F.R.I.E.N.D.S. October 8, 2008
Posted by muddleheaded in People, Personal Experiences.Tags: Depression, Emotions, Friends, Happiness, Personal
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I can not make anybody to stop what they are saying. I let them say whatever they want to say. I am just here in this world to listen to people and even my own opinion doesn’t matter to me, so how can I insist upon it for somebody else.
How the day starts, what it brings during its course and how it’s going to end? You can never know. And in my case I feel it’s a little more unpredictable. I started the day with zeal and to add in it more, my boss got happy with me for I don’t know what reason. He told me that whatever I was doing, I was working in the very right direction and I should keep it up. Everybody at office takes his this kind of remarks as tremendous praise. So I too felt myself at the height of confidence and self esteem. As a result, I worked all day like a dog and didn’t feel any trace of weariness until pack up. I came back home late and while I was entering my house, at my doorstep, my cell rang and guess what – its like – my dream came true. I got a call from S which I was longing for the past 6 months. We talked a lot about this and that and my emotional level rose from happy to ecstatic. But then he asked me something which was to be the motive of the decline in my emotional level of happiness from contention to depression or even down below later. He didn’t even listen to what I had to say about the matter and picked me out in the middle of myself – blamed me for not being wise, protective and at a giving end – gave me thousands of advices about what is love actually although in the beginning he told me that I was wise enough to need any advices and he was just going to give me some suggestions. In the beginning I wanted to tell him all of it as a friend, to share some bad feelings and later I wanted to tell him because I just wanted to prove myself right, but he wasn’t ready to listen on both occasions. So finally – failed in my objective – I decided to wind up the conversation. It didn’t end well.
Later the conversation kept echoing in my head and I ended up pulling out all the memorable and unmemorable things out of my head and out of my closet. Kept thinking and kept looking at the things – going down and down. I was perturbed too much deep when I got another call from A. I could hardly utter out a meek hello. He got that something is wrong – kept asking me what’s new? and stupid questions like that. May be he was expecting same cheery of myself like I always have been with him but I was not like an entertaining creature at that time at all. So bored because of my attitude he cut off the call. I sent him a simple message containing a question mark. He replied that there was some network error so the call couldn’t go on n bla bla bla… I got the point so I sent, “bored of me?” and the reply was predictable and I don’t like predictability in life.
I inferred two results from it, either both of them are applicable or one of them at least at a time. The first one might be lame for you guys but its true; people who you call and take as friends aren’t friends actually. Second; there are many types of friends. Some of them just for fun purpose, some with whom you have to be friends for the sake of carrying out your daily life tasks and very few of them are for discussing your problems. The later conclusion seems more objective in terms of applicability to the modern world.
The Golfing Gods September 24, 2008
Posted by muddleheaded in People.Tags: Golf, Life, Wealth & Wisdom
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How human beings can be irrational and unruly for their fellow human beings – I realized (once again) when I visited Peshawar last month. I checked in to Peshawar Golf Club early evening and called a couple of friends who live in Peshawar. But they said they would see me later that evening, so I cancelled my plans of unpacking for a while and sat in the chair in the balcony of my room. People or May I call them “gods”, if religion permits me so, were playing golf in the fields in front of me. I just couldn’t help feeling their “godly” presence there. Their attitude made me to think like that. Actually, its not their fault, golf IS very much an elite sports, not meant for ordinary people like me. That’s why I never liked golf but that was my first chance to watch it closely and observe keenly few things other than the technicalities of the game. A few amateurs were standing in a row in the field. Every one of them has two attendants waiting for him; one to give him the new ball and one for holding his extra clubs. It’s not this only. A few attendants were standing at different places in the field as well, just to pick up the balls that the “gods” were throwing there and then to bring those balls again to them so that they can throw them again. I mean three poor souls at the disposal of one guy; for his absurd entertainment? So that he can throw the balls in different directions aimlessly – poor wretches. I don’t like to pity people and I am not a supporter of communism. But hello! This is not fair at all. What big cause is playing golf that three human beings are dedicated for one person? This reminds me of the famous forwarded mail comparing the daily life of two head of states; Pakistan and Iran.
I want nothing but I demand only a little respect for the human lives. Why God has been unfair while dispensing wealth and wisdom among His creatures? Whose fault is this if somebody’s born in a peasant’s house? And why the son of a lord enjoys all which he has never earned? I just don’t get it.
Sporadic Serendipities September 9, 2008
Posted by muddleheaded in People, Personal Experiences.Tags: Depression, Happiness, Instant Messengers, Reconciliation
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Today, unexpectedly too early, I went out to have a walk cum cigarette break right after the aftari. As I was early today so apparently there was no one outside except some occasional crow flapping in the trees beside the street. It was strange for me at least. The place which used to be so crowded and full of life is dull and non-enchanting. There was a family going somewhere and trying to get a taxi. They were too quiet as well when I passed them by. May be the atmosphere affected them as well. Even the wind was not blowing. From the far end of the street was echoing the shrill sound of the Walls Ice-cream songs which seemed like the ballads sung by some cursing sorceress. Trees too seemed weird. All of that was sad in a very strange way. That was enough for my dismay and I cut my walk short – had some quick short puffs and came back home.
