Drowning

It's like something that's fragile, but stronger than anything else in the world. It's like a feather that the wind can blow away, but a feather that is heavier than mountains.

I'm turning 22 in a day. I expected to have graduated by now. I expected to be back in Pakistan. It's funny how life blows all your expectations out of the water, how everything changes so suddenly, how every single plan is completely destroyed. I've given up on having any plans for the future anymore. It's back to taking life one day at a time.

It's a really weird feeling to give up. I've always had this voice in my head that kept me going, that always said that God knows best and to keep trying, to keep throwing myself at everything until it was done. I can't hear that voice anymore. The faith in God is still there, thankfully. But without that voice, it's as if I've given up caring. Like nothing matters anymore.

The last time I gave up caring about anything, I stood a knife's edge away from death. It's a different sensation this time; like I'm free of any obligations, but I can focus more on the stuff that really matters. It's like being out of a cage that I've been trapped inside.

I don't care anymore. Why should I?

The shadows lengthen as he walks down the sidewalk,

It's past midnight, and there's almost no one around.

He walks calmly and slowly,

as if there isn't anything to worry about.

A car races down the street,

but he doesn't pay any attention to it.

A squirrel notices him going past

but he doesn't even look at it.

He seems lost in thought,

It's almost as if he's sleepwalking.

The red lights start to blink,
The barrier comes down on either side.

A light approaches from far away,
It's moving towards him like the wind.

He doesn't feel anything anymore,
As the train knocks him out of its way.

Don't leave me (Part 3)

The sun is setting, and we're walking together near the fountains. The air smells so fresh and pure, almost as if there's a vibrant feel to the cold December weather. There's a lot of other people here, and they're all enjoying the view, taking pictures, and some children are even running around. I look at you, and I feel proud to have you by my side. It's a wonderful feeling to have someone who will never let go of you.

I close my eyes for a second, and when I open them, I'm standing in a huge open field. I'm not dressed up anymore; I'm wearing a t-shirt and a pair of slacks. It's the middle of the day, and I don't understand what I'm doing here. Suddenly, I feel myself flying through the air and landing hard on the ground. When I land, it's as if my hearing comes back; there's crowds of people sitting in the amphitheater, watching, cheering, and yelling. I look around, and I can see a huge figure advancing towards me; it's seven feet tall and dressed all in black, with a hood over its head. I don't know what's going on, and I don't understand it, until I see the sword in its hand. My hands are empty; there's just sand around me. Something glitters against the sunlight as its thrown towards me, and I realize that it's a spear. I catch it, and face the monster, but it laughs, and the sound makes me cower. Suddenly, it pauses, and then I realize why; you're coming up near me with a shield, and it was you who threw me the spear. There's a second figure laying in the ground behind you, but it seems motionless. The figure in front of me charges at me, but you jump in front, and in that instant, I know that everything will be fine. My vision blurs and I can feel myself falling, but I'm not worried. You're here with me.

I wake up slowly. When I say slowly, I mean really slowly. I don't understand what's going on, but it doesn't feel like a dream anymore. I look around, and I can see you now. You notice my being awake, and the smile that spreads across your face takes away my confusion and my worry. Everything will be fine. That lets me relax, and I fall asleep. When I wake up, it's the middle of the night, and our parents are here, too. My parents still look worried, and I want to ask them why-you're here, and that should make them relax. There's a doctor here, too, and even she seems calm. I realize that I can slowly move, and it seems like I can feel everything. I'm still disoriented, so it takes a bit to find my voice and respond to my parents. It's then that I find out where I am, and how I got here.

It takes a few days, but they finally release me from the hospital. Everyone is here to see me leave the place; it was as if I'm having a going away party or something. And now you're making the joke about how everyone in Desi families comes to pick someone up from the airport or when a person gets sick or something. The fresh breeze outside is so full of like, especially for a December wind. I know December is your favorite month, but it gets too cold sometimes. Oh, and I know my parents worry about me now that I can get back to work soon, but I'm not worried about anything else. Having you means that no matter what, everything will be fine. We'll find a way through everything, and we'll always do it together.

This is from her perspective. Read it again and see if you understand it.

