimer: the two posts below, i dont believe are the best of my work--whatever little there is of it--however, i had this need to vent and write, and my feelings have come out the best that they can...the "feelings" post is very private, very personal...those who know me can understand--i hope...yet, i must confess that this is a raw form of my emotions--no farce, no facade..just me.

feelings....

I’m struggling with my feelings,

I don’t know what it is… a desperate melancholy, emptiness, maybe hope??

There’s the rock and the hard place, and then there’s me, stuck in between

And no matter how much I try, I’m probably going to die of claustrophobia…

So many feelings, so many thoughts, so many memories surround me,

The ink on the paper spreads, creating a pattern of swirling emotions,

I wanna laugh, I wanna cry, I wanna feel like never before,

I wanna dance, swirl in his arms, where there is just me and him…

There is so much I want, yet so much that comes with it that I don’t…

What is higher? My identity, my pride, the perceptions I have created through these years?? Or is all that matters just me and him??

But then, just me and him, is not all that matters to him…is it??

Is this even about us?? Is this just a fantasy of being in love, sharing intimate moments?

Or is it true love?? The thing that people live their entire lives to search for…

That movies and novels describe,

But these past 4 years have taught me so much more…

i can love, i have found love, and i believe in it... but is it enough??

Where does it all end? Where do I come to a standstill and choose?

A choice that will affect us all, whether it’s for the good or the bad…

But the emotions remain, my feelings still swirling in the pit of my stomach,

And I can’t think, I can only feel…

Maybe ill wish on a shooting star or ill kneel down and bend my head in penance at the altar

Or ill talk to God one on one

Till then, I can only feel…