I tried to take a nap. While I was on bed two things caught my mind. One; I realized, out of nowhere, that all the girls and guys from Peshawar always use Yahoo as their primary instant messenger; while the most of the rest of Pakistan uses MSN. Our north always stands apart from the rest of the country in many ways – I don’t know why. Two; I realized that it’s been a while I had one of my phases of swinging moods. It took a while to remember; when was the last time I had been a victim of depression. Depression or I must say a lull period because I don’t like to be called depressed. It is certainly not depression. It’s just that I don’t feel like talking to somebody or even doing anything. But one thing is for sure, I am damn explicit in every form of art during that time. A river flows like a river should flow – unguided. But only a barrage can hold it for sometime until it gains enough potential to propel the blades of a hydro-electric plant. I am a river and I need a barrage.
I had already made a last note on today’s post but some events compelled me to write a little more and made the previously last note, the second last note. So here I am, back with the tick tick of the keyboard (I love it). I just came back from a reconciliatory meeting (courtesy of my friend F) with a newly made friend who became un-friended with me, due to stupid circumstances or because of my arrogance, a couple of months back. It went quite well. I know people don’t like to cut a sorry figure in front of anyone but frankly I like to make apologies to people. I like to make them happy. For if they are happy I am happy. And I guess I like to make people sad too. For if they are sad I am sad and I like to be sad. All in all, today – a good day became better for me as the night approached.
An Eve at a Restuarant August 1, 2008
Posted by muddleheaded in People.Tags: Face Reading
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I was sitting in a small restaurant yesterday. I wasn’t supposed to be there at that time of the day or that day at all and that too alone. But I had to kill time till my friend reaches and then we would be going for shopping. So I had nothing to do but to wait for him and empty mind always has some innovative ideas. Added to the situation is the presence of one of the spells that I’m used to have. In that I’m usually numb and non-responsive to the rest of the world but in fact that’s the time when I am feeling the most of everything, feeling the things which I should feel and the things which I should not be caring at all. So out of nowhere I started reading the faces of people around me, some sitting savoring or waiting for the ordered eatables or even haven’t yet ordered and some of them coming in and going out of the open door.
So I looked around for the most interesting face available there as the starter and I found the waiter, the guy whom I know for three or may be four years. But it was the first time that I was noticing how happy he was. It was the first time I saw the bright smile he had always been bearing and in his eyes there is nothing but satisfaction, truth and purity. I mean I couldn’t believe it. How I can be so shallow in perceiving him and how he can be so happy with the kind of living he is earning. Then as any ordinary person would do, I stated that “he is just doing his job and his smile is fake, just to satisfy his customers”. But is it customer satisfaction at all important in a restaurant like that? He seemed amazing in the whole world to me. I was yet contemplating over it and there entered the second character of the play. The guy was sitting on the table next to me towards left. He was wearing white cotton Kurta which was overdone with the starch thing and having a Tilay Walee Chapal on his feet. In front of him was placed neatly a most recent model cell phone, keys to the car, his cigarette case and a branded sun glasses. He seemed to be a well off businessman who was accompanied by a relatively sheepish guy who seemed ready to please him in any possible way he could. I had concluded until now that this guy is a lucky, successful and happy person if not the happiest person on earth. But my thoughts were marred by my most recent experience, so I was looking for something deeper and I did find it. He had the most panicky expressions on his well shaved face. Every line on his face told the story of tension, depression and anxiety. There were so much there that I can’t even name all of them. But the most chaotic were his eyes, narrow, dark and bulging eyes. I simply lost in the complexities and I found ten thousand expressions but sadly all of them negative. So in the end I made an abstract that he is the present day man living for the world around him. My conclusion drifted my thought back to where I was and I tried to find someone else. The first person I stuck my eyes upon was a man of age 45 years or above. I saw him entering the door and I was looking at his face and I felt some disturbing and kind of embarrassed expression on his face. I was a little bit of startled. As he moved towards a table my focus shifted to the line of women(must be his wife and daughters) following him in the restaurant and I immediately came to know why he was feeling uncomfortable of me staring at him. So I left him on his own and checked for the time. My friend was about to reach at the decided place and by this time I should have been out of the restaurant but I decided contrarily and glued to my seat. I was enjoying being there. I thought of borrowing a paper and pen from the waiter so that I can write what I am writing now but I felt embarrassed(I don’t know why) to ask him and then even sit there writing this stuff. So finally I got up thinking that I would fabricate the rest of story after this point. But now while writing this I don’t want to be a liar in the name of fiction. So ending this one with no conclusion at all… why we all look for a conclusion for every written piece? Not this time this time at least.
