Colour-blind Dreams

It hasn’t been good for the last few weeks…a student of my college committed suicide, midterms were postponed after we had studied for them, the Dean almost stepped down, and now all the country’s ministers have resigned because our prime minister broke several of his promises. Worst of all, one of my best friends’ mother just passed away.

I remember I posted here once, a lifetime ago, that I had this feeling that things wouldn’t get better, that they will just get worse. And they sure did, whether it’s the state of the country or the state of people’s lives.

Still, there is always hope. That’s all we can count on now, isn’t it? And the greatest hope and happiness we can count on is birth. On Sunday, my cousin had another adorable little baby girl. In between all the grief that’s been happening, there’s finally a lovely little bundle of joy to help us along in life.

It’s kind of lonely here on this blog…I feel like I’m talking to myself in a dark, empty room whenever I post. It’s my own fault, I suppose, for updating very irregularly, and when I do get around to it, I usually just talk about myself. Not anything that anyone’s really interested in.

But what else can I talk of? I finished my article, and the magazine coordinator really liked it. That’s the most important thing I can think of. I will take time out to take a look at T. S. Eliot sometime, though, because I’m thinking of getting my priorities straight, and of course, literature is right there on top.

But all in all, I think I keep updating because I want some sort of record of my life, especially at LUMS. Two years have gone by so fast, and I can’t imagine a time when I didn’t come here every day of the week, regardless of lectures, tutorials, assignments, or even friends.

If truth be told, it’s lonely here. I’ve made so many new friends, and made extremely good friends out of old acquaintances, but it’s still lonely. I mean, you’re on your own, you’re independent. Parents can only supply you with money; the rest you do yourself. Teachers can only supply you with lectures and office hours–you have to go out and make a well-rounded, decent intellectual of yourself. Societies and friends will give you feedback on your abilities–training is your own field.

Best of all, no one cares what you do; whether you join the music society AND the religious society; whether you make friends with a niqabi as well as someone who looks like a Goth. All people care about is…what you are, what you’re interested in, and whether you impress them or not.

Yup, I think I’ve found my niche.

The start of a new quarter…and I don’t want to talk about it. I’m supposed to get busy with an article for the Luminaire, but I don’t feel up to it.

I am still happy that I got into PLUMS (Publications at LUMS) which I think is the ost sensible society in lums, but I’m just a bit worried that my writing skills might not be very good in the article–writing sector. A few articles here and there in school and weekly magazines don’t really give one much experience for PLUMS, it seems. I like to keep information in a colorful form of expression and while the coordinator says that’s ok, I still need to get the point across more and be less ‘wordy’, as he calls it. And also I have to cut down on excessive criticism, which is funny, because I’m extremely careful about criticizing anyone at any time. The excessive criticism was in a quote that I used, but apparently, he doesn’t want direct quotes used either. Problem. I love to use direct quotes; I mean, what abut research papers then? Or the numerous articles in newspapers? But I guess that’s his own style. Anyways, I’m just chipping away at my article, trying to make a good piece of work out of it; and it’s coming along. I’m very grateful to the coordinator when all is said and done, because my work is much, much better now. I can feel it. Like he said…training issi taran hoti hai. 

But I am depressed…for a completely different and somewhat juvenile reason. Amanda Overmyer got voted out in American Idol! It’s just about the worst thing that could happen. I mean, she was one of the best performances that hyped-up, rigged and commercialized show ever had. And she had the perfect style that I want in female singers…it may come as a surprise to people who are close to me, but I am crazy about rock music. I loved the raw, strong tone of her voice, and the whole Southern rock makeup with the tongue sticking out, and the angry kicks in the air, shouting, the yelling, and those loud elucidations she used to do. Damn it, I don’t want a cute little pop or country singer! I want hardcore, mature, interesting people who are not afraid to belt out the good, upbeat tunes. I can’t believe I’ll never see that performer again, with her hair white-blond in front and black for the rest. She was amazing! She was what I fantasized about being if I ever had the guts or the ability to go on a show like that. She was just too goddam talented to have gone. And Bon Jovi had better not come on the show now that the rocker’s gone. None of the idiots left could ever go out for a Bon Jovi song like Amanda could. And now, I have sworn off watching American Idol seriously. You can’t take a show like that seriously. It’s stupid. America was stupid to vote her out, and to keep some seriously mediocre people in. I mean, she came in eleventh and I was expecting her to win! Bleargh..I’m going back to my article…it’s a good thing no one reads this blog anymore.

