Wednesday, September 28, 2011

9/28: Word Vomit

Today I felt really hurt and angry, not at this country at all, but just at myself.
I went to an interview and like a fool went on a whim because of a connection. The foolish part wasn't the help given to me to find this internship, but the fact I didn't do any research. It was for a financial firm, and the interviewer himself had no idea why I would want to do it. I didn't either...though I am interested in learning about Bangladesh's financial market. Ugh. And my Bangla, I made the mistake of say "tumi" rather than "apne", which to non Bangla speakers, the former is intimate and the latter is formal. The boss man took one look at me and I just felt like a prisoner. It wasn't him, it was me.
I graduated, and felt useless, I went home, and felt more useless, and I'm here and not am I useless, but illiterate and physically frail here.
Ah, I'm not disheartened, I want to be here, I want to suffer and get through it. I want to say I was able to go through it, but dear, I just don't know my direction right now, or where or what I want to do with my life, it's confusing. Every non brown person tells me this is normal, every Bangali basically looks at me and wonders why I'm not working. It's no one's fault, it's mine. Please if you're reading this and thinking I bear ill will, it's not that. I'm just confused I guess.
I came home so angry, embracing the anger like an old friend. Bitterness has been a daily ritual in my cup it seems since the summer and it's only been brewing more and more. It takes me a while to get angry, not because I'm not sensitive (the opposite), it just doesn't kick in until afterwards.
I got accused of calling someone something yesterday publicly and it stung, because I've given that person no ill will. I thought I did everything pleasant, did everything genuine, but somehow struck the wrong chord. What I wrote that was interpreted differently...what was the truth on my end was unread to another's vision. For that I am sorry, but upset too. Just like my anger today, it just creeps and creeps that much later, a day in this end, or a two in that end, just makes me bitter and upset.
Again, this isn't blaming anyone, it's just be word vomiting. In the end, this, like my other anxiety laden posts, are just canon fodder to better thoughts. Misconstrue it to what you will, I think I'm just sensitive to things.
Everyone my age seems to be thinking no one pays attention to them, then they end up paying attention to themselves, then their friends start from the beginning of that cycle. No matter how much their friends try to give those people attention it doesn't work, they need something on for themselves, to really enjoy it, or get some passion out of something, you're not a bad friend, nor are they, but transitions are tough, and if you realize you are learning to love yourself, it's a beautiful natural thing. Please continue to do so, and eventually we'll learn to love again other things that show a better world view as adults hopefully.
Much love and peace be upon you.

Seeing and Looking

I'm really good at seeing and thinking
It makes me blend into a different world colored by imagination, but it ends up making me forget my direction
Here in Bangladesh, I've been trying desperately in trying to see and look. Rather than looking at the myriad of people and thinking about her, I've been trying to see the rickshaw drivers and the people around me, trying to remember something of the sights around me. Hopefully that way nostalgic memory won't drive me to recognize places (which would take me forever, if you know me, it takes a while for me to get somewhere without being lost) and it will be because I've seen and looked at these sights before.
Today I walked from a potential internship office back to my Grandma's place alone for the first time. It was what I was looking forward to...sadly, my cousin actually waited for me and I apparently passed and left without him.

Monday, September 26, 2011


I'm at choto kala's house (my mother's younger sister), hence why I have internet access.
Blah all I've been doing is reading and writing, playing guitar, and trying to read the Quran in English. Ah, the Quran is just so dense! It takes so much more reading one page than it does of several of Rumi's long ended poems. I'm on Surah Al-Hud right now I believe. I should read it now after I get off shouldn't I...

I read a lot of Rumi, thank you Devin for lending it to me...though now it seems like I have no way of giving it back being so far away...I'll try if I can. Rumi's poems are so fascinating, the feeling you get my reading them is more palpable then perhaps the lyrical content themselves. Like his poem "I have five things to say", it feels like he delivers each line with punch drunk love. Though I'd say he sounds drunkenly clear in most of his poetry. Ironic considering how much he uses religious symbolism. I wish I understood the culture at the time a bit more to understand the significance of some of his phrases. Either way, it's good inspiration for the sober minded though, at least we can feel his emotions and use it up at every cup (he loves to drink in feelings in his word use).

