WHY!!

the mood pendulum swings again, and i miss you like a physical palpable ache. i lie knowing yearning. can i ever get enough of you? am i doomed to straddle two bridges between my family and you?

this will be so tedious for someone to read in the years to come. will it be our kids? our grandkids? someone like my sister A who wanted to make a family tree at 12? someone who loves reading anything they can get their hands on like me? will someone have the patience to unravel our bipolar loves and hates, and perhaps understand themselves a little better?

i don’t know i post till our anniversary. i love you. i would renew our marriage contract every five years even if you didn’t want to xx

dear z

yes you’re the first person i called this morning. it was 5:55 AM, i was upset because n’s mom passed away, and you were the only one i could think of waking up. it was just an excuse. i was so relieved to have some reason to re initiate contact. i know you don’t miss me as much, and its bloody galling on my pride to have to be the needy clingy one constantly chasing after a reluctant you. for a prince you seem pretty damn grudging of your affection. anyway. i’m not strong enough to stay away for pride’s sake. i get more out of our conversations than you do clearly. its so good to hear your voice. you’re my best friend. you understand me. i don’t know how it happened. ur calling!

dear z

baby misses you horribly. he used to kick up a storm when you would return from work and talk to him. he hasn’t kicked like that in a while. aba was talking loudly in the apt in dxb and he started kicking again hopefully, but then stopped after he realized it wasn’t you. i miss you too.

i don’t remember what you look like anymore. i only have that sense of feel – how it feels to curl up next to you, being held and knowing everything will be ok. of being kissed, that wonderful feeling of… completeness… that comes with it. the occasional hug or absent minded kiss when we passed by in the hall or from living room to bedroom.

but along with this missing, and lonliness, and aching empty nights without you snoring reassuringly next to me, is also the memory of a vague sense of disquiet. memories, shadows. of fights. of anger. of the hopeless despair that it is to be financially in the red, desperate, unable to afford anything, no food, water, servants, cleanliness. helplessness, trapped by circumstance, trying trying and trying again to fix things only to find newer and newer obstacles to achieving a happily running household. frustration. you coming home after twelve hours of work followed by eight hours of being with friends. of being lonely even when we were in the same city, living in the same house, in the same room. of the fights. god. the fights. crying crying crying, thinking of how bad this probably was for the baby and crying some more. your mouth twisted cruelly, your eyes bulging in that ugly red rimmed way they have, heaping hateful words upon hateful words. the lies, the cruelty, the horror of living. the desperation. the utter despair. the escape to my parents.

my lifeline has two parallel lines. absolutely apart, never meeting. i used to think it was because i would have an affair with you if i ever got married to anyone else. but then i changed fate – married you despite myself. perhaps the line was us all along. living happily and unhappily. living in lahore and karachi. living alone yet together. loving yet hating.

your voice reminds me of the hate. when you say i annoy you, and then hang up and then forget the nasty call and are bewildered when i’m still crying three hours later. your voice reminds me to stay away, when my body, heart and soul treacherously come back to you. what an indian movie heroine-like dilemma. i wouldn’t be able to stand watching my own lifestory on tv. how ironic.

i miss you i miss you i miss you. despite everything. despite myself. come here and take me away forever.

where did the last 2 days go? I don’t even remember anymore. work is so exhausting, so mind numbing. I will miss it so much. it is such a bad idea to quit.

atika said you’d been to her house twice. hilarious you didn’t mention it even once. nor did you mention that i was invited. you bullshit about wanting me to go out more, to be more social. where do your lies end? where do they begin?

you don’t care about me. everything you say to me alone in the room is a fucking lie. what you are is that classless whore you were today. at a birthday i fucking bank rolled. you didn’t bother asking for my involvement. you didn’t fucking bother with anything. i feel like such a damn fucking fool.

i’m left alone crying once again. in this shit smelling paint peeled ugly as ass windowless room. and you’re out. with your friends. hanging out, being the party guy.

hope its worth it. you just lost me forever.

happy 30th asshole. i hope the next 30 have nothing to do with me.