Don't leave me (Part 2)

Guilt kicks in and I start to see,
The edge of the bed, where your nightgown used to be.

It's been three days, and you're still in a coma. Your surgery went well, considering the two fractured ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, bleeding ears, and brain trauma. The surgeons had to call in more doctors because the surgeries took so long. It freaked us all out when they did that. They said you're weak, that your body took a lot of damage, and they don't know what will happen now. I didn't move away from your bedside, and I still can't look away from you when I sit here. I'm waiting for you to wake up or move a tiny bit. It feels weird to not hear your voice, and I don't want to listen to the voice mails you left me. That's the kind of thing a person does once someone dies, and you're not dead. You're not leaving me here, not like this. You know how much I need you, but you don't even see me.

When I fell asleep after the first day, I was hoping I'd wake up to see you looking at me. But that hasn't happened yet. I just have to keep waiting and praying. Our friends texted us, hoping you get better soon, and I couldn't help but go through pictures we take all the time. I need you to wake up soon, so I can take another picture of you. Knowing you, you'll want to delete the picture at first, but you'll come around to keeping it. Relatives kept stopping by, giving flowers and trying to comfort your parents, but their eyes have a haunted look, one that even I haven't been able to do anything about. If you were awake, you'd probably have an amazing idea about what I could do for them.

I went home yesterday to get some fresh air and check on our puppies myself. My brothers have been keeping an eye on them, but you know what dogs are like; they'll get sad if one of us isn't around. It took a while before they calmed down enough to let me do anything around the house. I kept looking at my phone, hoping it would ring, hoping it would be either of our parents, letting me know that you had woken up. I took a nap after cleaning our place, and I dreamt of you. It was just the two of us, on vacation, and we had gone back to your house in India. It was really hot and humid in the dream, and we kept buying water everywhere we went, but I was with you, and it felt so real that I didn't want to wake up.

I decided to stop by the dealership on my way to the hospital today. Your car was totaled, but insurance is taking care of your new car. I keep talking about other stuff because I really need you to wake up. I'm trying to stay busy and do something or another, so I don't think about life without you, because being without you is something I can't deal with. We promised each other that we would always face life together, no matter what, and I need you to hold your end of the bargain. I know you won't leave me here, not like this, not without saying goodbye first. I have faith in you.

Don't leave me (Part 1)

I smiled as I walked into the building where my office was. Today was a good day; it was raining, I had gotten paid last night, and I had found out this morning that my body fat percent had fallen by another percent. I took the stairs to my floor-sixth floor, not that much exercise-and was pleased once again at the fact that I wasn't out of breath at the top. I checked the mailbox outside my door; a letter from my department manager congratulating me on my performance last month, and a letter from the engineering department, reminding me that convocation was in two days. Today was indeed a wonderful day, and I said a prayer thanking God for all His blessings.

I had just taken my coat off when I felt my phone vibrate; I looked at it, and it showed three voice mails from her. I wasn't that surprised; my office was one of the few places in the building that got reception, so I must have missed her calls while I was coming to the office. I opened the first voice mail, and my blood ran cold when I heard it. I was on the phone with her instantly, and ran out as after telling my supervisor that I had an emergency. She was scared, she was crying, she didn't know what to do. I kept talking to her, and while running down the stairs, I dialed 911 from my other phone.
"Hi, my fiance has had an accident, she's at Greenville and Richmond, black Pontiac Solstice, she's been hit badly."

My building was two minutes away, so I pulled up behind her car just as the ambulances and police cruisers did. I remember seeing the EMT's run to her before I could, and saying that she was unconscious; them putting her on a stretcher and rushing her to the ambulance, and an officer calling for a shroud for the other car's driver. The other car had run a red light, hit her, and flipped over. I remember an EMT guiding me to the back of the ambulance, then staring at her while she fought to breathe, and getting out at the hospital and staring at the doctors waiting for us. It was only then that I called her parents and then mine, letting them know what had happened.

