july 17th 2 am

she sits at the keyboard, insomnia driving her forward, staring at the screen as her roommate gently snores from across the room.

 

the lights from the laptop drown out all else

 

a world map away, a message from a friend flashes silently, talking from back in time (or is it in from the future?)

 

heat seems so far away. so alien. she is so used to shopping for coats, and layering up, and walking impossible distances for the most mundane of things. writing seems so alien. she is so alien. an alien in residence, soul identical to her colonial masters, skin the hated brown and hair the hated black. saying stupid alien things like dustbin, without ice, pack this to go, try room. yet manfully, she tries.

 

*******

 

someone else snores next to her. deeper snores. louder, from the hollows of a fat neck and allergic congested nose. of waking up from a dirty dream with him inside her, doing unspeakably naughty things in the dark under a blanket.

 

of waking up to him kissing her, saying “you are beautiful, i am lucky to have married you”

 

of being awake, and seeing him in a photograph with another woman. realizing that the couple pose is some oedipal blur, and the woman is actually his mother. the fault is not with the viewer, the mother is possessively snuggled up to her son, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, more couple like than the disconnected and disparate photographs of the actual parents.

 

for an instant, she can see the claws on the witch, hooked deep into her sons soul. Terrified of letting the only true man in her life live independently.

 

“the biggest problem I have is with the weird and unhealthy relationship he has with his mother. If he would listen, I would tell him about Freud. How all boys have deep oedipal urges, but having the alpha male (i.e. the father) assert their rights on their mother puts these little boy perverts in their place, and eventually the feelings are suppressed. In this boys case, the father is not an alpha male. His children (including the daughter) take the authoritative role (including financial decision making) in the household, therefore, the urges were never suppressed, and they were made worse by the mother’s encouragement. They both need treatment.”

 

The wife is always the victim. The casualty in this comic tragedy.

 

Poor poor wife. Boo hoo sob sob, my husband is a loser, I must make sure my son is not like him.

The cycle repeats itself for another generation.

Two worlds up, men are slightly more independent, as are the women (which is also a problem). Men do girly things like ironing, cooking, the dishes, the trash, the yard work. They work like hamsters on speed (or meth or whatever it is called these days) on holidays and every non-work related hour to contribute to the household. They are still annoying, do not ask for directions, don’t do the housework their wives ask them to do, have affairs, have slightly unhealthy relationships with their mother and become unbearable bastards in all male company. However, women are freer, can kick their sorry motherfucking asses and keep the house if they so much as raise a hand at them.

And for that alone, I forgive this world and its men all its flaws. I want to live here forever and never go back.

sunday

i think the human mind can adapt to pretty much anything. vegetarians can eat other human beings, drink their blood and gouge their flesh, devouring, tearing as our baser instincts for survival kick in. a normal healthy man can saw through muscle and bone of his own arm with a blunted butter knife to walk home to his family.

war torn rape pillaged villagers continue sowing crop and reaping the harvest, ad executives step over their dead bosses and handle accounts, crowds watch in glee as a public flogging rips open backs and sinews and tendon of one of their own.

children, small children, blast holes into the faces of their friends and cheer at a frag won, little girls slice open frogs intestines and lab coated ghouls infect small white furry creatures with every disease known to man to kill them off in the name of science.

and women. battered abused women, go back to the place all the horrors occurred. mothers continue to put up with the awful excesses husbands enforce on them, forty years of submission and berating and awful awful bucolic rage because that is the way of life.

a small green seed will push through the hardest substance known to man and grow in the face of a mountain of hardened black lava. one sperm out of 5 million will swim up a giant canal 50 times its size and impregnate one tiny egg, salmon will swim upstream fighting a G-force that would knock the eyes out of a human pilot to mate and die, and life goes on, just as it always has, skewed towards stupid males who spend their time in ignorance, perpetuating injustice in the name of humanity and women continue to support them for survival.

saturday

Lying on the ground. Cheek on the dirty carpet. Can see the dark under the bed.

His booted foot, his grunts as he labors from the exertion of slapping you so hard you fell.

His shoe, winding back, connecting with your stomach, the pain less than the shock and the feeling of disbelief, betrayal and hatred.

