There were lots of couples on the beach that day.....
And then there was me, people-watching like I often do....
The group of blond guys smoking sheesha at the cafe next to Shatti Plaza...
The couple in the black shirts sitting on the wall with the setting sun behind them.......oh what a beautiful pic that'd have made....
The firang (hate to use the word, but no other word springs to mind) couple in white on the steps....the Filipino teens in blue, flushed with young love....And then there's me, lying down on the wall, watching the orange sun turn red and hazy, reading the little declarations of love etched out in the sadn, wondering why that girl's worn shorts with black stockings (I mean, stockings on the beach? First time I've seen that....)
It would be nice to find someone here, someone mad enough to come alone to the beach, without a reason, and then I can plonk myself next to them and say "hi" and smile, and then maybe a conversation will start........
Yeah, that'd be cool...
It'll happen. Someday sometime.
Till then, it's just me smiling at the sunset.

On Impulse

So today we initiated Tina into the marvel that is Muttrah Souq.
Damn I love that place, I could stay there forever, just as long as I had my camera. But sadly no camera today. Boo.
One day I'm going to go back, on my own, and explore every little alley and lane, and open my eyes and look at the place with the developing eye of a photographer. And then I'm going to come home and be happy with my work.....
So we'd gone there to buy a gift for someone, a colleague of mom's and Tina's......it's like a little treasure hunt in there.....you never know what you'll find....and once the doors of a shop vanish behind you, you never know if you'll be able to find your way there the next time.....every few metres a new alley opens up a bhandaar of possibilities......
I've mostly been here at night, it adds to the mystique of the place....but there is something to be said about it when it's in blazing sun. I looked up at the ceiling to see a glass mosaic with the sunlight filtering through, I look around me, I see silver and stones in every corner, sacks heaped with spices, piles of shawls, mojhdis in a neat row, abayas, telescopes, jewelry and curios handed down through generations.......cheap toys, in fact this is one of the best places to come for them, mom buys dolls for her special ed. class here, mostly.
It hurts to get out of here.....
So this shop we went into, it has these beautiful lockets and all, semi-precious stones in an open setting in silver, lovely floral designs and all, as well as strings of stones, little studs, rings........as mom picked out her choice, I slid up to the counter and enquired about the possibility of getting my ears pierced....
"Peerbucks," the man told me. "5-6 shops down, in this line."
Off I went, mom following....and then I found it, an unassuming shop with a picture of a piercing gun on the door.
In I go, mark the spot with a dot of ink, squeeze mom's hand and shut my eyes tight as Tina regales us with a story about how some guy in Rajasthan pierced her ear with a hot needle....
Prepare to feel excruciating pain that will make me scream and scram...
and open my eyes as the stud rams into my lobe..
"That's IT???"
And we go home, a stud richer.....4 rials poorer.....but happy.....

I hate people who make us feel bad about our bodies.....and other things.

I'm beautiful. I know that. I've got lovely long lashes, great hair and all.
I also know I'm goddamned skinny.
I've always been thin. Bit Chubby as a kid, skeletal through primary and middle school. Same beautiful lashes, but eyebrows twice their current size (It's great what a roll of thread and dexterous hands can do.....). But I knew I was a healthy kid. Quite strong too, because when I'd hit people, my bones hurt them.
Middle school was the time when most girls started getting hints of curves, some of them had more than just a hint, but my body stayed poker-straight. Most girls started getting a bit feminine, but me, jeans, shorts and loose shirts ruled my wardrobe. Jewellery was bought but never worn.
"You're too thin, Myst," my "so-called" best friend at the time often told me. "It's sick, really. You have got to put on some weight. Not much, just to fill you out a little."

I hated it.I didn't think I looked sick at all. I was healthy. Sure, I'd like to gain a bit of weight, but what could I do? Someone up there had given me the gift of a thin body. The ability to eat anything with an obscene amount of fat and carbs and not have it show on me at all.
My other best friend, she had issues about being a bit on the plumper side.
Now that I call ironic.

Still slim, I passed out of middle school into 9th grade, where popularity was sadly judged mostly by beauty, curves, cup size and number of relationships.I had neither.
Ok, I don't actually know how they judged popularity, but I notice that most of those girls had all this going for them. except one, and she's like my body double, only a bit taller.

