Linkin Park, never the same again.

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Ok. So I have given up listening to songs. Why? Another time, another post. But right now, I want to vent out.

I had some down times in my late teens. Everything was chaotic because everyone was in college and I was idle at home doing nothing. I was dead bored and dead angry. Although my family abhorred music, I jumped full fledge into the music industry. Into the world of songs and tunes. The music helped the time go fast and my NEED FOR SPEED cars sped even faster.

I was a big fan of Linkin Park. My brother introduced me to Numb and it was my ringtone for three years straight. It was amazing to hear the bare voice of Chester Bennington.

My favourite ones of their list were Numb, In the End, Crawling, New Divide, From the Inside and Iridescent. They healed me somehow. I was hung to them.

Yesterday, when I read about Chester Bennington, I really went numb for a moment. No matter how many times we know that death can come to any one and at any age, still the heart refuses to register the deaths of young people. Chester was 41. That isn’t old age. But he is dead. He died with a piece of everyone’s heart who loved his songs…..

 

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Tunes of destruction….

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I avoid listening to songs.

Since my childhood, my father has insisted on keeping us away from music and films, read bollywood. He gave religious reasons for this. Naturally, teenage is an exploratory age. I ventured on the other side. I listened to songs on my friends mp3 players and walkmans. Sara, Sumaiya, Safia and Shabnam, they must have hated me. I always took away their gadgets to hear songs whenever they brought them to school. Later I realised I should have my own. Saved up my pocket money and got a Geepas silver Walkman. Got my own headphones. I was even bold enough to tell my dad that I was listening to hip hop songs.
First I hit the english songs. They didn’t mean much to me. Just good tunes that help speed up my car while racing on the pc. They also helped the summer mornings. Radio 101.2 FM Bahrain. I even wrote a poem for the DJ !!!!!

Somehow, I crossed the threshold and fell on the other side. The side of the Hindi songs….. hindi songs built my world, and then, just like that, destroyed it.

I was a book reader. I still am. I love mysteries and thriller novels always caressed my heart. And somehow, when I couldn’t get my hands on them, I came across Romance novels. I shouldn’t have.

Romantic novels and hindi songs are a very deadly combination for a poet and wanderer like me.

See I am not a single layered person. I am A freaking deep ocean, that has layers and layers of depth. My soul is a jungle. So much of it is unexplored. I find a new side of me each day. And I don’t know if it has something to do with my gender or genes or I really don’t know what, but I yearn to be understood. All of my layers, I want to be understood.

Beech bhawar mein daale na
Aar rahi na paar gayi
Kuch ishq ki mauje le doobi
Kuch hijr ki andhi mar gayi

Tum jaane nahi ye dard mera
Ya jaan ke bhi anjaane ho
Tum jaane nahi ye dard mera
Ya jaan ke bhi anjaane ho

Ik pal yeh lage apne ho tum
Ik pal yeh lage begane ho

Everyone I knew was in love. I wasn’t. So I just stuck to songs. Sad songs. Of loneliness and betrayal. All my friends spread across the globe. They had a hand ahead in life. Somehow, I felt left behind. Way behind. There was not much I could do. I used to escape in the virtual world. Of poetry, racing and novels…and songs.

 

It took the voice of Adnan Sami, KK and Atif Aslam, to create that imaginary world in my head.

Meri neendo ki…khwabon ki…hai kasam…tu aaja…

And all of the Emraan Hashmi songs.

I despise them now. Because it is a lie. These are just fancy words of a lyricist, sung by someone with a gifted voice, musicians and better looking actor and actress. They don’t mean a freaking thing. It was all in my head. And it all shattered.

Woh lamhein…woh baatein

Koi na jaaney

ki kaisi raatein

ohh barsaatein

woh bheegi bheegi yaadein

You know, this is what I used to do. I had songs playing on my laptop or my walkman, I would be doing Accountancy balance sheet and stuff. And then some lines would tug at the threads of my heart. I would pen them down in a corner.

That stage of my life. I wish I could go back. And undo it. That stage of my life dug deep into my soul. Left a lot of places empty. Wandering hearts make great poetry. I wrote. A lot. I penned a lot of poems. To me they were filled with feelings.

Do pal rukaa..khwabon ka karwa…

Aur phir chal diye..tum kaha hum kahan…

I am trying to reminiscence now. It is disturbing me. I am unable to fight my emotions. I lost my internal war. Reality hits a person so hard. It hit me. Really very hard.

One fine day it all fell apart. Me. My dreams. My romantic thoughts. My ideas of ideal-ness.

Har khataaa…. ki hoti hai..

koi na koi saza..

ghum likhey ho khismat mei…

to bann hi jaati wajah…. 

I watched as everything shattered around me. Then I took a deep breath. Picked up and fought for what I wanted. Tried to fix everything back to how it was.

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A mirror reflects clarity. When it breaks. You can try to fix it. But it is going to have its cracks. In my words : Mei tootey cheezon ko phekney ki qayil nahi hu. I fix things and continue.

But do you know? Things look much clearer now. Much clearer than when things were all well. I learnt. I fail at times. But I finally learnt to put my mind before my heart.

One fine night, amidst thunder and rain and darkness, amidst candle light and loneliness, I buried. I buried a part of me. I crushed that thirsty, wandering part of my soul beneath my feet. I crushed it with my knees. I let the light die. I watched it die. God knows my eyes swelled like balloons that night. But it was all worth it.