He’s sitting across from you next to your mother, laughing at a story your father is telling him. Everyone is eating a nice civilized meal, relieved you are going back to the lying disrespectful bastard. You choke down the bile with a genteel sip of mineral water.

He tells you that the vacation you’ve been planning with your family can’t happen.

This petty, small minded fucking fool.

And you know hate.

The cold, simmering kind that will twist your gut and give you cancer.

And you know you can kill him.

Watch him bleed to death and walk away without a qualm for the rest of your life because he deserves it.

And all you can do is plan how it’ll happen so you’ll finally get rid of him

Hey asshole,

so lets see.

i have had to shift cities 4 times in 2 years because of you. i gave up my job, my life, my family for you, only to be met with unwelcome hostility, lack of enthusiasm about starting our life together, entire nights within the first week of our marriage which you spent out with your friends without me, entire days where you ignored me because you wanted to play playstation. you then proceeded to beat me and alienate me from your family. there were also instances in the middle where you didn’t let me enter the room (as if you were an angst ridden teen and i was your mother) when your friends were in there because you didn’t want me around because “you guys couldn’t talk while i was there”

then of course you never gave me any money, even after you encouraged me to quit my job so i had no funds of my own. you spent all my savings, didn’t leave me money for even water or food, and spent entire days at work without a care in the world. then of course you got jealous when i took money from my parents and started socializing with my own friends. you broke my phone, dragged me out of the house in my pajamas and proceeded to beat me again.

and i still get back together with you! after i come back, you don’t bother apologizing for anything, your sister leaves me locked out of the house for 2 hours because she has “errands to run”, doesn’t let me use the driver to go the Emergency room when my foot is swollen to the size of a football, and then proceeds to bully me in every way from not letting me use my own groceries to not letting me use the kitchen fridge for my own food. and you defend her every step of the way, tell your parents a whole lot of private shit that you shouldn’t have, and then proceed to humiliate my parents by heaping my issues in front of them without consdering any of your injustices.

you agree to a separation, then proceed to cuddle with me and try to have sex with me the same night.

your sister steals my laptop and debit card and you say nothing.

you misplace your watch and call me a robber and a whore when i find it for you.

you lock up the house so i can’t get to the kitchen to pack my things, pull a gun out and shoot holes in my painting collection.

i have to tell all the people at work and my friends and move to a different city, start living with my parents, see a therapist, endure endless discussions on marriage and men, all without knowing if we are using this separation to get over each other or to try to find the best solution to work it out. all the while you ignore all my attempts to talk about where we are or what we’re supposed to do, telling me you hate me and are not interested in talking to me. you tell me “please don’t contact me again”, and whine and complain about me to my dad (“she’s sending me emails, tell her to stop”, “she’s writing about me in her blog, tell her to stop”, “she’s sms-ing me tell her to stop”)

then i have to eventually make a trip to Karachi, stay without a car or an ATM card at my poor sisters house, and then quit my job and move back.

then, two months later of “not being interested in reconciliation or therapy”, it dawns on your stupid selfish head that we’re still fucking married. you start sms-ing me, trying to discuss the situation (with a lot of childish rejoinders like “i hate you” “you’re still so annoying” thrown in) basically suddenly feeling the absense of having someone to talk to, and the only way you can contact me is by trying to be as hurtful as possible in some kind of sick way to talk to me, yet at the same time communicate your hate. then the brilliantly eloquent sms – saying something badly worded and totally misspelt to the tune of “i miss you in my bed”

THEN

the cherry on all this

you call me yesterday at 1:00 am, tell me you’re coming next week, and i need to drop everything because you, lord and master, has decided to grace this city with your presence. for work! not even for a trip here. you’ll basically are deigning to talk to me about the marriage .. and why? because “you don’t want a paper marriage. you hate me, you don’t want me near your family and you don’t think it will ever work out between us”.

so you want to have sex because you’re horny, and you can’t do it with me, so you need to start the divorce proceedings because you want to jump into another marriage.

ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?

IS THE WORLD FUCKING CRAZY!? WHY CAN’T THEY SEE YOU’RE INSANE?!?

late monday night

“I still hate you, but sometimes i rollover in bed thnkn your right next to me.” – 20/05/06 2:06 am

you’re eloquence leaves me speechless. is this what i fell so hard for?