Ah, time to figure out this whole volunteer thing, it seems like I need to find the number of someone and call him, ah using a phone in Bangladesh for some reason seems scary! It shouldn't be, just like when I'm sick, I need to just say, "GO DO IT", and get through these tiny things.


I woke up at 6 am, so early...
I did 25 finger push ups, I then just read and hung out with mom, then did 25 clap push ups and I don't know how many more I did by the end of the night...out of boredom.
I saw Anika and Audwit today, and had a good walk with Dhrubo at night. It was nice, I'm looking forward to emailing my pen pal or pals depending on how many emailed. Still have to text dad's contacts (update I have since then)
I apparently didn't delete all my pics on my camera before BD. I have a photo of a certain person stuck in my mind when I was on my way to Bender Arena for graduate. She was so very kind then...people change I guess, or at least towards each other... I'm done with this God, I'm sure there's a reason that this hurts, it needs to. Everything should always hurt to feel it.
La Illaha Illalahu, Muhammardur Rassoolilah


10 58 pm, Dhaka, Bangladesh: more specifically; Kathalbagan at Grandma's
5 hours and half naps later, I'm here. This time, being here in Bangladesh doesn't feel like a dream, just a happening, like as if I walked out of my house in NJ and walked into the neighborhood of Kathalbagan, thousands of miles away.
When I think slightly about how long I'll be staying here, I get a little homesick. But this is my own voilition. I want to get used to doing what I want, for my own betterment .
It's cleaner here than before, less mosquitos certainly, but it's more empty as well. My grandma seems alone, and often is stuck in nostalgia. My mother and aunt thinks she's suffering from memory loss, but it only feels natural. My grandma has done so much in a third world patriarchal society; bought her own land, her own job, was the center of the family. Now she seems like all she has done is meaningless in the sight of her material end, and seems resigned to it, I don't think in a depressing way, but not in a certain way either.


I'm leaving today at JFK. My mother is with me. When you're blind, everything blends with colors, and you're imagination blends with reality. I think that's a bad thing in this case, because reality has it's own beauty in the strength of its current accuracy and of our ability to comprehend it. Though here I am, writing, without my glasses on, writing what I'm thinking about, but not what I see.
I see blindly stewardesses with red caps with white gashes on,laced to the side, but, they are all look the same without glasses, just images of dolls


Love! You have cut me down with your locks of tresses
In pieces you chew upon my heart until the juices run down upon each of your summer dresses
I have resided now to becoming the sweet to your tea, you cast me in boiling fire to just disappear into your simplest desire
Darling, you drink me down completely. Down! Down! I go down so meekly
Never tell me again that I wasn't prepared for the end!
To the very molecule, I gave you my everything to rend

Feel the Tremor: The Spoils of War

Feel the Tremor of your aching heart
It is God telling you he is inside
In deeds of righteousness does He reside
Simply embrace His Grace and Start

Pretend that I am not here

Pretend that I am not here
And that it is the wind that places a cold hand upon your face, brushing against your lips
Pretend that I am not here
And that is the crackling fire amidst the biting frost that warms you in soft, feverish embrace
Let the rains of April give you an excuse to shiver in sheer bliss, quaking at every reverberation of gentle reveration
Let June's grace and chilled honeyed milk mask the sweet, sweet taste of my...
Shh, pretend that I am not here

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


Where is the self towards soulful emotion?
Is it striving so diligently towards absolute devotion?
Or simply to love, to life, to lustful erosion?
Forgetting to look beyond, feeling consistent corporeal corrosion

My life, Thy faith, Why God?
We compare and contrast and we rob
Ourselves of all spiritual beauty, for it is the meaningless things for which we sob
They are for so little, so small, yet it is misery we spare and mercy we give the rod

In Surah Yusuf, the Prophet peace be upon him was so pure,
Even beyond that which he pined for in a sensual lure
He remembered the Divine in things, for that his Faith was truer
And embraced it, in a life that can be compared to much fewer

Where am I towards my own pollution?
I strive, oh I strive for celestial Absolution!
How do I love beyond life, beyond physical temptation
Oh Lord, Oh Lord! Save me from Hell Fire Damnation!

