voices on the bridge.

Nimal looked at her son sleeping peaceful. His  feathery baby breaths felt comforting on her cheek, but the rest of her body felt like it was on fire shards of glass were coursing through her veins. She knew it will be a long long night again. Her PTSD symptoms were back  the same insomnia, the anxiety gnawing at her; butterflies in her stomach. Lots of times she was playing happily with her son but soon she would have a blank look on her face and would no longer be present because being present in her body was painful, checking out was easier.  She took a deep breadth and came out of her room, it was dark in the living room she sat down on her couch and started sobbing at that moment she felt another presence she looked up and saw her sitting on the chair next to the window. "Who are you?" " how did you get in here?"asked Nimal She looked up and said I come here often, I used to live here in 1883 before I died after jumping off the Golden Gate bridge, look how beautiful it looks from this window glistening in the moonlight.

 "You mean you are dead?"" Yes, yes that I am she laughed a raspy dry laugh. Although I died a long time before I jumped off that bridge, some what like you I was an insomniac, anxiety ridden individual after that incident that but no one wanted to listen to my truth so i kept burying it until I could no longer keep it inside, it started to eat me until I was just a walking shell of a woman and than one day that did not seem enough so I committed suicide." "Will you be witness to my truth now Nimal? will you listen to what I have to say"." Yes, I will listen to you tell me your truth," said Nimal.

 Well its a long story but I ll give you the shorter version, see sometimes you just need a friend some one who listens without judgment. Most of my life I had moved every few years I had to move and start over my parents marriage was not the best and with the financial situation always in a rut, life was a struggle and I guess the thing was I had no one who I could share my experiences with because no could really relate and with moving and trying to make new friends every few years, trying to fit in. I got good at it to I was a chameleon I could read people know what they wanted and I knew how to endear my self to people.

 I was in my teens when dad passed away and what little stability we had was gone too, I moved to  San Francisco and took up a job at a factory to help my family it was there that I met him. He was my first love the boy with the golden eyes I still remember him looking at me across the factory floor and I felt as if time stood still everything faded into the distance and for the first time in my life I felt I existed..... we became very good friends mainly because he listened and he was authentic, he was present and he gave me parts of himself just like I gave him parts of me. Parts I had never dared to show others he was the sun in those long gloomy days of back breaking work and loneliness but then he had to leave his family needed him back and he had to go.

It was around that time that the factory owner started showing interest in me, see I skipped a part I did not tell you the factory owner was a very good family friend and he had given me the job as a way to help. They say you don't kick a person when he is down but that is just what he did. He had always known all the family drama he knew how I felt about the boy in the factory I thought he was a kind man who wanted to help me little did I know there was a sick twisted man in that body.

 I had always been the girl who was the friend, every one who needed to talk knew where to find me and have a shoulder to cry on but I was never the girl any one found attractive yes in high school and college I was the girl who had vicious rumor spread about her, that I put out easy and I had fucked a bunch of guys I knew nothing about which was all untrue of course but who cares to check gossip. Its all fun and games who gets hurt no one cared. Anyway I transgress, he started to dock my salaries and naive me thought I could make him see his wrong ways.

 I talked to him asked him to help when that did not work, I become friendlier a little flirty too I guess. I don't know what was I suppose to do, I was all alone nursing a broken heart i had no friends and I felt trapped the only thing I wanted to do was help my mom make ends meet and I guess I was messed up a hundred different ways and he knew it so he used it against me for his own twisted fun.

The first time it happened he came to my house and asked me to make him breakfast I go over that scene so many times, I think about how he timed it so perfectly knew just when to come and I go over it so many times if I had only not let him in, not opened the door but well I did let him in I opened the door. He asked me to make him breakfast so I did and than I left to go outside I walked in the morning cold for a long time hoping he will leave but he did not, So I went back in and there he was sitting he asked me to sit in the chair opposite to his, I did and he took my hand in his and said you have beautiful hands I love the way your skin is so translucent one can see the blue of your veins right through. I had tried to take my hand away but he grabbed it and pushed me up, I tried to twist out of his grasp but he pushed me against the window and kept one pushing me with his body. He kept squeezing my breasts and fondling them I tried to run away again and every time he would grab me and push me harder against the wall or the window and I guess it was at that time that something broke inside of me, I felt I could not run and if I did I might end up in more trouble than I already was I felt as if I was no longer in my body I was floating on top of the scene watching him grabbing me touching me my legs felt like jelly I got wet and I was completely numb I did not understand what was happening to my body and why it was acting this way. I tried once again to get out of his grip and made it to the kitchen and there I took out a knife and threatened him with it. He finally left me alone.
It was not the only time, he still kept coming to my house and doing whatever he could when ever he could. I have asked my self a hundred times why did I let him do it, why did I not stop and you know it was because he knew how to keep me in his web he made me believe it was all my own fault. I was an unlovable human being who was dirty and disgusting and deserved to be treated like a slut and I guess all the things that had led me to that point in my life all the silly rumors I had been the butt of I too believed him I was a nasty girl who deserved what I was getting. You know people sometimes mistake rape to be a crime of passion it is not, it's all about control it all about taking some one humanity, its about power. Cold raw hard as steel power. I started to beg him to marry me I told him I won't ever tell any one anything just please marry me but all he said was I ll make sure you never get pregnant so there is no reason for us to get married.

