Jaasindah Mir's Blog

The Curse of Loneliness

I am bad with numbers, but that’s no excuse for this post to not start with some factual researched statistics about loneliness that I have come across read and learning about this over the years. But I can say this, and anyone would believe this anyway that people today are lonelier than ever. As clichéd as it may sound, in a world where you can reach out to anyone with just some nimble movements of your fingers, we are finding it harder and harder to reach out to anyone.
As humans, we all need people around us. To talk, to share things with, to love, to be friends with, to touch, to laugh with, to cry with, and so many things. Having someone around us is so essential and inherent that even as infants, if our mothers don’t seem around us enough, we are irritable and can grow up to live with potential psychological issues.
Today, when we have the possibility of making friends with people anywhere in the entire world, when we can pick anyone to date with a swipe of a thumb, when we can talk to our family miles away without paying an extra penny, when we can converse face to face with our beloved anywhere in the world no matter how much distance (or time) separates us, we are still ending up alone in coffee shops, sipping our coffee, earphones in our ear and sometimes scribbling on the napkins. On other times, gulping down the food for two by ourselves at a restaurant. And then coming back home with no one to unwind to and narrate how we had a close shave walking down the street or how lovely it was when we met an interesting stranger at the church. And sometimes when our arms feel weary – almost in pain, for lack of someone – a family member, a friend, a lover -  to hold on to when we are feeling down in the dumps. And for many of us, even sadly, we lie in the bed in the arms of another person, still feeling as forlorn as anyone could be.
For the ones who don’t feel lonely, this situation will be seen from a different perspective than the ones who feel lonely. Loneliness, as many might assume, isn’t an objective situation. It is highly subjective. I might be sitting in a room full of people, and yet feel lonely. I might be living all alone, and yet not feel lonely. Well, this is something that many people would know already. But there is a lesser known catch 22 situation that lonely people land themselves into beyond this – the thing that I call the curse of loneliness, to be precise.
The curse is that, very paradoxically, a person who feels lonely avoids with all their might any active human contact they can have. This is the behaviour that keeps them etched into their loneliness and feeds it even more. It’s a never ending loop. You are lonely, you avoid people, as a result you end up even lonelier and again avoid people, and there is no way out of it.
Someone I talked to this afternoon told me I was overthinking it when I told them that when one feels left out, they isolate themselves even more. They probably wouldn’t understand the point I was making.
As a person who has gone through this, I know how another person who is lonely reacts most of the time. It is not ironical or even surprising when a person complains that he is lonely, and yet ends up cancelling plans, saying no to go meet up with someone, giving the excuse that they are busy on the weekend when all they are doing is eating a packet of chips and watching videos on their phone on their bed. They cringe at the sight of a ringing phone, in the dilemma whether to pick it or not and at the same time making up an excuse to give later to the caller as to why they missed the call. They most likely have a string of messages on their phone that are unanswered, with them procrastinating about writing back at the later time of the day when they are ‘free.’
In the world that’s grown to be so individualistic, it is difficult to both get someone else we care about out of loneliness and also to get oneself out of it, thinking about the intrusion we could be making into another’s life by forcing them to go out with us or to call someone up and speak our heart out to them. The era of social media has left us socially handicapped – giving us a false sense of having people around us.
We are all on our own.
Yet, when there’s no one to lend us a hand when we are there in the dumps, we could consider extending our own hand to ourselves; and if possible, sometimes to someone we encounter in the dumps as we make our way out through it.