I'm sitting in the ER waiting room right now. The waiting room feels cold, like it's an uninviting, forbidding place, but then, no one wants to ever be here. I've been sitting here for the last four hours, praying and just waiting. I just want to hear her voice again, hear her laugh, see her smile at me, I just want to know she's okay. Both our families are here, stressed out beyond belief. No one is talking, because we're all praying, quietly, having faith that God will grant us our wish.

Far Away

I don't know how people do it. Even staying busy doesn't help anymore.
Above everything else, above my hopes, dreams, daily routines, there's always this thought at the back of my mind-and it's about going back home.
The feeling is in the fresh breeze, it's in everything I wear-most of my clothes are either made in Pakistan or bought while I was there, it's in most of my music, it's in the snapchats my friends back home send me, and it's even in the pictures my out of state friends post when they're going back home.

Nothing works, not even with the constant reminders that I'll go home one day. Even the struggle to remind myself to be patient doesn't help. For the fifth time today, I looked up a flight home, indulging my fantasy that I'll be booking it sometime soon. I've done this before, I stayed here for a year before going back. I did it again after a year at Rutgers and kept going. It's been two years, two months, and twenty four days since I saw home. I know that number because it's the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I can't even fall asleep properly now; I have to totally exhaust myself or study a lot before I can fall asleep.
In trying to distract myself, I've been working on this short story bit by bit, and here it is. This is a work of fiction and has no relevance whatsoever to any person, alive or dead.


He walks into the bookstore quietly; he's looking for a particular book, and he doesn't notice people around him. There aren't a lot of other shoppers today; it's a Sunday, and sundown is in about half an hour. He walks down the aisle, and he finds what he's been looking for. He smiles and savors the moment; he's waited two year after the second book came out, and the third was finally in front of him. He picks it up, resisting the urge to open it and start reading-that would have to wait until he got back home. He turns, and almost bumps into someone who was texting on her phone and didn't see him until the last second.

She looks up at him; he's still just as tall as he ever was-thinner and grimmer, now-but she still has to look up at him. She stops in shock; she hadn't realized he was in town, and for him to be in this bookstore, at this time, so calmly, meant that he was back for good. It's been years since she last saw him, and when he left, she hadn't even acted like she cared-it was much easier that way. She doesn't know what to do, and the realization roots her to the floor.

He smiles, nods at her, and moves around her. He doesn't say anything; he doesn't want to hear her voice, because he knows that he won't be able to stop thinking about her if he does. The voices inside his head are going crazy, one side terrified that he'd see her again, and the other, angrier side, reminding him that no one gets a third chance. He hurries to checks out and leaves the bookstore, but the cool wind stops him in his tracks, because it's the same breeze he's waited years to feel, the same feeling of being back in his favorite city. It was a moment to savor, to feel happy and proud about everything he had accomplished and the long roads that had let him back here, but he wanted to be far away from her first.

She watches him leave in a hurry, and knows that it was because of her. She frowns; even now, she was able to make him avoid her. She doesn't know what to do, and it makes her angry, and her anger grows when she realizes that her day just went from good to bad-and he caused it, just like he always did. She stalks out of the store, and sees him all the way across, almost out of the door. That's when she smells the fresh breeze and it makes her stop, too.

He's just gotten into his car when he gets the urgent texts on his phone-Code Orange, mass casualties expected, all doctors to emergency wings. He doesn't hesitate, training taking over, and races to the nearest emergency center. He can see the ambulances tearing out of the parking garage as he gets closer. When he arrives, the television is airing the disaster, but he doesn't pause-he's used to emergencies and he knows how to stay calm. Some of the nurses have stopped to stare at the news, but he gets everyone's attention and makes them focus, the same calm way that he always has. He's the most senior doctor, and he reassures the staff. The calmer, firm expressions tell him he's done it right, one more time.

She works with the other doctors, making sure her nurses have everything ready. She's still trying to steady her nerves; she hadn't known that he was a doctor now, and for him to be in this wing, at this time.. she shakes her head, trying to clear her mind. He had totally thrown her off, and the way that he had calmly taken control reminded her of the last two times he had done it, even though it was a long time ago. A waving hand gets her attention; it was him, making sure each doctor was ready, and she can see the focus and-was that doubt in his eyes? It definitely wasn't trust, but she doesn't need him for any of this. She can do this.