There is so much he did that just the memories overwhelm me the hand job where he came all over my clothes his insistence to fuck me with his hands and go in so hard that it ended up breaking me till I bled. The physical abuse one can deal with but the constant mental torture is what hurts more, the mind games the entrapments no matter what I did I could not get away from him. He literally flaunted it in my face he could fuck me in front of people and no one could do anything to stop it me nor any one else he d make me sit in his office and hand fuck me, I can still feel his leacherous gaze, his cold clammy hands going into my pants and touching me till I was wet as fuck, uncomfortable horny in pain but he did not care I was just a fuck toy, nothing more than a tissue paper to be used and discarded I could not do anything even a change in expression was enough to enrage him, shut your fucking mouth keep your face straight. I used to feel in limbo my body was feeling pleasure yet pain and the emotional pain I was feeling I wanted to cry and I guess I did silent quiet tears which I was afraid to shed too scared too ashamed too everything and yet there would be people walking outside looking through into the window and no one did anything.

 I had night mares for so many nights I d wake up in a sweat and I d go and shower in cold cold water scrubbing my self till my skin was raw. Some how make the dirt wash off but it never did what was harder was dealing with my own body it seemed some one had opened up a monster inside me I was horny all the time and i did not understand how to get any relief and more than that I hated it. My body became my enemy and  this body these feelings which are meant to give us pleasure and happiness. Desire that is a beautiful wonderful thing became torture for me and the worst thing in my mind was that  I could not control it I could not make my body stop. Of course its biology one cannot make desire stop any more than one can stop hunger or thirst but yet the culture and religions insist that one has all control over all this.

I had tried to reach out to people in that time but it seemed no one really cared and I was hurting so much my body my mind and it felt there was no out. You see that is why people kill them selves when the pain on the inside grows so much bigger than the pain of dying. So one night I walked onto the golden gate bridge it was windy and a light drizzle was falling I climbed up on the side and looked down I was scared for one second but it lasted only for that one second and than I jumped the water felt cold as ice sharp and than I felt nothing I was suffocating deeper and deeper I went thanks to the suitcase I had tied to my legs, I had thought I will find peace in death but there too I was wrong, so i come to this house most nights trying to find my peace, thank you for listening Nimal thank you for hearing my truth. You have helped me to find my peace. 

Be an agent of change.

