What is Swaish?

Swaish is the answer when you don’t know the question. Swaish is the agreement when there is a fight. Swaish is the word when there is no word. Swaish is the conclusion to all arguments. Swaish is a religion when you have lost all faith. Swaish is the light when there is night. Swaish is I love you when you are feeling shy. Swaish is the beauty we cant find. Swaish is the food which warms our bellies. Swaish is a thank you when you don’t want to thank openly. Swaish is culture, swaish is a code, swaish is everything which is otherwise missing. Swaish is the tradition which separates men from beasts. Swaish is the honor which is difficult to keep. Swaish is the bird when there aren’t two in the bush.

When there is nothing there is swaish, when there is swaish there is everything.

I bid you all swaish!

Bitches and Assholes

Some time back I saw a book titled “Why men marry bitches?” It was just a passing glance, didn’t really get to read anything about the book. However, the first reaction it had in my head was, “We marry bitches? I don’t think I would.” Before reaching this judgment though we need to decide the criteria for labeling someone a bitch. Is she the woman who would bite you in the ass first chance she gets, the one who would poison you with venom on her lips just because she thinks that is a good way to betray you and who still comes out alive to watch you die? If that’s the bitch we are talking about, she doesn’t need to get married. Unless of course you are a power house.

Then there is the bitch because she puts out, is easy, is the bimbo with fake breasts and all she really knows is to moan in bed. A bitch, yes. But would you marry her? I mean okay a backseat fuck, totally understandable but that is where in ends no? Well, at least that is where it should end. Definitely not one you would take to the altar.

Which brings us to the third type, now this ones a bitch because she can do things we can not. She is powerful on her own, she’s in control, she’s is assertive, she actually has more wits than you, hell she is even dominant. She is a bitch because you are fucking scared of her. “This woman might be sitting on my seat of I don’t do something about it.” So you have to call her a bitch, not because its her fault but because she is so good at whatever she does you can not accept it at all. Let’s just call it a self defense mechanism, a very bad one but nothing else to blame this one on. Men in general are scared of powerful women, because hell we lose control and losing that makes us think we have lost everything. Maybe that is why most men prefer stick shift over automatic transmission; control.

Now coming back to the question which started this all, “Why men marry bitches?” As far as I see it, irrespective of the category of bitch that book is talking about, we do not marry bitches. One is out to get us, the second is a slut, the third hell she scares us.

So yeah, another question now. And this ones from us men, “Why do women like assholes?” Just like there was a reaction of, “we don’t” in my head when I read the marriage question I am sure a lot of women would have the same response right now. But hey, fact’s a fact, every prick, douche bag, jerk off, dick wad etcetera etcetera would have a hell of a woman (or in some cases, a handful) all over him. No I don’t have reasons for my observations. I am not going to write a book about it but had to be asked.

Here is a perspective though, maybe when the book talks of bitches and I talk of assholes the label is not being put on by the opposite sex. Maybe, women who see other women with lets say a catch, in jealousy end up labeling that woman a bitch. “Can’t take away what she’s got, lets slander her.” In which case the categories of bitches I just listed up there stand void, because that is a man’s perspective, not a woman’s. Similarly, when us men see a bloke with a hot one we call him an asshole because he’s got what we haven’t. Way to burn my earlier observation, but just because I am presenting this argument, doesn’t mean I agree with it.

I leave it to you folks to add perspective to this one.

Carpe Diem on Ex Nihilo

Got a story published at Ex Nihilo, which is a monthly online publication with the purpose of creating a platform for sharing and interaction on art work by young people. Anyway, linking it here.

Carpe Diem

She is Gone

I write and I write for a sanity divine
I write and I write for you, insane swine
I wish and I wish for an ounce of pride
I wish and I wish, Oh! Please be my bride

I was to be right, but god made me wrong
I was to be a knight, not slave to the grind
Twenty fucking five years and vengeance I reap
My whole fucking life and now I grieve

Granddads

My Dada (Paternal Grandfather) died of cancer last year, it took just months from the diagnoses to the day he passed away. I would say I was fortunate for I did not see him shrivel away. Even with cancer he was walking till the last day of his life. Maybe a fast growing cancer was a good thing. It didn’t put him in pain (or a lot of it), it didnt torture him.

I remember from when I was a kid that we watched the entire Ghalib movie (or series) together. I always wanted to get the series on DVD and watch it with him as an adult. Unfortunately, I was never able to do that. They say you don’t realize what you have till you lose it and when you lose someone that elderly you suddenly realize the mammoth of knowledge they had. Me and my Dada used to have discussion on politics, I was the only person in the entire household (my chachos, dad and rest of cousins included) who could actually high five him, an advantage of being the eldest grandson I suppose. I vividly remember the day I “fived” him for the first time, my mum and chachoos (uncles) were visibly shocked but somehow I knew I didn’t cross any boundaries. After my Dada passed away, there was quite a few times I read the newspaper headlines and thought to myself, “Will discuss it with Dada Abu when I go to his place next” only to realize that he was no more.