Oh Lord, oh Lord, make me not deaf, dumb and blind
I want to, on Judgement Day, I want my face to shine

If pre sleep ruminations

If pre sleep ruminations had the power to make memories into real life illuminations,
Old love would never be forgotten, to die away and be left for rotten
If the candlelight left melted not wax, if gentle kisses did Time not Tax
I would always, always, feel your gaze
Here's to you dearest dark
Saved deep, in my previous ark
Through the shadows of the night
By the spark of Dawn's First sight
Verily is man lost without the light
To remember patience, not Pilgrim's plight

Perhaps to where the bells doth toll

Perhaps to where the bells doth toll
I will struggle to arrive by my evening stroll
Perhaps to where the moon does rise
Will I forget in the midsts where my heart doth lie

A sling shot of pale light in the evening air
Subtle, subtle, like my maiden fair
Pierce through the barrier of my chest
Like adrenaline poison, warms feverish my breast

Perhaps if I button my coat
Perhaps if I walk where it rains
Winter will come and I will find better His Rope
to take me away from the shame, to take me away from the pain

Club sphere

There is perception in the deception that here in this room we are in sheer unreality
That this surreal feeling is serenity due to our lack of sobriety
I am a fly on the wall that seems not to understand the others in the way they are buzzed
But here I will die if I refuse to fly into the den of dark discreet aromatic beat blowing night transcending air to soar with no care and do what I do not dare.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Either way

Delicious strings
Delicate ice cream
Break upon my nervous touch

Subtle romance
Secret chocolate
Sweet upon your smiling lips

Tethered hearts
Tolling rain drops
Calmed by each and every boiling cup

Tonight let's get married
Ten weeks later let's fall in love
Happiness of course either way

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Bye, bye

Where does your mind go, farther and farther to where memories tow?
Perhaps it is only certain that stones are only set where the wind doth blow
To weigh down flowers so that they may grow
Here is the weather, rain set down low, peper news boats set down slow
Did the water take your heart, so that together as one you flow?
Did the rain clean the part that felt besotted with woe?
Feel free, see me, feel free, leave me
No matter how you'll spend the night
Dear, you will never, ever miss the Light
Feel ease, touch the breeze, kiss the seas, take the keys
and sail far, far, away

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Freedom, a haiku

Love the erratic
Fleeting stiffness nomadic
Summer ecstatic

What makes a human

Beyond every dream there lies in my mind
Things way past the time, dwelt in sweet subtle supine
Something joyous, something dear, often boisterous, often fear
That fills my pool with a waterfall made of sullen salty tear

Past the darkest of my face lies a fickle bitter taste
Of blood spilled in haste, dripping droplets of gorgeous waste
Losing every bitter, losing every shake, through the very wither, through the very innate
There it flows down its channeled path, Dead Sea Red that never inflates

Farther than the whimsical notion that floats before my eyes
Of mercurial bliss, of sweet family ties
Just a bit pleasant, just a bit meaningful, maybe a little present, maybe a little teeming full
Of tiny pebbles that seem to rebel to let the waves of life take there coarse in the humming ocean's lull

Thoughts 9/13

What are thoughts on my mind,
They are thoughts of the Divine
Something pleasant, something present
That lifts me up, river deep in every cup

Monday, September 12, 2011

Learning to forget

Fruit platter breakfast in bed
As poisonous as the after effects of lead
As lonesome as driving in New Jersey summer nights
Begone my phantoms, to forgotten roads set right

It's so hard isn't it, forgetting someone you have loved for what seemed to be the zenith of your life. My own relationship lasted about 6 months, and as short as that is in retrospect to many of you who have had relationships for over a year, for me it was more than I have had in the past. I come from a way of having the most difficulty of transitions. Simply moving from one spot of my life, as easy as moving from a cafe to home, just takes me a while. I think it's the comfort. I've never held onto relationships for long because I never felt comfortable with the change.