No Man on God's Earth is a Nobody

“No man on God’s Earth is a nobody.”
This was what I read when I was in school. Sophie Kinsella said that in a very, what many would call, a trivial book, Twenties Girl. The quote of course doesn’t look something extraordinary but when we think of it, it is huge. Well, like many great things are - basic but huge, just being taken for granted.
Since last night, well, the Vale of Kashmir has been mourning the killing of renowned journalist, Editor in Chief of the newspaper Rising Kashmir – Dr. Syed Shuja’at Bukhari. It was indeed saddening; heart wrenching. Everyone around me who I knew was shocked by the news that he had been shot dead while leaving his office last night in his car. I was equally shaken.
I haven’t known him up close, but many I know have. And they are naturally very saddened by the news. He was an intellectual, as they say. A journalist of great mettle and calibre and by going through all the posts I have seen about him containing his recent tweet feed, it looked like he had been a staunch supporter of the Kashmir cause and was raising his voice against oppression in the valley. I do not know what anyone would have gained by having him murdered.
 The valley is in absolute lamentation about the loss it has had in his death. Everyone’s Facebook timeline, Twitter feed and WhatsApp stories have had a common theme since yesterday – the condolences and condemnation about his killing. But is there something we are missing?
There were two other people who were killed with him – his PSOs. One, who was killed in the car itself and another, who died at the hospital later. Not a single person is talking about them. Just like their life perhaps, their death was shadowed by someone ‘bigger’ than them. Even as they died, they continued to remain nobodies, because a ‘somebody,’ who they technically died for, was much more valued than them.
I do not deny that the death of Shuja’at Bukhari is a loss to the valley. Yes, we did lose someone who spoke for us and was doing a commendable job. It is extremely sad and it should be mourned. But all I say is, why isn’t the loss of those two young men being mourned? Why is just nobody talking about them? Why do we not see they too had been doing a commendable job of whatever they were assigned? They died for work too! If Shuja’at Bukhari was prized to us, they were just as valuable. They were after all, protecting someone that was valuable to Kashmir!
But we wouldn’t recognise their value. After all, they were just PSOs. Totally replaceable. Isn’t it? No! It isn’t. They were equally important to us despite the fact that they were no representatives of our people. Not everyone is supposed to do that! If everyone did the same job, who would do the rest? Just because they weren’t doing what we ‘perceive’ as valuable doesn’t mean that they ‘weren’t’ valuable to us. A trash collector is just as significant as a district collector. I dare you go a week without any of your trash being picked up by a trash collector. If a district collector doesn’t work for a week, it might not exactly bother you as much on a daily basis.
Those two guys weren’t nobodies. They were somebodies, too. And if you still fail to see their importance at large, know that they were somebodies to their kith and kin, at least.
While we do and must mourn the brutal killing of Dr Bukhari, we must with equal intensity of emotion, and maybe more, mourn the loss of those two young men. They are just as indispensable and they aren’t nobodies. Life has equal value for everybody.

Simple Complexity

I met this friend of mine today who wants everything to be back the way it was months ago between us. I tried to tell him that one cannot turn back the time just like that, but he wouldn't quite understand.
Later I thought about his pleas. And i reckon that even if I forget everything and be back to what we were, he would be the one who wouldn't be able to give us back what we had. How do I know? Because i do. I have that feeling and I have enough of experience to judge that as well.
People are all temporary. At least with me, everyone had been so. And I accept this as the Gospel of my life now. They've always been temporary and they will be temporary always. No exceptions.
And it's okay. People change. But you get to choose what your standards will be. If you will fall below your dignity to hold your relationships together or let them be naturally and be laid back.
I've been a person of the former kind who's turning into the latter. No bullshit from anyone anymore. Life's too complicated and beautiful for that. I dont want to lose the beauty anymore for anyone.
But you know, you sometimes wish that life was just so simple and we could keep feelings in air tight compartments without letting them mix. Life is a huge compartment with percolating smaller compartments and everything gets mixed into the other. You live multiple and many times contradictory feelings. Dilemmas all over.
I remember my teacher telling me "Life is Simpli-complex." And so it is.