I am feeling humbled, in awe and overwhelmed all together at the moment. I ll tell you why, this past week I had the privilege to volunteer for two organizations whose work resonates with me.
One is called SFWAR ( San Francisco Women Against Rape) and the other is TCF (The citizens foundation.)
 SFWAR is a community based rape crisis center, They are a women of color led organization a large number of volunteers working with this organization are rape survivors them selves. These facts alone just blow my mind, a few days ago I was having a conversation with a friend of mine and we were talking about the importance of role models, how we women of color do not see a lot of women in places of leadership and how much difference it makes when you do have such role models. When you see women and women of color in places of power and leadership you are able to imagine your self in those shoes and believe that it is a possibility that those positions are not just reserved for white men or just men.
 SFWAR's  work addresses sexual assault in two ways; by providing direct services to sexual assault survivors, their families and friends, and by using community organization and education as tools of prevention, they believe that rape takes place in the larger social context that condones inter-personal and institutional abuses of power and oppression of marginalized groups. SFWAR believes a world without rape is possible only when we challenge the existing paradigms, confronting the root causes of violence and support the development of community derived and driven initiatives the emphasize collective responsibility, healing and transformation.
 TCF is working in the education sector. It was started by 5 Overseas Pakistanis who at the time pooled their resources to build 5 schools in some of the most under-privileged areas of Pakistan. Those 5 schools have now come to be 1441 schools which have a current enrollment of 204,000 children. There is still a lot more to be done as approximately 24 million children are not in school in Pakistan. TCF mission is to remove barriers of class and privileges to make the citizens of Pakistan agents of positive change. TCF has an impressive TCF in a box model whereby all the schools are state of art purpose built campuses. They have a sliding scale fee structure whereby the students enrolled feel empowered and feel they are a part of the organization. All the teachers are female and they are well trained and 50% of the student enrollment is females.
It is a known fact that education is one factor alone that can bring about wide- ranging benefits to society and accelerates social change, it has a positive impact on all parameters, may it be health, enabling individuals to perform better in the workforce and promotion of good citizenship. Education helps to contain violence and with the TCF model where 50% of the students and all the teaching staff are female it ensures women empowerment.
 This week being around highly accomplished and motivated individuals working selflessly to further the causes of education and to end violence I felt encouraged and inspired but at the same time i also felt overwhelmed. I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of the issues these organizations are trying to fight, will we in our lifetimes be able to end the violence against women and against the marginalized groups. Will there be a time when every child will have access to good education regardless of gender and socioeconomic conditions. As I grappled with these questions I felt a sense of dejection, I also felt like an impostor, why was i given all this privilege its all luck of the draw really. I could have just as easily been born in an impoverished family who were unable to provide for me. I think a lot of times the reasons we do not want to think about these bigger issues is because we feel we cannot make any difference and that is a very disempowering and sad feeling. Yes it is also true that in the day to day lives of keeping homes running, kids, spouses, jobs, schools and friends a lot of times we do not have any time left over to spend on any kind of worthy causes so we just shrug our shoulders when we see poverty and we see gender inequality and take it as a sad part of life and keep going.
 This does not have to be the case, yes we may not be able to solve these problems in our lifetime but maybe we can make some difference and as long as the ball keepsrolling and there is positive change there is hope.
 What can we as an individual do you may ask. I would like to invite you to look into these organizations SFWAR, TCF and if their message resonates with you as well, give these organizations your time, give them your money and if nothing else educate your self about these issues and talk about them with your friends and families. If these are not causes you feel passionately about find the causes that move you, whether it is a disease which needs more research on it, whether it is climate change or access to clean water what ever it is get involved in it because social change begins with you, with me with us all. This is a tiny planet that we all share in the bigger scheme of things its just a tiny planet in the midst of this huge galaxy on which we all live, lets find it in our hearts to live in peace and harmony with each other because honestly this is all we have.
http://www.sfwar.org/
support.tcf.org.pk
http://www.tcf.org.pk/ 

A picture.

