Scrubbing the Dishes

Scrubbing the dished, seems like a easy lame job but today since mom is not feeling well and i am as usual doing the dishes, i realized how hard its gets when you have to scrub off that portion of the dried out cornflake from the porcelain bowl you left without a rinse in the morning to make thing worst that left over 20 ml of tinted coffee from the breakfast in the morning stunk really bad in the mug. but its not just that, I also realized how inconvenient that stupid fancy dish washing contraption I bought for mom is, no wonder she never used it.

Lesson learned ; I wont waste money on those fancy stupid contraptions anymore.

The valley of poisonous mushrooms

I am boggled, I am drained , and i am tired , i am on the verge of disowning the society in which i had always been a misfit, a society to which i tried to give so much,  but my efforts kept going to a waste paper basket, or rather a garbage shredder from which even the the tiny bits of the good i did were not retrievable and than to make it worst i was taken advantage of by a number of pseudo human right activists and that number made the majority, a dominating majority so strong that nothing good bypassed their vicious circles , they filtered everything milked it, juiced it, and only but filled their pit less pockets.

Than came the world of art, I thought this was a world of pure expressions, where people with greater visions will be expressing their concerns, where artists will be dipping their canvases to open to the larger truth but i was soon introduced to the grim reality. The expressions of the majority of the main stream, leading local artists were only but busy cashing into the sensations of today’s international popular believes. Their works are void of any emotional connection with their soul, they are utterly a product, produced to a formula, not to raise an issue or voice a concern, but only to serve the hunger for the sensation the world has to attract the buyers and cash into the exaggeration of a very shallow vision.

I found it suffocating to realist how the majority of the local art dealers and gallerist were making and breaking artists, manipulating and controlling the local art scene. Any one who would appose these lobbies and the bigwigs of this art world would never get a show in any leading gallery of the city, you rub them the wrong way and you as an artist are doomed, of-course unless you are rich and wouldn’t care if the local galleries allow you to show with them or not and you take your work abroad and make a mark internationally.

but then I see, although very few but honest artists, I realize  there will be a time when people will see how shallow and superficial the works produced from this region are , how in the name of “contemporary” was used to manipulated the international market. A work of art is like a book it reveals its secrets in layers with time, it will spell out every single truth, and when that happen the bubble will burst and we will are see a spectacular blue sky and bright sunshine which will wither to death this valley of poisonous mushrooms, the destroying angels of today art world and all the fool’s funnels among the social activists.

Urdu two liner for female friends

Jab un ke nazrain hum ko kam kaheen aur zara zayada daikhain ,
Dill yeah chahay unn ankhoon main hum mircha phainkain

How ironic that…

How ironic that we live in a society where expressing love is more difficult than expressing hate.

A Perfect Misfit

I have always been a total misfit for the society I belong to, some events of the past few months made me ponder a little and I realized how different , difficult and different I am from the rest of the world and why.

I have been brought up inspired by the stories like of my great grandfather who once gave shalter to an eloped couple, giving his quilt and bed to them and staying up and awake all night long shivering in the winters. Stories of my grand mother and another distant relative of hers who dispite of living in a tiny hut used to to present the little food in their house to the guests while they starved themselves. How they gave their little precious belongings to whoever liked them.

the stories of my grandfather who always went out of the way to help others, he worked as a tailor and earned very little yet again he spent days and nights helping others for the sake of humanity. the story of my parents spiritual mentor who had instructed not to judge anyone and had a female sex workers as some of his followers and he wouldn’t let anyone talk bad about them and would told his followers it’s a matter between God and them and we have no right to judge them. And countless other such stories .

To make it worst, or I would now say even better since my childhood I have seen my parents treat any other kids who started to come to our house as their own, if she would buy a toy for me she would buy him / her a toy of the same value too. Or if they couldn’t afford to buy us anything we both won’t get it – My mother always said , “Son he will feel bad if I will buy you a toy (or a candy or something) and not him”

Whenever mother would go out, despite all hardships she would buy little things for others and wont go to anyone’s house empty handed, she would cooks food for the whole party in the neighbor’s house and would do countless things for others. All she could do

Despite all this since we have always been financially struggling and since we were easy to take advantage of people and even relatives took advantage of this sincerity and left us alone or parted from us after a short time .

I lived a very lonely childhood, no friends lasted more than a few weeks, the school friends were kept at a distance because we had not much money to throw parties so I wouldn’t attend theirs too . relatives were almost non existence. But the values were deep imbedded in me, also to make it worst I got inspired by my mother’s writings and being brought up listening to Faiz and all the other Gazals of the time I was a feminist, rebellion leftist who cared a F&%$ for what people thought.

This turned out to be lethal mix I guess, since early childhood boys and girls used to emotionally blackmail me , “ you are my brother get me some raw mangos from your tree please “ ,yes they were smart kids . I was no less a cracked head I used to know what they are up to after a while but I thought “ I cant change for these fools” and used to get careful .

Also in early ages I had learned about the patriarch notions in the literature and would refuse to write “He” for the unknown gender, I would always write “human beings” rather than “mankind” . The teacher wouldn’t get tired crossing out my assignments for this and I would refuse to give up .

Time passed and I grew up into an overly sensitive young man who would cry over emotional clips . who would argue and disconnect with any boy would gaze at women, or would indulge in any antifeminist act or talk. I would give my 100% honesty to the people, would care and go out of the way for them and would later get dumped after I was no more useful to them.