He can hear the sirens getting louder, and it takes all of his control to not run outside. The staff needs to see him walking slowly, so they are as calm as possible. The first stretchers are rushed inside, and the ambulances rush off, back to the scene. Soon, there's a steady influx of stretchers and every doctor working quickly with the nurses, some inside the operating rooms, some on the side of the hallway, other doctors rushing in to help and getting straight to work. A nurse runs outside suddenly and pukes, and she calls for an extra nurse. There aren't any available, so he rushes to take the nurse's place. He nods at her. It's a race against time, but they're all working together.

Dare I hope?

Each path that I can take is as treacherous as the next, and no path has a guarantee of success.
It's like jumping into a void without knowing what's at the bottom.

The way down is still going to be exciting, though.
Let's see how this goes.

Sometimes, Goodbye is a Second Chance

It feels weird.
My favorite season is just around the corner, and this is usually the best time of the year.
I've always loved winter, that feeling of cool air, of complete freshness; it's almost as if you can start a new life with every new day.

Everyone needs compassion,
Love that's never failing,
Let mercy fall on me.
(Hillsong: Mighty To Save)

Winter holds some of the best-and some of the worst-memories.
It's like a whole new different with how refreshing everything is.

But instead, my migraines are getting worse.
The last time they got this bad was two years ago, which is why it's so strange.
I've gotten used to having a migraine all the time, but this is different.

On top of that, I'm too busy. I don't get a chance to sit down and relax properly anymore; but I knew that was going to happen when I took so many classes and worked so much-the whole point was to not have time to sit and reflect about life and everything.
Even with all that, I still get a chance to think; while I'm driving, or studying the same type of homework problems again and again.

The whole problem with having time to think is wondering what my plan is anymore.
It's always been the same; graduate, pay off my loans, and move back.
But I don't know if that's what I really want to do.
I've finally stayed in one place long enough to make good friends again, long enough to even start building my mini-library.
I used to have my own library, so having enough books to fill over four shelves is a major accomplishment.

I don't know anymore.
I'm not worrying about it or stressing or anything.
It's a really, really weird feeling to not have a plan for the future that's set in stone.

Maybe I'll travel a bit first; I've always wanted to go to Europe, Egypt, China, Turkey, Iran.

Heaven forbid you end up alone and don't know why,
Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright.
(The Fray: Heaven Forbid)

Lost

Did you lose what won't return?
Did you love but never learn?

He looks around, stunned by what he had just heard.
It had never been a possibility, the thought had never occurred to him.

The fire's out but still it burns,
And no one cares, there's no one there.

His legs give way, and he falls to the ground suddenly.
Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Did you find it hard to breathe?
Did you cry so much that you could barely see?

He had just finished getting the surprise ready.
The perfectly set table looked empty now.

You're in the darkness all alone,
And no one cares, there's no one there.

He can see her picture on the table;
The flickering candlelight gives it a haunted look.

But did you see the flares in the sky?
Were you blinded by the light?

He's shocked beyond belief,
The last thing he remembered was the picture of her.

Did you feel the smoke in your eyes?
Did you? Did you?

He wakes up at dawn,
It takes a few minutes for it to sink in.

Did you see the sparks filled with hope? You are not alone,
Cause someone's out there, sending out flares.

He slowly gets up and looks around,
The candle had burnt itself out.

Did you break but never mend?
Did it hurt so much you thought it was the end?

Light rays of sunlight brighten the day outside,
The curtains are drawn, there's darkness inside.

Lose your heart, but don't know when
And no one cares, there's no one there.

Flares-The Script (the stuff in italics)
I came up with the rest.

Hope.

I had a dream last night.
You weren't in it.
It was a different face.
A new face, a face I didn't recognize.

I'm being patient.
God lets everything happen for the best.
But the new face?
It represents hope, and a new world of possibilities.

It's nice, to be able to smile, while hoping for the best.
It's amazing, to be able to sing along with my old favorite songs, and not see your face everywhere.
But, there is no true despair, without hope.
Even so, I'm not afraid. Life brings its challenges, and the only way to beat them is to meet them head-on.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.-Lao Tzu.

