Thursday, July 27, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Its damn hot. When would Europeans get used to the idea of global warming and install ACs? Cooling ACs, and not the fan operating ones.
Even my chocolate is melting.
allah yer7omich ya lebnan... wiraji3 ayyamich. sij enni mare7t ella marrah wa7da but it was the best.
chan al7een ana ga3da 3ala jabal lebnan el 3ali eli ahlo ye3eesho fi dalali ma3a moza oo khathra bidal el fi6ees eli ga3da feeh.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
“Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam" playing in the background...
Indian incense burning in the car's ashtray
I and mere zindagee are resting in my dad's Chevy watching the stars on a cool October night over looking AlBidi'e beach.
He was so dark and skinny when dad brought him from the airport. "This is Rajkumar" my dad introduced him to me. He was our new driver. His wife had just passed away before he decided to come to
Rajkumar came mainly to drive my dad to some distant areas my dad had to go to for business. There were days when I faked being sick just to let Rajkumar drive me to school. I was a senior at colleague and all my friends enjoyed driving their own luxurious cars, when I only cared for being with Rajkumar. I didn't know what I felt, but something deep inside made me want to be with him. The sorrow in his eyes? His tall slim dark figure? I didn't know.
Two years after my graduation and I still went out with Raj. He even drove me to the nearest co-op anywhere close or far; I just wanted to be with him. He was then a fuller man, less tanned, and smelled like my dad's after shave.
"You love him being around because your dad isn't around enough" my friend blurted out once. "He does what you command him to do. He's always there when in need. You are living a fantasy dear. Wake up; you can't be in love with your driver."
My friend's so called "reality shocks" hurt me but I couldn't care less. The joy of being with Raj was the reason I kept living. I had no sisters or brothers, and my mom was a social worker who helped people from the entire country, but forgot the one who needed her most; deeply captivated by lust for her driver.
"I can't touch you, mere dill, only 8 years till I gather enough money from your dad then we can go to Delhi and get married the traditional Indian way you dream of"
"Just like the indian movies? With all the flowers and music?"
"Yes, my dear, I will honor and cherish you"
"I will ride an elephant, run on the highest mountains"
"I will let my sister teach you how to dance"
"Kama sutra?" I thought to myself. "Remember that I don't like the smell of henna"
"Don't worry, our henna is original unlike the one you have here. You'd love it's smell. I will never let you cut this beautiful hair of yours. You will be able to wear sari without anyone gazing although I doubt that. You are so beautiful honey and you're great Indian grandmother's features are so obvious. I bet no one will know you're Kuwaiti there."
Raj plays "Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam" again with his curry scented fingers. My mobile interrupts the scene, It's "di3la" my friend who reminded me that it's near Fajir and my dad might wonder where his car is on his way out to the mosque. Raj drives me back home and I quietly sneak in to my room. I sleep for two hours dreaming of a lovely morning and a long nice ride with Raj to work.
Monday, July 10, 2006
حبيت واحد بس ما حبني
حبيت واحد بس ما درى عني
حبيت واحد بس ما يازله شكلي
حبيت واحد بس ماعجبه اسمي ولا رصيدي
حبني واحد بس ماترس عيني
حبني واحد بس تشرط علي
حبني واحد من غيرته خنقني
حبني واحد بس أمه ارفضتني
حبينا بعض بس انظلونا وافترقنا
حبينا بعض بس أهلنا ما رضوا عنا
حبينا بعض بس دمنا ما طبق
حبينا بعض بس الموت أخذه في ليلة عرسي
تزوجت واحد بس اخذ غيري
تزوجت واحد بس خاني في ليلة عرسي
تزوجت واحد بس طلع زطي
تزوجت واحد يحب الحداق أكثر مني
تطلقت من واحد لأنه وسواسي
تطلقت من واحد لأنه عافني
تطلقت من واحد لأنه ريحته ماعجبتني
تطلقت من واحد لأنه بيده طقني وبريله رفسني
يا ناس يا عالم ويش أسوي
الناس مو راضيه تهدني بروحي
مو عاجبهم لا عزوبييتي ولا حبي
لا زواجي ولا طلاقي
ياناس خلوني أعيش بريحاتي
تري فيزتي جاهزه
باكر أطقها سفره
وما تشوفون رقعة وجهي أبد في ديرتي
On a lighter note, enjoy this menage-a-trois
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Do we have to want something from life?
If one didn’t know what he wanted, does this mean he’s lost?
Does this mean that he needs therapy?
This was an argument I had today with my friend who searched the entire directory looking for a shrink.
Dr. Foziya dree3: is not available.
“Something” clinic: the doctor answered the phone instead of a secretary and when asked for guidance he said that he’s just a counselor and that she can be referred to mustashfa el 6ib el nafsi for drugs.
NLP/mantra (not so sure) at AlRazi clinic: she is on vacation.
Dr. Marwan AlMutawa: the number listed in the paper is the number of a restaurant! So my friend called el baddala who gave her his house telephone number. The housekeeper answered and told her that Marwan no longer has an office!
Dr. “Something” (who deals with Jin): the secretary said “I don’t know I will ask and call you back”.
Why finding a healer/therapist/ or whatever is this hard here?
6abakh visited us at work today. This is the conversation that took place after saying our hellos:
6abakh: enta sawi 3aroos?
6abakh: laish? Ana kilyom wallah sawwi do3a’ 3ashan enta sawi 3aroos.. wallah ana 3ala tool enta fakkar.. Kil yom..
Bas allah mako yisma3.
He then felt guilty for saying such thing about God, licked his fingers and then tweaked his ears; their way for asking for forgiveness.