What I hate? How the shape of a girl's body dominates relationship chances. If you don't have a great bod, you better be exactly on the same wavelength as them if you want to have a chance with them.
Yeah, I know your figure has a lot to do with it, but this much??So much so that guys would pass up a smart, witty, fun-to-be-with overweight/skinny girl for one who has beauty without brains?

Now I'm 16. I've filled out a bit. not much mind you, but just a little bit. I have a nice flat stomach that people envy, and I like my hips. But I'm not busty. Sometimes that saddens me. I know it shouldn't, but it does.......
As a Wise One said, look at these models, (I have been, and she's right.) most of then are the same size as you. It's ok if you're not busty, you know? It really doesn't matter.

Still. Sometimes mirrors depress me too. Standing in my underwear in the dressing room at Forever21, I assess myself. I make a face. Bend over, clasp hands together. Smile. Straighten up. Bleh.
Walk out, (fully dressed.) Pick up black lace bra, a size larger than what I wear now. Sneak it back into the dressing room and try it on. It fits me like a little black extension of my skin, and it looks gorgeous.Vair comfy.I'm happy. I saunter out with a wistful smile, after examining the price tag and my almost-empty wallet.
I will be back for you.

It's not just me, everyone has body issues, however gorgeous they look. Sneh has a perfect petite figure with beautiful hips I'd die for, and she wants to lose weight.
This other girl I know has a reputation for two things, for being VERY busty, and for having a long long string of guys......But even she has body issues, she wonders why she's so unrealistically well endowed in the bra, wishes she could be smaller so that guys see her for herself.....
Then why am I worried, really? Me, I'm thin. I don't have the best figure, But I'm satisfied with it. So guys who say they like me, they'll like who I am, and not what I look like. It makes such a big difference........
I'd thought this post out quite well, but I've forgotten a lot of it......All I can say is...A girl's personality does not lie in her bra.

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I'm with a friend I haven't seen in six months. We went to the mall, hung around at Starbucks, where I glomped a mocha, bought two books, ogled a few more. Went to Centrepoint ond tried on stuff we'd never wear, I actually got to see the girl in a full length evening gown (well, as much as I could see when she was hiding behind the dressing room door). I paid for lunch, she paid for dessert (we tried out the chocolate fountain at the food court, I had cocolate covered strawberries, she had a chocolate covered croissant.). We were basically being crazy chicks.
It should have been the perfect day.....but it wasn't.
Firstly, I was thinking about the whole body image thing. But that normally doesn't get me down.....

I looked at this crazy girl I've loved for three years, and I couldn't help but feel I was losing her. 'Tis natural, she's gone to a school where she's found great friends, guys who're as smart as her, girls whom she can trust......I stay in my world where I'll always trust guys more because they don't judge you, at least the ones I choose to trust don't.

"you have changed..." She told me in the cab.
"Toldja, didn't I?" I've been through quite a lot since we last met, so I know I've changed. I'm a little more silent. A little less of a child.
"But you'll still be a maniac compare to my friends in Abu Dhabi" she said.
"Are they that sane?"

It should have been the perfect day. But something didn't allow it to be. Maybe it was that conversation I'd had in the morning, that tired me out, mind and body.Maybe it was that we both agreed there was a distance that hadn't been there before, Not a huge distance, but it was there. We both knew this.

But the love's still there. We're both very different, and that pulls us together. Opposites attract, I always told her. That's why we're stuck together.

She's the kind who'll turn away (and play with her phone) during the kissing scenes in movies, doesn't swear, Is feminine and mature, and induces laughter. The kind who put on disapproving expressions when we were reading this.Wears long skirts, mostly. The kind who's focused on the path as well as the destination, The one who hates exercise and loves dogs.

I'm the kind who'll shamelessly watch and wish I was there, swears a lot when I'm mad, Is a total tomboy, used to slide down stair banisters. Doesn't laugh much, but laughs at things only I find funny. Laughed throughout this. Wears shorts/cargo pants with a loose T-shirt. the kind who wants the end, the means will take care of themselves, and the one who NEEDS exercise, is a bit scared of larger dogs and has two cats at home.

