Phases. I go through them. Yesterday, I was searching for a part of me and found some truly uplifting words about myself. I had no idea, I had forgotten. How soon we forget the good things. I do not know the person and he has disappeared from that scene, but I had no clue my journal entries had made such an impact on him.
It is easy to fake humility, so I won’t. It is also possible that the person has changed his mind, but these words in response to an article are precious and, in the state I am in, a reassurance:
“…after reading writings such as these, I am an even bigger fan of her iLogs, which so reminds me of a remark that Manto (Saadat Hassan) made after being ‘disappointed’ after meeting Ismat (Chugtai): ‘the wretch turned out to be a mere woman afterall’. That holds true of Farzana as well.
Farzana, I don`t agree with all that written above (in the article), but I am forced to re-examine my reality - again and again - and I thank you for that.”
- - -
What is my reality?
I can understand being loved, being missed, but being forgiven? Am I being forgiven for being loved and missed? Am I being forgiven for not understanding that love, that feeling of being missed? Am I being forgiven for my absence or my presence? I sometimes do not understand…
And since I do not know why people leave, I do not understand why they say they come back for me…people leave for their reasons and return for their own. And they stay for their own. I am not even a vehicle.
To the one who wrote to me about having “attachment issues” and the fact that I do not answer queries, there are several reasons.
I get attached very easily…be it to a pen, a glass, a chair, a useless piece of paper, a smile, a tear…and I hate sounding like this, but the fact is that things are in flux. I have had to pay a heavy price for attachment, and being the way I am I cannot blame others.
There are times I may have formed attachments but was warned against doing so, and the next thing I know is that the person warning me is happily attached to that person…and I am not talking about ‘special’ situations. This is about friends. So when A warns me against B and strikes this wonderful friendship with B, then not only have I stayed away from B, but I have lost out on A too.
When I quote “yeh duniya yeh mehfil mere kaam ki nahin”, it is because I have experienced it at every turn of my life. I am not merely echoing thoughts…The “ordeal” I might be going through is only one among many.
I had met this wonderful lady once and she had given me a sweet lecture about how by staying away from things that matter to me, that matter to others as well, I was only granting victory to those who were waiting to see me experience a crisis (having created it). And I told her, “But why should I do something only to prove them wrong?”
She said, “Do it because you want to, for yourself. Don’t think about anyone else.”
It does not mean we lose touch. I cannot be insensitive, but I do not think by flaunting one’s concerns one becomes more sensitive. It riles me when I am told that “so-and-so cares so much about you” only because they let it all hang out…I cannot. Sometimes I will not. For I have found that many caring people are merely sorting out their own crises. I understand, but that is all I will do for now.
I know people suffer a lot; my problems are chicken-feed in comparison. But we are not here to count all this. There is no yardstick for these things; some of us can talk about it, some cannot. I try and work it out within me, sometimes I pen my thoughts to get it out of my system…I stay quiet when I want to, and speak when I want to.
Is this selfishness? I call these my flashes of truth.
I want to know, if someone wants you to upturn your life – where you live, what you do, what you are responsible for and those responsible for you – and refuses to reciprocate because they live somewhere, they do something, they have their reasons, then who is being selfish here? I am not thinking about ME, I am thinking about several strands that run parallel to me…if I am a part of people’s reality, then why do they forget my reality?
I guess my life will always be a fictional account…