I have an open book, open notes exam in about two and a half hours…how does one study for that? My last exam was on Saturday evening, and my Sunday was spent in eating, drinking, and sleeping…don’t know what I was celebrating, but my subconscious told me that exams were now over.

But back to the idiotic exam that still keeps me from sleeping till my standard time of 1 or 2 pm. I have only had one open-book, open notes exam before, and that was almost a year ago, when I took Intro, to Philosophy. Now this subject here is History of colonial expansion…and I have no idea what to do other than sit and stare at that dratted textbook.

 HOW many times does one have to read about the Chinese dynasties getting overthrown, the Muslim and Maratha Empires getting overthrown, the Ottoman Empire getting overthrown, the Native American being killed by European diseases; the Europeans getting killed by African diseases???…it just depresses the heck out of me. LUMS is weird…liberal arts, my foot…there shouldn’t even be an exam for a subject like this.

I feel like Holden Caulfield, only I don’t have the freedom to break out and just get away.

Anyways, it’s not even all this historical stuff that’s going to come in the exam. It’s going to be modern liberalism, nationalism; Marxism…I recently found out that our instructor is probably a Marxist. As if being a political activist and a 40-time jailbird wasn’t enough, you have to attach a name to all of it.

To be honest, the main reason I took a history course was because of this instructor. I just wanted to see that charisma that organized student protests, that got him into jail so many times, and that self-assurance that made him refuse to go to court to be arrested when an FIR was lodged against him. And when I attended the first lecture, it was mind-blowing! The whole world just seemed to be going my way, my thoughts had taken a new and interesting direction…and of course, it didn’t hurt that he was young and good-looking into the bargain But let’s leave that for a freshie.

Now I am going to get something to eat, and try to read something form the book or the notes or the articles I found online…but how much can one read? And how much use can it be if everything’s going to be right in front of you???

Research papers zindabad…

The country has gone nuts, and I haven’t updated my blog. What can I do? The protests, the arrests of instructors and fellow students, the assassination, the whole bloody confusion of living in Pakistan…how can anyone convey what’s happening inside their heads?There are five main points that must be in a certain happening in order to call it an experience…immersion of self, continual harmony of the spiritual and the material, negation of the self, perception of reality…and the last and most important, inconveyability of the experience. I cannot draw a neat parallel here, because my thoughts are obviously not as high-flown as that of the Sufis and the Prophets (PBUT), but everything just seems to bind together in these five main points. But I can never convey my thoughts in a neat and logical manner whenever I’m feeling something with intensity. Don’t know whether this makes all the rubbish that’s being made of my country an experience for me, but maybe it’s extreme form of a downside experience, whereas what the Sufi tradition meant to convey by these five points were the spiritual experiences of the Prophets. Let’s leave politics then, if we can, because the more awareness I gain of the systems governing this world, the more depressed and stagnant I become. My fault, for taking subjects like I have. My mind is conflicted and afflicted and restricted and expanded all at once.  In one course I’m all into the Sufiist tradition and the Urdu poets—Ghalib, Iqbal and Faiz, no less—and I’m just about at an ecstatic pint in class. In another course, the harsh realities of the modern world, the way those white skins changed the map of the world and reduced, yes, reduced us and the rest of the world to what we are today; not to mention the idiotic excesses and greed that festered in our beloved old rulers. It’s like you can’t even do anything about it; East is East, West is West, even though the world is supposed to be a globe. Mass consumerism will continue to feed upon the natural resources at a parasitic and unnatural pace, and nothing will be done about it, because all the after-effects are for the third-world countries. And in order to leave the status of a third-world country, you have to give up all your values and beliefs and become…the others. Maybe this is why I can’t stop watching the seasons of ‘Lost’, because just now I begin to understand that the others want you to imbibe their beliefs and do what they want you to do…simple really, it’s just the system of the whole world, only they’re all isolated on what they think is a remote, uninhabited island. The series is expected to end in 2010, the same year I would hopefully graduate. Till then, I will continue watching it and try to make sense of what going on in that world and this one. 