There's much more. "I'll put it all up here," I told her, "all those hilarious differences.
They draw us closer. The only thing we share is that her birthday begins the moment mine ends. And that forged a friendship.

Judgement Day

Yeah, that was today, the inevitable after exam judgement day.....

Papers. Marks. Urgh.

You saunter into class all carefree and Mystique, exams are over, you don't give a rat's ass what happens now......
Then why're you nervous before they give the papers??
O-kaaaaaaaaaaaay, faker.......

So. Marks.
Ok-ok, I managed above 80 in everything, except Engineering Drawing and Chem. Chem was absolutely abysmal.
Overall percentage? 79.4, which is apparently great for 11th grade science. I think not.
This is probleme. I care too much about my marks. If I didn't care, it would be so much easier......
Anyway, stick with the caring for a year and then I'm free free free.

I did go to the beach, and it was good, the friend I went with was a great person to talk to, and I got a mocha out of it. Mmmmmmm
" You know, you're drinking that like you're having sex with it", he tells me as I look at him over the mug. I always drink mochas like this, letting my lips sink into the cloud of cream, letting the coffee underneath burn my tongue, licking, savouring the taste.
"Closest I'll get to it for a while", I mutter.

Long talks about his relationship, my anger.....
Long taxi ride home....
Long wait for mom to show up (I didn't have the house keys)
yes, I enjoyed.

Now. Since my mahaan friends can't go for a movie with me, I go with Tina. Mom's friend. And kinda mine too.
27 Dresses.
Don't laugh at me for watching chick-flicks, I am a girl after all.

The weather it gets hotter. Shorts and strappies in use. ah, for a cool breeze to caress my face.....

Sagittarius: You will prove someone wrong today. They said you could never do it, but you did!

That is my Facebook horoscope for the day. I'm intrigued.
Anyway.....

My exams are over. they're over, o joy and rapture and all manner of happinesses.....they're over.
My math paper was brilliant. I followed my same old strategy of not studying the day before maths. Watched FRIENDS. and a movie.
So. you think I have no reason to be home now, na?
But no-oo.....these friends of mine do not wish to go anywhere.
Rather, parental permission is denied.
Don't ask me, my parents are way cooler than theirs...

So I'm off. Beach. Today evening. Not alone though, mom got worried at the last minute about letting me go alone. I gave her my usual cribbage about how "if I were in Mumbai...."
"but you're not in Mumbai. So it's different."
"grmblgrmbl I don't see why......"

Ok, ok.. whatever.
My original plan was to go sit on the beach, introspect a bit, and get a mocha...
now lets see what to do. Now that I have company, maybe I'll go bowling.
hmf. I will see.

I am happy.
I feel like a little kid that goes bounce-bounce. and gives wide smiles.
And then shuts her mouth when she remembers what she looks like when she smiles.....
Ugh.

Anyway. I have two weeks before I embark upon the "most imprtant school year of my life" (and truly the last year I'll ever care about my marks)
So. These two weeks will involve a lot of book-reading, movie-watching, out-going, and maybe ear-piercing if I work up the guts and get someone to hold my hand.
Have fun all. I depart.

Snip-Snip, et voila!!

Here we go again....
Every 6 months or so I get utterly bored with my hair, however long and beautiful it may be. It is but natural. I've had my hair at every length possible, right from guy-short to midway down my back. And it grows REALLY fast.....like last year, it was really short, like I almost looked like a guy, and now it's midway down my back.
At least, it was, till a few hours ago.....
Me and Tina, both being supremely fed up with our hair, got appointments to go and get it cut together. Mom came along as our means of transport and to may-----be just get her hair cut. Too darn long, she said, it's a pain to wash. But we had just two appointments, and nothing was sure.
So now Tina has beautiful waves and I have a short straight cut that goes midway down my neck. good. It's different. It's sophisticated and uncharacteristically un-messy. Whoot.
So after admiring each others hair, we asked the stylist if she'd do mom's hair without an appointment. She agreed, and mom, rather apprehensive, sat in the hot-seat.

