Between Mothers, Angels, and sluts.

HERE

Keeping someone else’s secret terrifies me more than my own. My relationship with KS remains embedded to where it began, while I watch everything around me and ‘us’ grow diversely. I’m uncertain as to whether I am gradually turning into my Mother or if everything around me is really as blunt as my feelings render. Most of the conversations that I have with my Mother turn into a debate. Last summer the first thing she said to me when she met me at the arrival terminal of the airport put me off and within the first 5 minutes of landing on home ground; I wanted to fly back in the same aircraft screaming. She made a senseless remark about my smoky eye makeup.

Thousands of conversations have taken place over the years and I can barely remember one where I thought her opinions were unbiased on popular demand. And after every ‘debate’ I’ve warned my older self to never turn into a cynic. Last night I got a first peek into my impending (horrifying) transformation when I convinced myself and Mimi that her ex-boyfriend will be sorry for going after a ‘slut’ who looked and sounded so much like an angel to him. Only that night, her antics were not too celestial. 

I’m a Tad too late but dropping in New Year wishes and also a Massive Thank You to everyone here for reading my blog and leaving lots of Love each time. It means so very much to me.

Thank You.

♡

When Dreams meet Reality.

I don’t remember his features but he was a fine-looking boy, someone who looked like he came right out of a movie, and would be incredibly out of my league. Imagine my surprise when he came with his brother, who was striking in his own way, and his father to talk to my Father.

I had nothing to say except I kept thinking about KS. I couldn’t wait to get out of the beautiful trap and tell him how this incredibly fine boy wanted me and how my parents were rooting for it. Silence made up for all the things that needed to be said. Then he walked into my dark room and in gradual speed extracted all the truth out of me. He decided to walk away at the unraveling of a ‘startling’ fact that I have someone else in mind. I begged him not to tell my Father and I don’t think he conformed. I’m not sure, but I remember being terrified at the thought of confronting my parents.

I woke up realizing how I had been lying to myself all these time telling myself that my biggest fear was mediocrity when there’s always been something else under the rug.

I'm sorry you're you. Happy Holidays.

HERE

HERE

Till today I had been carrying a certain guilt with me because I believed in Odem when she told me I was ‘muck’, last summer on the last night at home. The misunderstanding that led to such an allegation was trivial and I was partly to blame, and even though I apologized the next day before getting on the plane, I knew she would never accept it.

I came back to the city and somehow life pushed that night a little less out of focus. It was subdued, yet very much present. Today KS called me and said something that put me at ease. He said that his cousin was an unrefined young lady who had little or no etiquette to talk to elders or anybody. He elaborated on the few things she said to his mother that was much out of line.

As he did so, I could hear her say I was muck that last summer in that callous tone. I knew what he meant because I was there too, in a similar situation with her. I never had the courage to tell him the things his cousin had told me that night because I was afraid of things I can’t explain. Today had nothing to do with me but I learnt something, being shadowed in flamboyant sanctity doesn’t make up for deficient decorum.

Once upon a time.

Here

Fragments of my fears resulted from all the summer evenings on the front yard of my Mother’s sister’s house 4 hours away from my town.

I’d sit down with my Mother, her sister (my aunt) and her daughter beside the Hibiscus shrubberies and listen to repetitive counsels on the importance of a ‘good’ life partner.

When I was young, my Mother would tell me bedtime stories – Gulliver’s Travels, Little Red Riding Hood, Buddha etc. She would sing lullabies too on many occasions.

Eventually the stories stopped as I grew and they were replaced by ‘vital’ advices every now and then.

It was on a winter night when I sat on the floor facing her on the bed that she told me a story just like the Little Red Riding hood except here, I wore the Red Cape.

She elaborated on the big bad wolf and how I should turn around and run if I ever encountered one.

My Fear then substantiated because I was already in Love with the big bad wolf, and he was beautiful.