*snort*

my head and my heart tell me different things too. i guess we’ll just have to deal with it

monday night

Dear M

opportunity knocks only once?

thank you for trying so hard to introduce me to your plethora of single boys. i’m sure they’re cute, i’m sure they’re rich. i don’t want to meet any of them.

i was in the lounge, and there was actually a cute man there. Nerdy, lap top carrying, intently working at 11:00 pm. Could anyone have been more tailor made to attract me? I ignored him. He tried talking across the freezing silence, and I didn’t bother even once. Got up because I was too cold to bother, and went and stood in line instead.

On the plane? My God. The First hot man i’ve seen since Z. and maybe K. oh and N. anyway. he was cute. wholesome, strapping, the kind that would go camping and know how to light fires and stuff. delicious delicious accent. and i was too busy yawning so hard my eyes got tears. i was so so sleepy, i was comatose. he read my newspaper, and i woke up in the middle and took the comics page, and tried to sleep write my way through the crossword.

did i try to strike up a nice conversation? did i even make the slightest effort? did i even care about the ocean on possibilities fate was throwing my way.

no.

why!? WHY!?

i know. you give up.

maybe after the d word is final?

Monday evening

To whom it may concern

Yes today was a bad day. a day that should have been busy but spiralled to oblivion. to darkness and tears and lost wandering. of contemplating a lovely warm bath pooled with lovey red droplets from slit wrists. of fear. fear and receeding to a place a boy recently went to.

we are all made of promises. broken verses, stilted requests, longings unyearned and desperately still wanted.

where do i go? what do i do? how can i go back to them when their time of taking care of me is over.

i miss them. badly. being emotionally dependant on my mother because i am unworthy of being dependant on myself. what good is that? being alone will just lead to nothingness.

i miss…. being there. being a part of two. having someone to lean into in the middle of the night despite their groaned protests. having someone lazier than i am do my stuff for me. being driven around. not having social anxiety. not having a single stigma.

why does everything always end in tears?

Thursday evening

Dear Parents

This is what I have been silent about for the last year. This is what he did to me that I cannot speak about. It’s not a big deal anymore, I’ve bounced back. Don’t worry. I’ll find someone more suitable – all the issues I had with him have only made me learn that things like upbringing, background, schooling – they all matter. I had thought that because he lived in an awful tiny little house in an embarrassing part of town wouldn’t matter – that his lack of money, money mindedness, his lack of intellect, lack of ambition would be off set by his sweetness and caring. The caring dried up the day we got married – literally the same day. Everything else followed, and I tried to not tell you, because I like handling things on my own, and the last thing i wanted was to distress you. I learnt one thing – that no matter how much I hated Z, I loved you guys. Why should he sully your happiness of a child “well” settled?
Z had no such compunctions. He vomited out all his distresses like the spoilt little child he was to his mummy dearest. He ran to her at every opportunity – she once advised me not to use contraceptives (!). I can only assume he admitted that we used them, and told her (and blamed me as the perpetuator). Freak.
Anyway. This is what you do not understand. This is what I have been subjected to in the last year. This is what I have been silent about.
This is what you know:
His sister is psychotic – she sits at home all day, no friends, no job, no education beyond A levels, and tries to copy me in every way. I bought those sofa’s for the living room? She had them next month. Those Sunday bazaar cutlery and glasses? Next week she trotted off and bough the same ones in a different color (very single white female). Same for my beige capri’s, makeup (if she could afford it), and when she couldn’t buy my laptop she stole it. And in this glorious enthrall, she cooked up every single inventive way she could to torture me. You know how oblivious I am – i managed to ignore it for a year, till it became too much. She stopped me from using my own groceries. She stopped me from using the kitched fridge. She screwed with me, and I had had it. I didn’t like Z, and I sure as hell didn’t have to be treated like dirt from this pathetic insignificant bitch. and even then i tried to tell her to back off. and then i didn’t. i started defending myself from that pathetic family who were enthralled with me, yet hated me from reminding them of the losers they were.
His parents have no opinion of their own – they helplessly yield like soft moulded putty into their children’s hands. They have unfortunately raised children with no morals, no ambitions, sloth like pudgy shapeless beings that perpetuate all the injustices I could never believe existed in society. They will never amount to anything, staying in the hole they were born in.

