It is the end of February. I am new here. This is my first week. I am sitting on a public bench in front of ‘Le Meridien’ and ‘Dana Hotel’, enjoying the surprisingly cool breeze of the dying winters of Abu Dhabi.
The shade and the sun over here are starkly different. They do not seem to blend seamlessly into the other; there’s no gradual integration there. You step into the sunlight away from the comforting shade and you realize how bad it’s gonna get when summer arrives. in truth, I’m a little scared. I mean, me and excess heat just do not function that well. Add to that the three layers of clothes, tightly bound neck and a stifling suit, boy am I in for a shellacking.
The buildings around me are tall; cars around me slick; and the people around me confusingly minding their own business. Why is that? Why isn’t anybody staring at me? I don’t get it! I mean, I’m so used to it. All kinds of staring. Pakistanis love to stare. It isn’t just women as some people profess, no! It’s everything! Everything is our business.
It’s as Ali Gul Pir would say, ‘Bakri bhi taarunga, kutta bhi taarunga, building bhi taarunga, family bhi taarunga, gaari bhi taarunga‘.
We are a genuinely curious people. Everyone is interested in everything that you do. You, unwittingly, are a goddamned celebrity! And when your business becomes unimportant, you long for that attention. OK, maybe just a little bit. So yea, I am struggling a little bit with this anonymity in Abu Dhabi. I liked it better when everything was everyone’s business.
How one feels to be hurt
To be hurt by people who mean the world
People you’d sacrifice yourselves for, if need be
And how would it feel
When you cannot communicate the intensity of your emotion across
Marred by their insensitivity and your own alter-ego
Some would call it self-respect, some would call it fate
In the end, it’s just another pathway to hell’s gate
How would it feel, to despair
To scream at them outside, and
To bleed inside torn by blood love
To cry for them, as if tears made up of your very soul
To pray for them, as if praying for sins granted no penance
To fight a fight full of spite, how would it feel …
To know it’s a fight you’ll lose either way
When you know their triumph is despair for you
And your triumph is their despair
How would it feel, to counter an adversary as such,
An adversary you’d hate to hurt …
How would it feel, have you ever wondered?
What would you do with such ruthlessness?
When you try to get numb, when you surround yourself in ice
How would it feel for just one hot tear, painful as death itself
For just one such drop to vaporize ice?
How would it feel have you ever wondered?
To break a heart, I believe
It only needs love & hate
Have you ever felt
A contagious emotion such as love?
Have you ever wondered
About the irony that is love?
About the paradox that is love?