The flag, of the crescent, and the star.

My homesickness gets worse with every day.
It's not about the food anymore, or the atmosphere.

It's like.. feeling empty.
Feeling far away.

It's not about any people anymore, either.

It's like a dream, a far off dream, a day that I'm waiting for, but the day isn't coming anytime soon.

I've been listening to the national anthem on repeat for the last few hours, and it doesn't make it any better.

I can close my eyes, and imagine being back home, imagine every step that I take, and almost be able to.. feel the experience.

It's time to go back to being super busy and not having time to miss home.
It's the only thing that works.

A little longer.

He can almost see it, he knows he's almost there.

He reaches out, but there's nothing.

He opens his eyes.

There was never anything there, except an illusion.

Home is behind, the world ahead.

He looks out of the window; he can see the city lights, brightest in the dark just before dawn.
He smiles and takes pictures of the view with his camera, even as the passengers next to him chuckle.
He ignores them; he's the one who hasn't seen his home in years, and his excitement has been building with every passing second.

He keeps taking pictures, even after the airplane touches down and lands. He stays calm and doesn't jump out of his seat, even though almost every one else does. He has waited years for this, and he's patient enough to wait a little bit more, even though his heart won't stop racing.

He looks exhausted, but really happy at the same time; it's the look of someone who is at peace.
He walks through immigration and security; calmly collects his bags and loads them onto the trolley, and finally faces the front doors. He can feel the warm morning breeze, even with the air-conditioning. Every step brings him closer to what he's been waiting for.

He walks through the automatic sliding doors, and through the waiting crowd outside. He's used to it, but it still feels different every single time. There's no one waiting to meet him, but he had planned it this way. He was home earlier than everyone thought he would be. He takes a deep breath; this is what he's been waiting for.

He looks up at the bright sky, and frowns as the world starts turning black. It hits him in a sudden panic, and he wakes up. He's 8300 miles away from home, and it was just a dream.

Happy Birthday, Pakistan. I really miss you.

And you, you will stay in my heart.

How is it, that I remember every word you ever said to me?
How is it, that I remember every time you said my name?
How can I, still love you?
How can I, still miss you?

"And you are the one that lights the fire,
I am the one who takes you higher,
I love your voice when you say my name,
That's my name, that's my name, that's my name."

Why is it, that I remember the first time I met you?
Why is it, that I remember our first long conversation?
Why do I, still love you?
Why do I, still miss you?

"All the time, I thought about you,
I saw your eyes and they were so blue,
I could read there just one name,
My name, my name, my name."

How is it, that life feels empty without you?
How is it, that days go by, without a word from you?
Why is it, that I wish to hear your voice?
Why is it, that I miss you so?

"Because of you, I'm flying higher
You give me love, you set a fire,
You keep me warm, when you call my name,
That's my name, that's my name, that's my name."

Those summer memories.

"When I see you,
I run out of words to say,
I wouldn't leave you,

Cause you're that type of girl to make me stay."

The radio on his phone plays music while he sits in the shade.

Strong gusts of wind make the summer heat bearable.

The electricity is out; the usual few hours of rolling blackouts.

"I see the guys tryna' holla,

Girl, I don't wanna bother you,

Cause you're independent and you've got my attention,

Can I be your baby's father?
Girl I just wanna show you,

That I love what you're doing hun."

His phone keeps buzzing with new text messages, he's receiving texts just as fast as he can send them.

His dogs come and sit next to him; he smiles with the sad smile who's happy and sad at the same time.

"I see you in the club,

You're getting down good,

I wanna get with you, yeah,
I see you in the club,

You're showing thugs love,

I wanna get with you."

His eyes finally move away from the phone screen; he's had enough, and he puts the phone to a side and pets his dogs and talks to them.
It's relaxing talking to dogs, you know?

"You're so beautiful,

So damn beautiful,

Said you're beautiful,

So damn beautiful."

Oh, but the way she smiled.

She laughs and dances around the open balcony, singing along with the music.
"Won't you take me by the hand?
Take me somewhere new."

The rain, lightning, and thunder don't scare her at all.
She keeps moving around, like a child at Christmas.