After a while I grew smarted and chose friends very carefully, but due to all the emotional trauma of being used and abused I would look for confirmations and reconfirmations that the other person wont just dump me half way.

The lifelong training has made me very resilient, I worry little about what people would think, now I rebel fashion trends, common thoughts, stereotypes, snobbery and other social cancers which are eating away the beauty of the societies of the world. I wear my odd persona boldly with complete honesty and transparency. I make mistakes I confess, I say sorry publically but where I think I am right I announce that too openly and boldly.

But this too has its problems, my extremely odd, sensitive and caring personality often gives people a wrong idea, they took the extreme politeness for flirtation or maybe they think I have alternative motives and it is true in the efforts for doing something for others I often do injustice to myself too. I have much impatience, I get anxious and worry too much if they would leave me and at times still look for reconfirmations of their honesty. But its also my power, My power as a social human rights activist, that I feel deeply for the cause I work for and give my complete self and honesty to it.

In the past few months I have realized I am a very abstract person for those who know me well enough hold on to me knowing that I am at least not dishonest and would sacrifice anything for them and those who don’t, and think of the evil plots I may have against them or others I really don’t care, they are just people, part of the masses, part of the society I simply don’t belong to. I am born an odd person that is part of my personality, and I am born to rebel who swims against the currents the wounds and hurt are my strength and my power which might bring a some positive change one day the society before my times is up. After all I too am just a speck on the timeline, a speck which is bound to vanish sooner or later.

It’s all about balls..

There are two kind of humans on this planet (which is like a playground ), one who are people and the others who have balls; I mean who are Balls. The ball(s) sit in the center,  (of the playground of course), happy to be surrounded by the people, the ball likes to have all the attending  people give to it and it thinks they are in love with it until the whistle blows and the game begins .

If it’s match of football, rugby or hockey, the ball is suddenly approached from all sides , Its eyes bulge out our of excitement that humans have finally decided to accept it as one of them , but a ball is a ball and nothing more or less than a ball. There is a reason balls are also called nuts, because they are nuts, totally crazy and brainless nuts, don’t they look at them selves !, they are round, rolling all around all to see that attention of the creature they are not . Well it bounced with excitement and all of a sudden one kick, followed by the second and the third, and so on until either the ball is no more or the players decide to take a break .

but in case of cricket, where the humans decide to pick the ball up in their hand, the ball all red and bright becomes very happy until it the player decided to rub it against his crouch, the ball screams “eewww”. Poor thing its too late, its already in the air hurling towards another human being , and right before it could think of anything , “Zittakh” a wooden bat touches the body of the ball so fast it knocks the senses (the very few it has) out of its tiny body .

well the ball is a ball, its silly and small, it does not accept who it is and keeps rolling here and there for its own little interests, wish only if it was a cube, which accepts its self as nether the ball not the human, it would have sat on a pedestal as an statement that it exists , its red bright or lime green would have been an inspirations , it would have touched a few precious souls and may have brought smiles on a few faces  too.   

A hopeless moment in life.

I had never thought it would be such a challenge to survive through a society where honesty rarely found, specially for someone like me who who is extremely sensitive and tries his level best to make sure every he is never even slightly dishonest to anyone around him.

All my life I have always detested hypocrisy and have done all in my might to live as honestly as I could but it seems the people of the society I was born in have seen and experienced so much of negativity, hypocrisy and dishonesty that they failed to accept a lunatic of my sort.

In the past three decades that i have spent on this planet earth I have experienced a lot of hardships, I was taken sheer advantage of for my honesty since my early childhood even by some of my close relatives. People thought I wouldn’t notice, but no one is born a compleat fool so well I did and I started to draw lines not to let them use me upto a certain point .

This started to filter out a lot of foes from my friends, literally leaving me almost alone. Later iLife I started to work for NGOs but soon I realised but then I realised that people working for a cause too were actually taking me for a ride. And again I started to draw more lines and made sure again that I am not taken advantage of the process of falling down face first getting up riding again, adding more guards and yet being stabbed in the back yet again in a different manner continues till date.

With time and experience I learned that when one is being honest s/he automatically starts to expect the same from others and tends to trust people more often and more conveniently, I also realised that during the practice since you tend to be truly sincere with others you give out a lot of information you shouldn’t have. and people knowing you inside out do figure out your weaknesses, and playing with your emotions, manage to bluff and backstab you more conveniently.

But all these backstage, taking advantage of and being used ( or abused ), had never put me off, it only made me more stronger and better but but in the course of time what really brought me down and and has probably now shattered me completely is something completely different.

There are countless good people who i came across in this period of time who have at one point or another have seriously questioned my sincerity, honesty, sensibility and even my sensitivity . They continue to try and figure out why I am have been so honest, why I am so caring and they always come up with bizarre conclusions and decide to get rid of me. They are so frightened of their own insecurities or maybe they are just taken back by the alien personality that i seem to have, which at this point in my life i can’t Really change, scares them really far away from my life.

In short people refuse to understand me they are either busy figuring my alternative motives or ways to use and abuse my intentions but sadly their are none who would take inspirations from me, or trust enough to work hand in hand. They are collectively draining my energies and making it more difficult to survive through it all.

Yes i believe everyone needs some people who won’t question their intentions, and be with them as friends or maybe its only me who has this weakness but at this point in life, today while typing these words I am seriously thinking of going into an isolation and starting a new journey to find a place with better hopes and a slightly more sensitive people. a place which would have atleast some positivity rather than having nothing to cling to and no one around who would be willing to understand.


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