Mona sat on the bench staring out at the ocean. The waves came rushing towards the shore like race horses come crashing through the gates on race day, the waves roared like spirited animals only to splinter like crystal shards on the jagged rocks. The wind was howling and the rain felt like little barbs on her bare skin as she stood transfixed next to the wall at ocean beach. The rain this year had been relentless and suffering from cabin fever she had taken the opportunity to go for her daily run while the kids were taking their afternoon nap and her husband was home. This scene reminded her of the picture she had seen some months ago at an art gallery on one of her daily "excursions" as she liked to call it, while her baby girl slept in her stroller and she got a much needed break from the incessant house work, crying children, dirty diapers and spilled food cycle. She took a walk and explored some borough of the beautiful city by the bay.
   Mona had recently moved to San Francisco with her family, her husband had gotten a good job there so they had followed the money trail. Settling in a new city was hard, trying to find like minded friends was even harder. Now, when she had decided to be a stay at home mom for her four precocious little children. The twins girl and boy were 8 and went to school, the baby girl was 5 months and than there was the mischievous 3 year old boy who had thankfully started pre-school so now her afternoons were a little free.
   She bought her mind to the present and looked at her watch, her pace was improving soon she would be able to compete in the half marathon she had been training for. She was reminded of that picture in the gallery again, in a funny way she had made a connection with that art, it felt as if the artist was reading her soul when he had painted that scene. The wild untamed desire she sometimes felt inside almost bursting through her just like the waves crashing on the rocks, surprisingly the artists name had stuck with her all these months it was a poetic name "Shehryar". She let the name roll over her tongue saying it again and again like a caress, she felt a little giddy saying it. It almost felt like a school girl crush, was it possible she thought for a married women of four children to feel such desire for some one she had not even met? Pushing her thoughts aside she started to run again her legs pumped faster and faster as the rain pelted down mercilessly.
  She did not know a lot of people at the party save for a couple of friends, who themselves were busy mingling, she was looking outside the window deep in thought when she felt some one watching her, she turned and her eyes locked with his across the room. It felt as if time had stood still and everyone in that room disappeared, it felt as if he could see all the way through to her soul. The affection in his eyes was unmistakable, but who was he she wondered? he started to come towards her and introduced himself," Hello I am Shehryar." She grinned wow could this be for real, "Are you a painter?"" Yes, I am", he replied. "I saw some of your work at the gallery in downtown."She said, "I really connected with the art." Who are you here with" he asked, "my husband" she replied "it is some office party."
   He felt as if some one had thrown cold water all over him. The desire he had felt upon seeing her, the lust she had enlivened quickly got trampled upon. He wanted to see her again but now the conventions of social norms would prevent him from doing so, yet this thought of social protocol, morality and modesty further heightened his desire to get to know her. He would need to be careful and keep his distance he thought.
 "I am Mona, by the way. we recently moved into the bay area."" Oh, really that is wonderful. I live in North beach my workshop is there also, if you would ever like to come see my art here is my card,"Shehryar said as he extended his hand towards her, she took the card and in doing so their hands lightly brushed. She quickly lowered her gaze as she felt a tingling up her arm and felt heat all the way to her face. "It was nice to meet you she said as she quickly turned to leave," hoping against hope that he had not glimpsed her nervous reaction. What had gotten into her she wondered, why did this man have such an affect on her, she was a happily married woman and no one had plucked at her desire quite like this before. She will never see him again and this thought made her happy yet melancholic at the same time.
 A few days later she was walking through the North beach neighborhood when she saw the picture in his gallery it was calligraphy juxtaposed onto the scene from the night of the party, the same colors the same silhouette of people but what were those words she went in to get a closer look they were words for love, the beloved, the lover in oh so many languages she felt shy as if the painting was meant for her and against her better judgment she opened the door and went into the gallery. She saw his profile as he painted another tumultuous scene of the ocean. She looked at his hands which were covered in paint, she liked the look of his hands they were smooth with neat round nails. Hands more like a surgeon than an artist, not the traditional long lanky fingers one associated with artists. She stood there transfixed by his energy as he worked on his canvas. Such an interesting sensation she thought to just feel happiness being in some one's presence.
 He looked up from his work and saw her, a grin broke over his face. "I had a feeling you will show up at my door one of these days. How are you doing? how have your days and night been treating you", he said. She felt a blush come over her face, she looked at him through hooded eyes wondering if he had felt the same desire as she had. Was he too having sleepless nights and felt himself thinking of her at random times during the day like she felt for him. She smiled and replied "they have not been going particularly well I am afraid." He smiled back and said," I am in the same boat as you. Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee, there is a really good coffee place not two blocks from here." "Yes I would love to, I cant stay long though the baby will wake up soon."Mona said.
   They both ordered a cafe au lait and sat sipping it in silence for a while savoring the taste and each others presence. She looked at him and asked," how does it taste," he flung back his head and laughed "pretty similar to yours I am sure,"" no no I want to know how it tastes to you describe it to me."she said.  Well he said looking deep into her eyes, "it tastes warm, comforting yet sensuous on my tongue." His eyes took on a soft languid look as he said these words. "Now you tell me how does it taste to you Mona."
"It tastes like liquid amber, cinnamon sweet and rich. Tell me Shehryar that painting in your window, the one of the office party, who did you have in mind when you painted that." Shehryar looked at her "you dont know Mona," he asked. She giggled;"well I can venture a guess I some times feel you are talking to me that we are connecting even though we are far apart."" I know what you mean,"  he said, "its like there is some deeper connection, some telepathy between us right as if we share some epipheny which only me and you can understand."
 "I am glad you said that Shehryar , I felt maybe it was only my imagination,"Mona said. "This sexual chemistry between us is almost palpable my cherie, how could I not have felt it. From the moment I saw you the first time I felt I had known you and I had to know you Mona". In my case Shehryar it is even more absurd, "I felt desire for you when I saw your painting at an art gallery."" Mona I need to see you, will you come to me." he asked with deep longing.
She looked at him desire coursing through her body like hot liquid lava, she so wanted to say yes but family, convention, morality, society all stood in front of her like sentries on guard. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I want to Shehryar but you know as well as I that it cannot be, this must be our one and final meeting." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, she felt his stubble rub against her soft skin. He took her hand in his and caressed it with his thumb as he leaned in to kiss her neck he smelled jasmine, rose and lillies on her skin all the scents mingled into a lusty animalistic concoction in his mind. I wont ever be able to get this smell off of me he said to her as she rose to leave.