I did an angapradikshanam today – which is basically a person rolling on the pavement around a temple half naked. I did not realize that this would be so strenous, as it was today. I have done it before, notwithstanding that – this was simply tiring – I couldn’t stand up for like half an hour after that.
My brother came today. As it always happens, I look forward to him coming and then we start fighting almost immediately. This is like a routine thing now.
The way I see it, your sibling is like the only person that you can claim to be your own. I don’t mean this in the sense that you possess him, but in the sense that you grow up with him, fight together, mature together, and share your life together. This may have happened by the circumstances of having been raised in the same household.
Y0us sibling is the first person to whom you misbehave, the first person that your experiment with hurt, the first person whom you fought with knowing fully well that you’ll make up the next day. The
The relationship with your brother or a sibling is something that you never stop trying to fix. It’s as if you are incomplete without it – like a part of your own soul is missing.
Of course, tomorrow we’ll be fine. And once I move away, we’ll call and talk to each other like before, as if we were never away. Always a heart beat away.
I had a very good workout at the gym today. I feel tired and drained out. I love it. I have only been warming up and doing Abs routines.
Unfortunately, four months of home stay has affected my stomach significantly. I have a big belly now and am rightfully ashamed of it.
It’s funny how hard it is to get a good body but so easy to lose it. I’m very excited about singapore. And for all the wrong reasons. I am thinking food, chinese and the people.
I also had a good time with AJ today. We chatted over chilli chicken and porotta. Both were good.
I need to plan out my time to decide how I am going to manage the rest of my time here and get my goals done. This is vital.
I am now in the stage that Covey pointed out – I am very busy but not very effective. It’s the wrong forest people.
Again. I’m tired. Will not write anything today. Tomorrow..there is always a tomorrow
I finally have my Singapore visa in my hands. I’m all set to leave in a few weeks. I’m now very concerned about finishing up all my goals for this term. Given that I’ll be spending over half my allotted time there, I would need to work extra hard so as to be able to live and do all these tasks.
Will keep you updated my Optical fibers!!
Has been trying to learn flash. Making slow progress.
Is there anything I’d wanna talk about in particular today? I really don’t think so.
I think I’ll rewrite the climax to Laila. The climax is the crux of the story – it needs to be stronger.
Very tired. I think I’ll head off to sleep.
After three days of struggling with it, Laila is done.
I add an excerpt from it incase any of you are interested…
The next day two young men started the work of replastering the walls. Rashid watched them work till late afternoon and after instructing Laila to contain herself to the second floor of the house, he went away to his shop.
Laila was strangely disturbed since the men turned up at her doorstep. Rashid, who would usually leave by midmorning every day, was at the house till way past noon. That meant of course that she could not smoke for the whole time. Her routine thus disturbed, she found herself in a bad temper. The potato salad that she made for lunch was too salty, the plastering was making the whole house dirty and she had no option but to watch them helplessly.
Laila found herself in Rashid’s room as soon as he was outside the door. She had to have her cigarette. And smoke soon. She locked the door.
With her sensual stick in her hands, he heaved heavily for the first puff and lay on her back on his bed feeling the same harmonious sensations passing through her veins like a hot liquid. But she was also terrified – unlike most days she was not alone in her house today.
She was startled by a voice outside the window.
Yes, they were plastering the outside wall today. She had forgotten.
She caught a glimpse of the youth who was working outside her wall. He was perched on a ladder, only the portion beneath his neck visible to Laila, while he applied the white wall putty on the sunshade.
He was not wearing a shirt, his body was the color of wheat, muscular and lean. Laila stood transfixed by this odd apparition at her window – this man who was much younger than Rashid, with a perfection in appearance that came near to the man in the poster.
She chewed her lips. She felt uneasy – felt the stings of a new passion gnarling at her heart. She stood facing the mirror, through a corner of which she could clearly see the young man.
The man was working his way down the ladder. In a moment, he would come face to face to the window and then he would surely see her. She did not stop to think. She unbuttoned the back of her blouse, and stood there – her upper body bared, her youthful breasts drawn in fine parabolas across her chest.
I must have started writing this story some five years ago. I never got around to completing the story then. That was the time when I had just started smoking and was falling in love with both the sensation and the experience. I remember lying down in my dorm bed at night, with all the lights switched off and smoking myself to sleep. In the darkness the glowing tip of my cigarette would gleam, like the eye of a monster. Thus the story of a muslim woman who was contained within her own house, caught in a loveless relationship with her husband. Privately she was very adventurous – albeit a bit too much. I resumed writing the story only now – and this time struggled to get it to completion. The narration is live – more like a screenplay. This makes us completely in the moment, not a passive writing like the Coconut Baron – but a story that unfolds in the course of twenty four hours.
I must have read Khalid Hosseini‘s A thousand Splendid Suns at around this time – that is probably where the idea of a muslim woman comes in and also the name Laila. That was a heart breaking book – beautiful narration and a lovely, heart wrenching story.
Ask me for the story, if you like it – my optical fibers! 🙂