After untying her hair from its customary long braid and combing it out, Flavy (the stylist) gave mom's hair a rather wistful look and said, "Madam, why do you want to cut your hair? You know, I normally don't cut hair that's this long....."
This brought out a couple of the other salon ladies who looked longingly at mom's hair, all draped over the chair like a sheet, and berated her for wanting to cut it, 'coz most girls pray for long thick hair like mom's, and here's this silly lady wanting to cut it off......

Now mom's always had long hair. Really long. Like, all the way down to her butt. And she NEVER leaves it open, it's always in this long long braid, which the kids she teaches sometimes enjoy pulling. And it's been 16 years since she last cut it. Well, she did ask me to trim it some 5-6 years ago, but I kinda botched it up. So doesn't count. And, yes, the first time she's got it cut in a salon since 3rd grade. Big shock to Tina and me.....
She just wanted it trimmed a bit, but I stepped in, told Flavy to cut it a bit shorter, like 5 inches below her shoulders, and give it some layers and all.....

So that's what she did. 15 minutes of the short stylist lady buzzing around mom's head.....and what we see is a total transformation. I see my mother with her hair open for the very first time.
Ooh, that's definitely getting some good reactions tomorrow.....
For me, it's like a big thing. Mom leaves hair open, Mom's hair is not in the braid that I've gotten so used to seeing my entire life....
Ooh, I wonder what dad'll say......
For mom it means it's less of a pain to maintain.
Huh.
So we're all quite happy with our hair now.
But mom, well, what can I say....I'm proud of you.
Now if we could just get you to henna it..........lol.

LOuve without boundary.

She's sitting on my lap. And she's purring.
I wanted to go study, but now is impossible, how can I dislodge her without hurting her feelings?
She looks drunk.....
With those beautiful gold eyes she looks at me, calls to me....but what she speaks I cannot understand...
Come on, lets have you back up here....
With little cute noises she surveys the world from my lap, closes her eyes in sheer ecstasy as I rub her under the ears.
She's So soft...so cute you almost want to glompf her....
With deep sighs, I put the computer off, brush the cat fur off my shirt and get back to work.

I've run out of titles. Hmph.

And here we are again.
What does one do the day before the chem exam? One studies. But Mystique does not.
Oh, no....Mystique is fed up. So she does NOT study.
ah whatever.....I'm passing....I don't care....
These exams tres abominable are beginning to irritate me to no end....the only intelligence they really judge is wheter one is smart enough to study.
I have one paper left, that's math, on Saturday. I'm literally gonna be camping out at my tutor's I guess, if she has much to do about it......

Hmm....it's funny what happens to me when I'm in the shower....ideas come up....floating through the mind, but they disapper before I can catch them. Funny, but it always happens. A lot comes through my mind when I'm in the shower. Must be all the hot water.....

Anyway. After my exams, I'm gonna be spontaneous. I'm hopefully going to get permission to get out of the house on my own....To those my age who live in India, this is already granted, nay, necessary, but girls here don't use public transport, they just don't. Mothers don't think it's safe. I don't know why, all the guys tell me that the taxi drvers are gay. Huh, I guess I'll find out for myself.....
So It's gonna be me gallivanting, very much looking forward to this.....
Hmm....I had a lot to write.....
Bhool Gayi.

Oh, I got my phone back! Funnily now, I feel I can live without it......
For the first few days, It was like how druggies feel when they don't get their daily dose. That's how attached I was to the thing, I guess.....So I suppose this phone confiscation has been for the better, in a way....It was like a liberation, an OCD taken away.......
What actually got me down?
I've been rather angry these days, and I needed music. And it was all on the phone. So the music was what I was actually missing.
Still. I must re-learn how to live with silence. Walking the roads with music on nearly got me run down....I'm lucky I'm in Muscat, I wouldn't survive ten minutes in Mumbai like that.

Reality Check: This is what the world is.

God, something's really hit me in the heart.Gulf News tabloid has this weekly thing where they publish posts from blogs written by Middle East nationals. Not for them those self-ranting blogs that we write, we who live in metropolitan cities and crib about exams and traffic woes and heartbreaks. No, some of these hit you and bring you back to reality like nothing else. Mostly they're about Dubai, rants, as I'd call them, but what I read yesterday really shook me.