Ironically, I have always felt his absence in subtle ways like that. The day he passed away I was at the hospital and when I learned that he has passed away, I felt nothing. Nothing at all, maybe I was prepared since I knew he was suffering from a very bad case of cancer. That does not however explain how I felt nothing a couple of years before that when my Nana Abu (Maternal Grandfather) passed away.

Again as was the case with Dada Abu I realized his absence and his death gradually over time. Like in winters when we used to go to his place and he would come out to receive us or see us off with a shawl wrapped around him. Or the number of dictionaries there used to be on his bedside and lounge’s table; he used to solve the crossword, the jumble and a couple of other word games from each days newspaper – an attribute my sister took up later. Oh and his walking stick and this particular way he used to swing it when he walked, always seemed very sophisticated to me. As a kid I tried to swing a stick just like Nana Abu did but I could never get it right. Since I lost my Nana Abu earlier than my Dada Abu there are things I never did with him. I never realized how much he knew about current affairs and never got to hear him talk of a political situation in the calm, controlled manner that he used to speak in. I never got to learn of each and every road of Karachi through him; yes, he was excellent with directions and somehow knew where everything of even the slightest of importance was. One thing I know I pick from my Nana Abu, being a techy. Nana Abu would know everything about tuning the latest TV set and what additional features it offered, how the internet works and how to send emails all over the world. He knew before me what an ISP is, yes thanks to his love for reading he would read all the IT magazines that my Mammo (uncle) used to have lying about the house.

Among everything, something I always feel that I missed out was the fact I never learned enough from their experiences. It is after you lose someone so important that you realize that you had never even begun to estimate their importance, their knowledge and their love. I have never said it before today, but I miss them and I wish I had spent more time with them.

Rest in peace, Granddads.

 

P.S. This post is inspired by Hold my hand… by Rabia and basically started off as a reply to that post.

 

Waiting…

Her hand reached out, trying to touch him one last time before she left forever. Her fingers were slightly curled so as to hold his hand but they were very frail. Her weakness evident from the shaking fingers. Still she reached out with her last remaining strength trying to hold him, touch him. 

But it was too late, time had run out. Life slipped from her like sand runs through the fingers of an open hand. Her hand still reached out as life left her body. He never came, he never saw her die, he never saw how all she wanted was him as she departed. Her hand slumped to the bed – bouncing lightly on the mattress – waiting for him to come forward, waiting for him to take it.

Guilty Gratification

Hands behind my back as a tight knot numb my fingers. The clouds clear and I start to comprehend my surroundings; moon light filtering through the vent, my knees down on the cold damp floor, water dripping in the background, feet and hands bound by nylon. I try to grasp the situation as my head throbs painfully from the blow it had received earlier. 

What am I doing here? How I got here? These questions meaning nothing since she is here with me. I can hear her heals click; her limp a dead giveaway. The same irregular click which told me it was her who hit me on the head. 

The pain lessens and my eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. Oh god! Does she look beautiful tonight; a black low cut dress, her perfect skin glowing in the moon light. I notice a shiny object in her hand. My eyes widen in fear; is that a gun! 

She walks over to me and puts the gun to my head. I don’t know if it’s the fear or the touch of cold metal against my hot, sweating body but I feel shiver climb up my spine. Is this my darkest night mare or my deepest fantasy? I look up, my eyes meet hers.
“Pain for pleasure”, I ask
She nods her head in negative, “Guilt for gratification.”
My head slumps down, it’s the darkest nightmare. 

It’s eerie how it feels knowing that you are about die. I can scream, I can beg but that would be the end of the little dignity I have left. It’s sad – the hope – that maybe she won’t pull the trigger.

Accept your fate, you are about to die!

Its weird – the realization – that last thing you are going to hear on god’s green earth is the bang of the gun as the trigger strikes the bullet; bullet with your name on it.

My last remaining consolation; at last she will take something from me. 

BANG!

The Dynamics of Relationships

I read this post on a guys view on love and relationship and I disagreed with it enough to actually write a post on it myself. This post might seem like a reply to the other one so you might want to read his point of view as well.

Love to me is not something I have actually looked for. I have always felt enough affection from my family and I don’t think I have ever looked to my friends or my girlfriend (when I had one) as an alternate source for love. All three of them fall into different categories and are as important as the next. Its not that lack of one could be fulfilled with excess of the other.

When you are in a relationship with somebody it is true that over a period of time you end up being dependent on them or rely on them for different things which are a part of your personal life but that is not all there is to it. Relationship on the whole brings a lot of emotional and intellectual change to your life. I for one believe that if you feel connected to someone being with them brings a positive change to your life. You end up doing things you normally might not have. Then again that is just me but a relationship for me is something where I get to exploit my potential more than usual. It works as what you can call a motivation factor for me.

When you start out with a fresh relationship you don’t actually think about the practicality of the entire thing in totality. You are in a state of euphoria where everything seems perfect to you but as time goes on things get more real and cracks begin to appear. Either of two things can happen here, you let time fizzle things out or you try and fix them. I won’t go into the details of how either of this could and would work out but I will end it all by saying that if you feel that there is a chance to make an existing relationship work, no matter how minute it might be, you should work your differences through cause its not everyday you find people you can mentally and emotionally connect to.