I am married in a house where songs are played often. Each tune that I used to hear in the past held different memories. Some of love, some of nostalgia and some of hate. When the new songs get played, they don’t mess with my heart anymore. A big high five to my brain for killing that part of my heart that used to do that, that used to mush me up. Even if the tune is way more romantic, loving or endearing. Nothing can mess with my heart.

Except. The old songs. Like today. I came down from the terrace and walked into my house, a food plate in my hand for feeding the kids. There was a song running on the tv.

hai kyu tadapp ..yeh kaisi saza

tu kyu mujhey aaj yaad agayaa.

teraaaaa…meraaa rishtaa…puranaaaa…

This song brought back all that. That flashback. It hits me everytime an old song comes along…Don’t mistake me for being hard hearted. I am not hard hearted. It is just that I have begun to take things at face value. No need to delve deep. No need to accelerate things. No need to mess.

I fell from each mountain that I climbed. But I got right back up and climbed another again. All thanks to God. I left behind the world of songs. Long Ago…A very long Ago….

Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao

Dil Badal Bane Aankhein Behne Lagi
Aahein Aise Uthein Jaise Aandhi Chalein
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao

Gum Le Ja Tere, Jo Bhi Tune Diye
Ya Phir Mujhko Bata, Inko Kaise Sahein
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao

Abb To Iss Manjar Se, Mujhko Chale Jana Hai
Jin Raahon Pe Mera Yaar Hai
Unn Raahon Ko Mujhse Paana Hai
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Sataao
Toh Phir Aao Mujhko Rulaao

No. Never again. Learnt my lesson the hardest way possible. Never going back to that part of the world. That part that lifts you to an imaginary world, and when you reach the summit, it kicks you real hard. You fall, face first down to the low mud, broken, defeated.
I will never give power to negativity, destruction or villains in my life. Never. Songs. Never. Anyone else play it. They won’t tear me up again. They have dried up the oceans of my tears.
Maybe dad shouldn’t have let me have my will. Or maybe on one of our trips, told me about falling prey to imaginary feelings that ruin happiness and peace. Maybe someday I shall sit with my kids in their teens and try to tell them about this facade-filled world. Where everything good is virtual and everything harsh is real.
Never. Songs, Never…….
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Home…….

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What is a home? Where is a home?……

I was just scrolling through facebook, mindlessly. That is when I came across a very nostalgic video. It just broke the dam that was holding my emotional tears safely.

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey…..

I miss home. That’s what it is supposed to mean. The first thing that flashed in front of my eyes, was my parental homes of Saudi. To me those homes are the closest meaning to home. We lived in different apartments. We changed a total of 5 houses. Each have their own nostalgic memories. Out of them one had my whole childhood.

Kehta hai roz mann mujhey…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey….

I miss that house the most. To me that was the most memorable home of my whole life. I went to school from that house. I learnt to read, write, use a computer, cycle, skate (yes I cycled and skated in KSA right through my teenage), rode buggies, jumped in the mud pools at school, made sand castles by the beach, flew kites at cornich, collected sea shells and hail stones, ran through the rain, enjoyed swinging away into the nights, counted the stars by lying on a mat….and so many more memories that I cannot even count.

Woh garmiyo ki raat…

Woh jaadey ki baat….

I miss those full blast a/c mornings. So comfy in the bed. Heck, me and bro sat playing Need For Speed on chairs wearing our blankets like huge coats.

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The winters? The cold washroom seats…the orange heater light that never flickered. I used to wear a grey sweater, then my dad’s blue jacket that had a brown fur lining inside. I sat infront of the white rotating heater.

I miss those car rides. Those long family drives along the coast with the windows scrolled down, the wind blowing in, ruffling the fabric of my niqaab. And the drives with just me and dad, simple peaceful trips to the clinic or to the exam halls or for those accounts classes.

Sabh sataata hai mujhey…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey….

I gave it up. Me. I gave it up. In the name of Love. I gave up everything. Left behind everyone I loved and who I knew would love me back and be there always.

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Chaah kar bhi waqt wapis mod nahi saktey.

Chah kar bhi waha nahi jaa saktey.

Chah kar bhi woh yaadein phirsei nahi jeesaktey.

Chah kar bhi laut nahi saktey waha….

I miss my brown blanket with white dots and brown flowers, and DIANA written in white on one corner.

Jin dino mei raha…

barso tak….

ek hissa unmei mera bhi tha….

phir waha rehna hai mujhey…..

ghar yaad aata hai mujhey…..

Even though I want to, I can’t turn back time. Can’t go back to that age, to that place, to those people, to my people. Home.

But according to the place I come from, a girl’s home isn’t her parents home. Her home is where she is married of to. Really? Wrong people. Wrong. There is no home in this world at all. Atleast that’s what I think.

What is a home? A place where you come to find peace and belonging…apnaapan. Maybe I can never find this feeling ever. I left my parental house to find my home in LOVE. I found a house. With people in it. But I didn’t find home….No I didn’t. I didn’t find a home.

Home was not with my parents. It is not in my spouse. It is not even in my kids. Where is my home?

Maulaaaaa…….

Mujhko bata mera dar hai kaha maula…

Jogi bada mei…phirta rawa kinna…

I am so well aware, that peace, love or belonging is never found in a person or place. It is found in the self. Maybe some day I may look at this blog post and laugh. Or maybe would nod my head and continue to cry. Maybe, just maybe I want to find a place called home. Because I learnt home can’t be a person. No not at all. It has to be a place.

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Bhatkna padega..

Pata nahi kabh thak…

Tabh thak ghar dhoondna hai..

Aur jabh thak…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey……

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Pw9v5XnMsg  : Link to the video I came across on facebook)

Note: Non-italic lines are my own.