Top five resolutions to follow at LUMS:1) Bring a pillow to Creative Writing. The only hard part of the chair is its side-table, so cushion that and go sweetly to sleep while the instructor sings the lecture to you. If someone insists on talking as if they were singing lullabies, then sleeping is the most apt thing to do, isn’t it?2) Never allow yourself to feel any tension about anything…not even if you’ve been randomly assigned a group with two guys who are senior, are strangers to you, and who consistently fall sick or have to go somewhere instead of going about the presentation….not even when you’ve been informed on Thursday that the presentation is due on Tuesday…not even when it’s all worth 20% of the grade. No tension…one of the guys is going to be the best of friends with the TA, and he will help you organize all your work the on Monday night. No sense wasting your weekend at all.3) Never, ever have iftari in LUMS. The food sucks…it’s actually better in the normal days, but in Ramzan the iftari is just….bleeerrghhhh….the mince biryani has been threatening to throw itself up since yesterday.4)DON’T ever, ever trust the instructor when he says that ‘the video would probably show some graphic details but its no worse than what you guys are seeing in cricket matches’…it would be worse, much worse. I may be speaking randomly because I myself, for my own sanity and my little sister’s innocence, change the channel whenever someone hits a six or a four. But a video cannot be changed…so before you get a headache and start being too conscious of the guys sitting on either side, in front of, and behind you, pick up your bag and jump out.

5) Don’t expect the freshies to get the hang of the LUMS campus for at least a quarter. I dunno what’s come over kids these days, but they’re still running around in the fourth week asking…jee, aap ko pata hai lab 2 kahan hogi? If you want to help them, push them in the right direction physically, don’t give them directions–they’ll get even more confused…I quote: ‘You mean we CAN use the elevator?’ I swear, I was never like this! I came and got acquainted with the campus when my sister was here before me; I never made a darn fool of myself. How cool am I? (Note: I misspelled ‘cool’ the first time I wrote it :P)

These were originally meant to be the top ten resolutions, but the mids have caught up with me and I really can’t be bothered to go through all the gross idiosyncrasies of college life in such a structured manner. Two exams tomorrow and I’m updating my blog…sheeeeshhh

I’m bored, and I shouldn’t be. Usually, college life is so interesting…hectic, weird, but never boring. Even with a droning instructor, there are numerous things people get up to in class. However, that is exactly the point here…I should have had three classes today, but two of them have been cancelled, and one is scheduled in the evening…main yahan jhak marnay aayi hoon?

And I want to be home for my little sister’s birthday…my cousins are still in Karachi, and the poor kid was bored stiff yesterday when both me and my other sister were in college all day. Turning twelve in the middle of the week…what the hell was she thinking of? Yes, I’m going all slow and crazy…can’t think of anything to blog about.

So I’m just typing away, worried abt my registration status, a half empty pack of Gluco biscuits lying forgotten between me and Farihah, trying to type fast so she doesn’t spot her name on the screen here…and I’m comepletely at a loss as to what to do! I’m tired of walking around, laughing at the irritating people on campus, having philosophical debates, and griping about unwanted courses and elusive ones….

Don’t get me wrong, whoever is reading this…I’m glad to be back, I want to study literary theory and abnormal psychology, even business management with the nerds here….but I need some variety in this life…and a little less stress wouldn’t hurt either.

I’ve known, I’ve seen, I’ve heard, I’ve felt:
I know how the day will end
And night begin, and how the stars
Peep out in turn, ‘fore clouds cover them.
How words follow words, and words, and words
Breath comes over breath, then passes on
But words never, never, never end;
Misplacing dreams and imaginings.

Wrinkles, so soft, and cracking bones,
Loosening tongues, the trembling grows;
Why O why O why must we go?
and without dying, lie in graves so cold…
Without sleeping must close our eyes,
Without laughing emit sounds wild, vile;
Without knowing, know it all
Without showing, without a sound.