This time I didn't want to do that. Wonder (I'll name her that because I don't want to name her nor give her affectionate names I actually had) was different because it was actually a risk dating her. She was my resident, which had always been a resounding NO for me, I wasn't a Resident Assistant for the free housing, I really enjoyed my job and bringing out a community, so when I realized I liked her I was very, very hesitant. It didn't help that one of my residents, who I cared for a lot, had a huge crush on her. I didn't want to lose him and the respect of my floor. So I didn't do anything for a bit.

So why did I date her? I realized that I'm attracted to women for their kindness. I enjoyed watching her help her friends and floor mates out selflessly, I enjoyed that she actually cared about things. She went to my events and actually enjoyed them. Next, she was one of the few comforting aspects of my life. I ran around as Muslim Student Association President (which at the time just finished catering for 40_ people a day for 16 days straight and was on to the next thing, fundraising with the Iraqi Ambassador), Resident Assistant (baked for them for a majority of the weeks in the beginning of year and planned other events such as boating or Embassy Trick or Treating) and an SIS Mentor (which meant I was meaning with about 12 kids, providing advice, and working with my other roles to make sandwiches for the Homeless), and graduating a year early (which ironically was the least of my stresses, perhaps that's a bad thing). Coming home every night to my floor was my relaxation, and she was at the center of it all. I don't know, when you have someone like that, it's sorta hard to not realize it, although denying it initially was easy enough.

How did it happen, haha I notice that I'm writing this for myself so at least that's therapeutic, doubting that anyone will read this.

We used to go to sleep at the same time, which was whenever it the break of dawn to see who would sleep first. Eventually I would say I had to do hw and ask her if she wanted to do hw with me in my room. She said yes, but then she would promptly fall asleep. Haha, I wonder if she realized how confusing that was for me. I never touched her, I couldn't, still an RA, though I did stroke her hair once. She probably didn't think of it as any different, I am affectionate at least in hugs with other residents, though probably not like that.

So there I was in a pickle, not sure what to do at all and I don't remember the order but I called my best friend Andrew. He goes to school in upstate New York, and he gave me the best advice, "Tanim, just do what you want, not want others expect of you" or something of that sort. So I went with her to Capitol South, the first time I've really been, to see...well the Capitol, yes I never went before my Senior year. And then the night before she left, I kissed her.

The first kiss, when you're a guy who isn't a stud, towards a girl who you know might like you but you're not sure...that was the hardest part..

Anyway that was the beginning, the hardest part realizing 6 months later is that you have had good days and then remembering the current.

Fruit platter...she got me breakfast in bed on my birthday at a damn hotel next to my work. I don't think anyone's been that kind. But here I am now...finally realizing that she pulled off actual bitchiness (I had nothing but pleasant thoughts about her till recently), it feels like that food has been scratching at my throat. So here I am, driving in Jersey, and now I need to find the right road.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


What Are thoughts in my mind
Perhaps they are thoughts that grace thine?
Lovely meadows, golden pine
Just kidding, we're both thinking about time

The clockwork striking of every given moment
The empty rests between smiles and words sent
My dear, my dear, your ruminations are well spent
Enjoy the direction affection has for you bent

Consonant Dissonance

What is fine cheese? Hell if I know, I grew eating South Asian Cuisine, good cheese fortunately in ways eludes me.
But ideally, it just looks like corpulent decay. It's full of delicious mold that's going...somewhere, in our body or just to mold a bit further.

I grew up and have been living white collar, corpulent cheese, and graduated from American a few months ago.
It seems weird to think about seasons in terms of seasons and not semesters, to live by a proper day light hour rather than ration myself in blocks.
So here I am, in NJ, well designed by my parents, and if I don't find a purpose, I'll be molding as well. Or that's the notion isn't it?
I don't know.