I stopped counting the days. One fell into the other like postcards in letter boxes…postcards with inadequate stamps and hazy addresses and names.

Forget intellectually stimulating activity, I went blank. We all know things happen, but when they do, punch you in the face, knock you down, you are left reeling for only a brief while. Then you realise that nothing hurts. Nothing. Pain is another word you swab the floor with so that you can lie down.

One needs to lie down. I have been doing that. Tried different positions, only to be jolted out and up on my feet. Feet as heavy as lead, tied with chains to a ground not my own.

If it had been about me, I might have spoken more; this is all very cryptic because it isn’t about me. One day when my thoughts stay the course and unfreeze, I will be able to write about it.

I have been learning about life from another life.

I have never felt this helpless before or this strong. How can the two co-exist? I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things I thought I knew.

For two weeks I haven’t written. I tried one day…but as I said that day toppled over and took with it whatever it had.

For two weeks I haven't cried. This is the time for me to cry, but the tears are playing truant. I wanted to poke my fingers in my eyes; I wanted to chop onions; I wanted to use glycerine; I wanted to draw blood; I wanted to touch inside my heart and slap my arteries and tug at my veins; I wanted to…but I have been turned into a robot. Every movement is now designed for action, specific action. I go wrong and things can fall. These are times of a house of cards. I wonder if people gamble with this.

Today, late afternoon, as I sipped my masala tea, I found words crawling like insects in my brain. First came the poems, little verses, disjointed…then other sentences formed…

I am here now with chipped nails and a thumb that has a deep cut caused while stripping the strip of medicine. I smile now and think: was it an anti-coagulant doing its job with too much fervour?

One thing is certain. What has congealed is not just blood.


  1. You are strong because you can see your helplesness.Your thoughts take such beutiful shape that you are missed.Maybe writing is catharsis so keep writing

  2. Farzana, sometimes the synchronicity of things that happen to different people is absolutely amazing. In the exact period that you are talking about, I was affected by an illness of unknown etiology.

    Yesteraday, it began to subside rapidly and dramatically. Even as I write now, I am feeling much, much better.

    Sometimes, coincidenes are absolutely amazing.

  3. This may not be much comfort, but at least you are near the people who matter to you....chin up.

  4. KB:

    Such writing is indeed cathartic...and you perceptively observe one needs strength to recognise helplessness.


    This was not about me, but yet the world is connected...hope you are better than the better of yesterday.


    Thank you for the comfort; now send me some gooey liquer-filled chocolate, then while I empty the contents will it be "chin up"...

  5. The e-chocolate collection is paaathetic...sorry :]

  6. I asked for the real thing. Never mind. I shall do an up-down nodding of head instead of traditional Indian side-side one for the chin-chin, k?

  7. Ok, where would I send the lick'er chocs? The chin-chin makes you sound more chin-ese than Indian.

    Here,btw,is a great song. Ignore the video. Cheers.


  8. Thanks for the song...about the chocs, do you have authentic Pak liqueur chocs? Then I shall come and collect them personally...

    Hindi-Chini bhai-bhai, no? So...just a nod to that...

  9. 1. I said lick'er chocs.

    2. Would you settle for just the local liqueur?