This is what you don’t know:
The week after you left, he went out every night for weeks. Alone. He didn’t want me there, and said I was horribly clingy when I asked where he was. I was expecting him to be so excited about our new life together. Why did he want to leave me? I don’t know. I don’t know where he went or what he did.
He went one evening, and I told him I would lock the door if he did it again. He did, and I did. And then he beat me for the first time that night. One month into our wonderfully love marriage. I had to go for one of the many shaadi dinners the next day. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t stand. Everything hurt for weeks. I didn’t tell anyone. Anyone. Not even myself

The next time he did it, it was a minor incident, but I told his mother. His mother who said I was like her own, who said I should treat her like a mother. I told her, and she said her son would never do wrong and that I shouldn’t have thrown a book at him because if I did that again, being slapped and thrown to the ground was what I should effect.
I realized how alone I was then.

The third time he did it, I packed my bags and told you. You sent me back, and broke my heart. More than that insignificant reflection of a human being did.

I’m here now. Thank you for for swooping in when you did. The cavalry charge. For better or for worst.

I did what I had to do to get here.

I’ll be fine.

You raised me well.

Thursday night

Dear Z

It’s so sad that you felt the need to forward my emails to my dad. How lame are you. I cringe to think I know you, let alone married you.

But it’s now (a little) amusing as well. With every childish maneuver, with every tattle, with every complaint about my behavior my father is slowly understanding what you are – a tiny vacuous small minded petty criminal. He cannot believe that you – while being so wrong – can cling to the illusion that you are right. He is still (as I was) waiting for you to come to your senses and realize how stupidly you are acting. I stand in the shadows and let you weave your magic, and my father too will eventually realize how pathetic you truly are.

Good luck with whatever you will do. I am so terribly glad that awful spell I was under is over. Self esteem back, I forge ahead to the much greater life that I have always led.

Lots of affection, still a little bit of love, and a lot of indifference,

S

PS: I strongly suggest you bathe your nether regions more often, you’ll get far more sex from your future wife / girl friends. Should you need any more tips (and really – you need a lot –) feel free to come to me.

Saturday night

Dear S

I am sorry too.

I was an ass. You were the most special thing to happen to me. I’m sorry I screwed up. I should have listened to you more, I should have taken more care of you. I should have been the friend you expected me to be. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m the dumb guy I am. I’m sorry I didn’t defend you or care for you as I had promised.

But honestly – I tried to the best of my dumb ability. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. It was really frustrating for me to see you so obviously unhappy because of me. It was frustrating that my house and my servants weren’t good enough. It was frustrating that no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t make you as happy as you obviously are with your own family – or as happy as you used to be before we were married.

I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry for all the fights and the way I handled them – I could have managed them better. I’m sorry I still feel therapy will not help us – you and I are just too different, and as much as we hoped this would work, we must realize that it is time to let go of that fantasy because its just not practical. I will never give you what you want – love, attention and maturity that is beyond my years. I cannot give you the impeccably run house, the dignity of speech, the loving caring side of my personality anymore because the unpleasantness of the last month was too much – I told my parents too much. I belittled you and bad mouthed you to them and my friends and my work people because I couldn’t stand to know that you would do the same – and be more right than me. Its gone beyond my control now. My family will never accept you again – now can I. but please know this – I loved you. I love you a little still – which is why I want to torture you as much as possible and some how prolong all contact with you while trying to prove I hate you. You were always smarter and better than me. You came from a background and upbringing that I envy – that I wished to give to my children. I am proud to have been with you for the time that we were. I am sorry things turned out this way – but we’ll bounce back. In another ten years I’ll marry again – and make sure she’s young and dumb and poorer than me this time . you’ll probably get married within this year to someone older and richer and cooler – from the right school and the right ivy league and the right set of friends and will take you to all the places I couldn’t. I want you to know that I wanted to. I wanted you and I believed everything could be perfect despite it all. I’m so sorry its not.

With all my love and my heart,

Z