A Madness of Mad Conciousness

Today, after seeing a friend this evening and driving back home, I was in another world. Getting home on my bed, with a series of uncontrollable thoughts running through my head, I closed my eyes. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's one super amazing song blaring into my eardrums, one thought drove through the next and I ended thinking something (I don't remember what it was) about my cell phone and it had me thinking about my contacts and WhatsApp, its privacy settings and then I thought about this friend who I just removed from my Contacts after a friendship of years together. I wondered if he'd be able to see something if I put it up on the profile. I know it sounds like  very drab stream of consciousness thingy but trust me it seemed quite thinkable when I was thinking it. And that's how our thoughts are generally, who re we kidding? So, I think an average person's stream of consciousness is about such trivially trivial matters most of the time. 
Anyway, to cut a long story short, because I m not quite able to make very good flowery sentences right now, I'll tell you what a wonderful thought I had thinking all this phone-y stuff. It was that how wonderful life could be if our memory was just like the cell phone memory. I mean, you have this friend, you have a fight with him, you used to talking with him over WhatsApp which was your only frequent medium of contact, you go to your phone and delete that contact from your contacts and poof! that person is gone from your phone forever (unless of course you add them back). Your phone doesn't recognise them. They are anonymous to your phone. Never seen of the number, never heard of it. Entirely a stranger. Your phone is clear of all the memories. All of them. The person is gone from your phone's universe. All it takes is a delete option and OK.
However, it doesn't mean that you are gone from theirs. you are still there in their universe ( read: WhatsApp favourites list), just blank. and unavailable and silent (read: stonewalling them)
I wish it was the same with life. You press delete and they're gone from your universe. You have no memories of them and they're gone as if they never were. However, you stay right in the. Blank, quiet, and unavailable. A face behind the veil. How great would it be?
Okay, it doesn't sound very smart or extraordinary right now but trust me it sounded like I had theorised something like Socrates would have, when I was thinking of this analogy. It sounds a little drab right now, but it wouldn't if you thought like I did. 
Nevertheless, as I write it right now, I get struck about another thing. Doesn't this happen in our lives already? Somebody just throws you off your memory, just like that. There is an automatic delete button, albeit a little delayed than the quickness of our phones. It deletes everything, too. 
And it isn't necessary that it has to be you who is in someone's universe without them being in yours. It could be the other way round too. It might be them who stay in your universe, unavailable and blank while you are already gone from theirs. They could be the ones to press delete. And they might be quicker than you. Voluntarily. 
PS: Well, if this sounds some real rambling, ignore it. It was written out of utter madness. 

God's Plans

You never know what He has in store for you.
Mevlana said, "The wound is the place where the light enters you."
Mevlana also taught us about patience. He taught us about gratitude.
The more you ponder upon the realities of what the world is like and the more you think about what the great saints have taught us, the more you realise that this world is not arbitrary. It is God everywhere. It is God in everything. It is God's plan. All of it.
And once you have God, do you really need anything else? Never.
Mevlana also taught us to "Live as if the whole universe is rigged in your favour." I think that is something that can build great faith in us. If we think God has rigged it all in our favour, what a bigger trust could we show towards Him, what bigger faith? These words of Mevlana seem to be a higher version of "God will make all right".I wouldn't deny that God is bestowing me with wounds over and over again. But maybe, he is doing this just so that light enters me and I get closer to him.Then I think, should I be thankful for falling and failing so many times? Should I be thankful for every wound? No wonder that it bought me closer to God, it told me how helpless I am, and how God is the only help but it has been painful. Then I wonder, has all this pain been worth it? Have I really gained enough? Have I made the best use of my wounds? Or have I after each healing of the wound forgotten to get back to God so he had to givee me newer wounds to bow before him again?There are so many questions. And when no answers come, I decide that the best thing to do is not to put logic into everything, but to put in faith and say Thank you, God.

Rose on the Snow

My heart bleeds into my handThe colour of a red rose on beaten snowIn agony of its decay and defeatTo reach to you, to let you know.
It stains my life, as it stains my soulTo see you so far after I let goYou were supposed to be right in this heartThe one that bleeds unreservedly  now.
The heart on my hands slips off two waysI want to grip it, just tell me how.With it flows every heartfelt vowWith it does flow our sacred love.