"I don't know who you are,
But I.. I'm with you,
I'm with you."

She finally stops in the center and looks up at the sky with her arms wide open.
The door to the balcony opens and she smiles at him, still dressed in his suit and everything.
The song changes next second, and he half smiles and half sighs; he knows what's coming, and he's not wrong, she runs to him, and pulls him into the pouring rain, even with his blazer still on.

"Mami, you remind me of something,
But I don't know what it is,
Cause you remind me of something,
Girl, you gotta show me."

Love knows no end.

He looks around as he enters the room.
She's asleep, but then she has had a very tiring day.
Near her, there's a bassinet, and he quietly walks over to it.
He reaches down and gently picks up the newborn baby, and smiles with pure joy when he sees how much like her mother she looks.

"I'm surprised you're here."
He turns towards her, sees her exhausted eyes watching him, sees her fully relaxed for the first time in months.
"I may not be her father, but we are her parents."
"..I don't get it."
"Don't get what?"
"How can you.. love.. so much, even when it's not returned? How do you.. keep on going.. like that?
"Because love is to put someone else's needs before your own. That's all I try to do."
"I think I might actually love you."

The smile on his face grows as he carefully puts the baby back.
"You know, she actually looks just like you."

He looks up, but she's already fallen asleep.

We can be heroes, just for one day.

She was dead on arrival at the hospital, there was nothing they could have done to save her.
He stared at his phone, not really believing it, not fully understanding, still in a state of shock. It's been two years since he last spoke to her, two years since he saw her, two years since she drove away after yelling at him. It wasn't supposed to be this way, she was supposed to live longer than this, she was supposed to outlive him.

He just sat and stared around him; the walls faded into a blur as the full weight of what he had just heard hit him. She was dead. The car that ran the red light and hit her had overturned; the driver dead on impact. It didn't make him feel any better.

The last time he had spoken to her, he had told her that he wasn't going to apply for a transfer from Afghanistan to the States. She had been furious, but he hadn't told her the full truth, he hadn't told her that he had cancer. There was so much more that he hadn't told her; he wanted her to be happy, not to mourn him, especially not when he had stage three cancer. It was miraculous that he had lived as long as he had, but without her, he had lost every reason to live.

He still couldn't believe it, still couldn't understand that he'd never hear her voice again, never hear her laugh, never be able to talk to her again-and she had been all that mattered, especially after his family died in the house fire seven years ago.

He didn't realize what he was doing until he took the safety off his pistol. He stared at it, then turned the safety back on. He made a promise, years ago, and he wasn't going to break it.

His remains were buried next to her, months later, after he was killed, giving his life up by diving onto a grenade to protect his team. His Medal of Honor was buried with him.

Now, my soul sings

"The sign has been given," said Aragon, "and the day is not far off."

July 20th, 2016.

This gives me something to look forward to.

I plan to have had graduated and become a citizen before that date, so I can fly back home.
I miss home-I've never been away for this long-but then, life presents its challenges and we all meet them.

I lift my eyes to see Your face

I know my help is in Your Name

In everything

Held by hands

Of mercy

I'm taking 15 credit hours of summer classes-which is full time in a normal six-month semester and twice the full time coursework for summer-and working too, which is why I haven't had any time to blog or do anything much.

And I will run, and not grow weary

I will rise, in God my strength

My heart will trust

I asked a customer at work the other day if anyone was helping him.
He said he was being helped-by his wife-to go insane.

And yes, that was a joke-except that he actually did say that.

Now my soul sings

Your love, it knows no end

I'll post again when I can.

The song, by the way, is Love knows no end by Hillsong.

Back to the life I'm used to.

I'm totally busy these days.
Working almost full-time, taking classes full-time, being the family chauffeur, and working out.

A year ago, it was almost the same thing.. except that I was working two jobs, over full-time.

The best part about being busy is that I rarely get time to think about you.
I love you.
I don't know if you do, but it feels like you don't.

So I'm trusting Allah & His plan.
I'm not worried.
I just need someone to make my migraines go away.
They beat the hell out of me & it's not like a fist fight where I can outsmart someone.
I need you.

Where are you?