I can see clearly now the…..rain is gone

Most people I meet complain about life. I listen to their whining and agree with them that yes, life is truly awful. I guess people get a kick out of my fake sympathy.

My friends and I have a tradition of arranging boys night outs on weekends. The master plan to save our friendship was to hang out at some place where the air is cloudy with smoke and floors are wet with booze. But that rarely happens. Most of the times we end up on somebody’s rooftop smoking weed and drinking very carefully mixed booze. (Alcohol is shitty expensive in my “Moderate Muslim” country). I am always at the front row of these events whining my ass off about my misfortunes, sufferings and “eye openers” of that week.

But sometimes when I sit back and look at my life I cant help but think what the fuck am I complaining about. I have a wonderful life surrounded by people who love me for no apparent reason. My parents are the most interesting human beings I’ve ever met. I idealize my father in so many ways that you would think he is a Greek god and anybody who knows me on a personal level knows I am a mama’s boy and proud of it . My sister was my mortal enemy growing up but still remains as my closest confidante. Finally I found true love. She came in to my life when I needed her the most. Her unconditional love made me humble. I know it’s a cliché to say that she gave my life a new meaning but…. she did.

Finally I found somebody who can tolerate me for more then 4 weeks.

Beginning

I was 14 when I first saw “Doogie Howser, M.D”. I was hooked. The whole boy genius concept didn’t appeal to me (may be because I used to bully boy geniuses around me at that time) rather the boy’s habit of maintaining a diary in his computer caught my attention. I thought “hey, that’s a nice way to end your day”. So I started typing down every single thing that happened to me everyday. Every thing from what food I ate to how they looked after they traveled through places that no man should ever go.

I mean I was 14. The world is not a scary place. Life is simple and fun. My father’s “Boys don’t cry” philosophy had worked miracles on me. I was an introvert bully (my girl friend thinks I am still so)

It was really difficult for me to start and continue a diary or some other way to express myself. Even though my sensitive side(???) wanted me to do so but waves of adolescent testosterone was overwhelming. “Boys don’t keep diaries either” that’s what I told myself at the beginning.

A functional and productive part of the society….

That’s what everybody wanted from me my whole life. I grew up moving from one school to another until I graduated with 15 schools under my belt. It wasn’t like I was a rebel or something.

My father a career army officer was posted from one end of the country to another. And I went along with the rest of the luggage.

I did my share of hell raising. Getting in to fights, doing drugs the whole nine yards. But eventually I finished my undergrad, found a decent job and now all set to start my masters.

This is my story. How I grew up to be a functional and productive part of the society.