The Peacock

I have always been mesmerized by the beauty of peacocks and peahens. As a child, the colors in them would always leave me amazed. What a creation! 
But are the rest of the things any less, i think of it today. If there is this wonderfully wonderful peacock or peahen that has been made by the Creator’s Hands, there is this meek little black and ennui Koel bird that has had its birth at the same Hands. And then there is this huge mighty ostrich. Who is better? Could we just take them to be at par?
But come to think of it, what my eyes tell me, is that the peacock steals the show. It doesn’t need the koel bird’s voice or the ostrich’s magnanimity. It is the peacock. That is all it wants to be. The peacock.There has been a time in everyone’s life when they have felt like the peacocks. Whether they be the koels, or ostriches, they have felt like peacocks. They haven’t been proud of being the koels or ostriches. They have lived like a peacock in their head. And when the rain would come, they would be happy and happy and even happy. They would dance and cheer and make merry. They would swirl and swirl and swirl. And suddenly, they would see their feet. The feet that they do want, but don’t quite like. The feet that make them want to die. The feet that just…. They could have been different. The feet that are not different. 
They don’t make merry anymore. They are mellow. They are remorseful. Their hearts are heavy, of melancholy, of pain. They feel like, what the hell was i so crazy about that i danced like mad? What!…The reality sinks in, partially. They for moments realise that they aren’t even the peacocks. They are someone else.But, does the rain ever stop hitting the feathers of the peacocks and peahens again?

June, 16: Father's Day

It is Father's Day today. June 16 happens to be my Dad's birthday as well. His fifty first birthday.
I remember Father's Day normally falling around his birthday. I always wanted it to be a Sunday on his birthday so that his birthday and the Father's Day would coincide and we could have a great celebration.
Today the Days coincide and I don't have my father around to celebrate with.
Everyone is talking about Fathers today. Everyone is just so happy wishing their Dads. Everyone's thanking their father. It gives me a mushy feeling. I don't know why but it does.
There aren't enough words to thank your parents in this world. There aren't enough gestures to show that you are grateful to them. I think of the story of Shravan Kumar who took his blind parents on a pilgrimage on his shoulders all the way and yet wasn't able to pay them back for all they had done for him in his life. It is very true for everyone of us, of course we barely understand.
I can't do all the thanking I would want to do for what my parents have done for me. But i have enough ways and means to apologise for the wrongs i have done them. For when I would sulk for days ifbi would think I was being nagged at about something. For when I took them for sworn enemies ever ready to take mu freedom away. When I called them over protective and  intolerant when  they would tell me not to be with the people I thought were my friends. When i thought of them being oppressive while they guided me, stopping me from doing things that I loved. For the times I wanted to get away from them as quickly as I could and in all the ways I could, by all the means I could.
You only realise their worth when you don't have them around.
Lets be better sons and daughters and then wish our parents the happy father's or mother's days.

I badly want to yell it out to my parents that I am sorry for the bad daughter I have been. Always.

And yes, also do i want to sing A happy birthday to my dad.

The stab

Sometimes you just want to give yourself a little, no, a fine big stab. When you feel utterly frustrated. When you want something and still don’t want it. When you badly crave for something and still want to chuck it away.Life is certainly a modicum of happiness. You don’t get what you want, and even if you get it , it still isn’t the way you want it.When you are told speak your heart out and when you do so, you are misunderstood. Badly.The moment you want to say… 
‘Yaad e maazi azaab hai ya rabb/
Cheen le mujhse haafiza mera’When you just want to loose your senses and go mad. Literally.How lucky are the people who have gone insane. How damn lucky…

Where I belong

I don’t know what to do and what to believe. Yes, I want to be religious. Religious and spiritual. But, ah, do my dreams truly have to die? I sometimes want to say that God has played this little prank with us sending is to this earth. I know it is blasphemy but why shouldn’t I think so? There is so much of pain in the world. Yes i know. Buddha’s Nirvana said that it was all because of attachment. But if we are not to have any sort of attachment then why has God instilled such instincts in ua that we love things and people and ideas and dreams and whatever. Isn’t it an exam too long? An exam to keep yourself from what you want and suffer all the time. 
I want to read something spiritual, something that would show me the way. Something like Eat, Pray, Love. 
Okay, i will eat. I will pray. but i am not supposed to love. HahaI sometimes want to tear my hair apart.. What do i do? what do i do? what do i do? Which way do I go?What ever path i take, it would just have pain and longing and suffering. But God wants us to be that way. He is a dictator. Such a dictator.And you can’t even complaint. I feel like laughing. I so feel like laughing.Iqbal was right. “Dard e dil ke waaste paida kiya insaan ko, warna ibaadat ke liye aur bhi thi kurabiyan”