dear Z

i can’t believe we made such an awesome baby together! it was so smart – its just 13 weeks and its already waving towards the ultrasound! so cute! i feel SUCH love for it right now. I know its a her already. .

i love you again. i love it. i’m so excited, having a baby will be AWESOME! xx

Dear Z,

Once more, you snore next to me, the slow dripping of the AC breaking your siesta. Our quixotic relationship has seen another 24 hour mad LSDesque turnaround – hate on friday, love on saturday, hate again on sunday. and so the wheel turns. i have been pregnant for THREE months. THREE. we have been married for FIFTY more. did you actually think you would never have to support me? HOW did you get in 6 fucking lacs of debt AGAIN. HOW!? WHY!? was is guns, alcohol and your stupidity again? Or was it bartering my future and the future of our baby to pay for your parents – “yes I can take care of it” man when you really fucking can’t take care of anything.

i’m sick of it. i’m sick of trying to help you with your fucked up finances. I’m sick of trying to help you get out of debt. I’m sick of paying your bills. I’m sick of you. you can’t pay for me, I’ll go somewhere else. I’m sure we’ll both be relieved – let this child be my problem forever, I don’t want you to have anything to do with it if you’re too fucking stupid to manage your damn life.

you don’t have to pay for a single fucking thing. you live with your parents for Gods sakes. You would be considered the ultimate loser in western society – unfortunately, the world is full of dead beat dads. I never knew I’d fucking go out and marry the only one in middle class Pakistan.

Dear Z

you’re snoring next to me, blissfully comotose. I’m exhausted. I spent the morning crying after you abused, kicked and screamed and left for work, leaving me crumbling on the floor snot dribbling down my lips and chin, my eyes red and nose bulbous. i had to splash water on my face, put on damage repair makeup and run to my meeting 10:00 am, sans breakfast, sans energy, and a will to live with you. at 5:00 PM, dizzy with pain and fatigue, knees wobbling, i manage to somehow drive home from work without an accident and crawl into bed into an emergency faint / nap, only to wake up in three minutes and cry and cry and cry about how miserable I am. i didn’t cry once in Lahore. not once. i hate this place. its ugly. its dirty. the paint is peeling. the door handle doesn’t work. the lght switch is broken. there is mud tracked in from your shoes all over the floor. there is dog shit outside, and a cloud of helpful flies, beetles and insects feeding on it. there is no green, there is too much furniture, and i hate every single thing about the room. i’m too tired to clean the bathroom, with your piss stains on the rim, shit stains in the bowl, toothpaste spit stains in the sink, a generous dose of body hair in the clogged tub drain and the smattering of mud, dirty footprints  and dead insects on the floor. i feel ill to live here. i feel too ill to clean after a days work. what do you earn? why don’t you give me ANYTHING. how can you hate me so much to deny me my cultural and religious rights as a wife. how can you live with yourself?

i’ll never understand it. you yell and scream and use harsh words at a crying, blubbering pregnant woman who didn’t get enough sleep and who’s back is literally bruised black in pain. i am depressed. i don’t have enough to eat. if you are going to provide none of those things, at least provide me emotional comfort, companionship so i can get through this. if you can’t provide the 25,000 measly thousand for the car payment, or the 5000 for a maid, or the 2000 for groceries, or the 3000 for the next fuelling, fine. i’ll try to do it somehow. but don’t yell and scream being surprised that i’ve quit my job and am serving a notice period and that i won’t be funding your life anymore. don’t bulge your red rimmed alcohol driven eyes telling me you’ve only known for two days that you’ll have to pay for all this shit and that of course you need more time. We’ve been married for five years. I’ve paid off ALL your debts THRICE, and you continue to go on and dig yourself into debt again and again. I’ve been pregnant for 12 weeks – we’ve known for the last two months .  did you think i would continue to cook, clean, work, fuel the car, buy the groceries, take out the trash, do the dishes, clean the bathroom, do the laundry like i have been? do you think i would continue to be the husband, the wife, the child, the mother, the father for you? how could you? how will we raise this child in one filthy filthy shit stinking room?

i don’t know how i can go on. this is why i cry. this is why i can’t stop. i don’t know how this will end.