It dabs at every corner; it seeks to dominate,
and meets no resistance, and indeed, no hate,
No looking back aids, though I remember once;
When doors were not open, I admired the woodwork
When buds seemed more lovely than roses full-blown;
When there was no human, just existence alone;
Lean back, head, or bow down and muse…

I’m a very tired girl these days…but today’s the last official day as a freshie, a sure sign that the tiredness is soon going to end. Never again would the sophomores, juniors and seniors, and graduates call out ‘HEY FWESHIEEE!!’ in that contemptuous but amused manner. In September, we would be the ones who laugh at the poor confused freshmen as they try to make head or tail of just the academic block, which is in a hexagon shape, and where all doors and walls and pillars and auditoriums look exactly the same.

I remember I had a map that they handed out in the orientation, but even that didn’t help me, because I first had to figure out where the main entrance was in order to make some sense of it…but the main entrance looked just like the other three entrances…soo..??? Kya karti?

Oh, I got lost so many times in these first two weeks—even though the LUMS campus is not a patch on the

Punjab
University campus, and certainly nothing compared to universities abroad…but still, I was used to a renovated old house and its gardens as a school for twelve years.

Well, it’s not as if I’m getting out of here, but the freshie year was a real test of one’s metal, and I can just say I’m glad I’m out of it. I’m sure I’m ready for the army now…because now I know that while there is a minimal amount of ragging at the beginning of the year, there are numerous funny things that our beloved old seniors get up to. One is the Daku Day, when they all dress up in black, draw huge black moles on their faces (girls and boys alike), and take dandas, or toy guns and go about harassing students, instructors and librarians, robbing them of money, cell phone, ID cards (college and national). Of course, everything but the money is returned to the owners (for a small fee). Losers…

After that, it’s a lot of fun at the end of the spring quarter. There’s the Bhekari Day…the oh-so-mature seniors go around wearing ragged clothes and carrying placards which say ‘Meray chotay chotay man baap hain’…there was also this guy who went about screaming with the sign ‘Main bol nahin sakta’. What weirdoes…they had us all in stitches for a whole week with days like these…except for Daku Day, of course. Let’s see…Paindoo Day, “yo” Day…it was a real pity that ‘cross-dress Day’ got cancelled…no wait, on the other hand, I think that was a relief.

Twenty-five, beautiful, intelligent…she had always been everything that a girl like me would want to be. I followed her upstairs to help with her packing—she was going back the next day. Before going back down, she went into the bedroom where nobody had slept since that day…I followed, thinking she might need some help. But she opened the closet, and buried her face in her late father’s clothes. Inhaling, she broke into silent sobs…I turned and ran.

I found an old school register in my clothes closet yesterday…the last pages were full to bursting with at least twenty different poems…when did all that stop? There was a time when the instinct used to be plentiful and spontaneous…

A sort of old, obscure song drifts past…

‘I never felt so lonely, never felt so out of placeI never wanted something more than this’

Two thoughts at the same time…one was to dwell in the words (always loved these lines, don’t know why)…and the others to classify them as half or near rhymes…what’s happening to me?

The TA came down from the back of the room to recite “Dile Nadaan Tujhay Hua Kya Hai”— that rapturous verse from Ghalib. He didn’t recite very well, but it seemed like he felt everything; his face convulsed with pleasure as he got to the most powerful line. It was a moment where so much could be seen…that childish face twisted with the pain of the lines at his finger…such a childish face under that mass of premature gray hair…

Finally, I turned around and told my TA that his articles rocked, that he was a brilliant writer and should go to many heights, and that I’ve been a constant reader for many months…turned out he loved the idea of a fan following. I came out of the TA room with his whole present personal life at my fingertips… he left two jobs in Karachi to get the double TA-ship that was being offered to him here. Oh yeah, and he’s going to be jobless after this quarter.

I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep…twenty centuries of stony sleep has rocked my cradle too; and there are no alarms to wake me up…but insomnia has taken over.

I have no idea how to end these things…