Diary of a Palestinian Mother

The Gaza Genocide
We celebrated Yousuf's fourth birthday today. We ate cake. And we counted the bodies. We sang happy birthday. And my mother sobbed. We watched the fighter jets roar voraciously on our television screen, pounding street after street; then heard a train screech outside, and shuddered. Yousuf tore open his presents, and asked my mother to make a paper zanana, a drone, for him with origami; And we were torn open from the inside, engulfed by a feeling of impotence and helplessness; fear and anger and grief; despondence and confusion.

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And there's a photo there, of relatives of a Hamas Fighter, mourning at his funeral. And as happens to me a lot, the words I write fail to do justice to what I'm feeling.
These are the brave ones. These are the ones who have every right to complain about their misfortune. These live unpredictable lives, hanging by a thread, they are the ones who truly do not know if there will be a tomorrow. Their lives, their homes and their happiness can be wiped out in a matter of minutes, so effortlessly, by bombs dropped by people who probably don't care, people who're just following orders.
These are the ones who have every right and opportunity to break.
And yet they don't.

These have seen and experienced more hardship than we ever will. They are the strong ones, the ones we need to admire and the ones we need to learn from. People like us, we'll never truly understand what it is to be them, the ones who live in the midst of war.

From them we must learn
To be thankful for every new day that we're alive, thankful that we are sane, full and healthy.They can't take this for granted, for they never know when it will all be whisked away.To see the little joys in our lives for these matter more than the large sorrows.Butterflies, the laugh of a baby, purring cats, pictures in the cloudsWe must learn to shift our focus to the good in our lives.We know we're lucky. Somewhere at the back of our mind, we know. But things like this make it really hit you.

I'm sorry I'll never be able to understand what it's like to live among pain and still find happiness, to live, being grateful for each and every minute of your live, to smile for your child when your heart's breaking, to tell him you'll be safe when you yourself aren't sure.....
I bow my head to you.
I have much to learn from you, Mother From Gaza.

Out!

So sick, I tell ya.....
So here we are, back again, being that girl I hate. I'm so Sick snd Tired of this state of mind I tell ya....
Sick of not knowing what or who I am....I've lost it I say...
I thought I was doing pretty okay, you know? I thought I was reasonably happy, but no-oo, it's back, all the crappy feelings, all the uncertainty, all the......the.....word, dunno what to call it, it's all back.
She's right, I think, I need to grow up, in every way.
She's right, I shouldn't lose my level.
She's right, my thoughts are scattered and sometimes it's downright irritating.
Oh god, these mentors of mine, I find them everywhere, but they speak so much and it makes so much sense but then it all melts away, somewhere. I'm lucky to have them. I'm lucky to have everything I need.
Damn my back hurts.
I wish I could put into words what I'm thinking, but I can't.

Live your last Day.

Yeah, my phone's gone.
For what?
for receiving a message which can be classified as 'tres tres personal question' or 'unnecessary shit' or 'how can you get messages like this??'
yeah, from a guy.
Dear Lord almighty. They read everything.
Breach of trust, know your limits, that kinda thing.
Not good.
Not happy. At all.
The heck, he's my best friend, I gotta be that open with one person, just one....
Not right, shouldn't be thinking like this, they say....
Huge argument.
Something happened again today morning, went a bit overboard again.....A bit over the lines again....It wasn't about the phone anymore, it was everything else, it was the way I am...
Why can't I just be happy huh? I have everything. Why not happiness?
I told mom today in the car, after I'm 20 I'm gonna live each day like it's my last....
Why after 20, she said?
Ok, but how can I do it now? there's something in me.....just not happy.
How would you do it if you were in Mumbai, in Dharavi? No phone, nothing.....
I dunno.....I'd find a broken water pipe and dance in it I suppose....
Then why can't you be happy now? It's just a state of mind you know....it just takes something small...
Phine, then. I'm gonna change. No more psychogiri...Live happy, turn the little sad switch off.
Find something to be happy about, every day.
Live like you're gonna die in an hour.
Sodden mess, I tell ya.
Question: How do you release your anger?