The Pendulum's Charter / Four

(Continuing from the previous section…)

My mind: Listen, Anila, learn to tolerate those who love you!
Me: Yes yes, of course, of course! That's why I only tolerate three people—me, myself, and I!
(The conversation ended.)
Build more strength within yourself. By force if necessary, whatever it takes, you must write complete, good answers to all questions on your exam paper. Put your brain to work. Do something. Think, think fast—what can be done! Whatever you think of, do that! If you delay, everything will be lost! Do something so you don't have to take the same exam twice. Sitting there hoping to retake the same exam again and again—why do you think your patience and intellect will suddenly multiply next time? If you don't feel like studying now, will you feel like it then? What are you thinking? You're thinking these things because it feels good to think, I understand. But at the same time, bring the real picture into your mind. Let's leave aside the fact that people will laugh at you! Don't you have any shame or fear within yourself? Are those things to be stuffed in your breast pocket and slept on? Worry! Yes, be afraid. Right now! Fear will only grow later, not diminish. If you want to be afraid, be afraid now!
Whoever you develop a crush on, look at them properly, take a good long look—they're nothing but a fool! Having a crush is fine, but have a crush on someone with character. What will you do with such an idiot? Even thinking about them later will make you laugh at yourself. If you develop a crush on a goat, then you must surely be a ram! The person you have a crush on reveals your own character. Do you understand, girl? Now, when I'm thinking all this in my mind, must I maintain propriety and purity even in my thoughts? I mean, are words like fool and goat absolutely forbidden?
If I don't write in my diary, what else will I do? Just because of a little hand pain, I won't be able to write much in tomorrow's exam. Unable to write proper answers, I'll sit in the exam hall sucking my fingers in sorrow. Those who have achieved greatness in this world have always worked like mad people behind their dreams, laboring patiently. Where have I heard them say when they can rest, when they can enjoy comfort? Then why shouldn't I write even this little bit? Why should I sit idle with folded hands? Listen, Anila. You may not know what you'll become in the future or whether you'll amount to anything at all, but you can certainly dream of those days without hesitation! Dreaming costs nothing, you just need to know how to dream. Think about what that day will be like when you'll be recognized everywhere through your own merit? Ah, you'll be able to remember these past days, and these sorrowful days will come to mind then, won't they? You'll remember and laugh with joy, with happiness, with bliss. Only you know how alone you were! Only you understand how selfish time was then! Seeing you, hearing your story, many people will find the right path for their own lives. How much joy you'll feel then—you can't even imagine!
Look, whatever anger, resentment, sorrow, pain, or hurt I may have toward you—none of it exists.
I'm already in quite a mess, so please don't send me nonsensical messages and add to my troubles. And yes, just because I've given you space in my diary doesn't mean you need to get all worked up about it—I've done this purely for my own benefit. I'm writing to calm my restless mind and to give in to the urge to put my thoughts down on paper. Your role here is quite secondary.
Why must I think so much before writing what I want to write? And why write things that require sitting and pondering? Rather than crafting elaborate, well-arranged prose, what matters to me is writing clearly whatever comes from the heart, getting something down on paper—that's what's real to me. I don't want to be such a great writer. I simply want to assure myself that I've managed to write exactly what I'm thinking. I want only honesty in my thoughts and their expression. If I can achieve this, I'll be quite happy. I'm very sleepy, yet I can't resist the temptation to write. There are medicines to induce sleep—why isn't there one to chase sleep away? If I were a scientist, I'd certainly invent a sleep-banishing drug. By the way, cockroach killers are sold with people shouting "Kill rats, kill cockroaches, kill bedbugs!" But why is there no canvassing that goes "Save rats, save cockroaches, save bedbugs"? Just because it's a cockroach, does that make it less than human? I'm enjoying this foolishness. My diary, I'll be foolish, as much as I please!
I know I don't fall in love so easily, constantly, quietly, pitter-patter, trickle-tickle, all that nonsense. Controlling myself in every situation has now become the easiest thing for me. Perhaps that's why the environment and circumstances around me are changing today. What I don't expect, what my small brain can't comprehend—that's exactly what's happening. Today again someone else came and observed me so intently that I could no longer focus on my exam. Everything's ruined! They've made a mess of my exam too! But this won't do. I must control these things and accept them easily, because now these things will happen to me—all sorts of topsy-turvy things will happen to me. To succeed, I must learn to endure these things, to adapt to them. Everyone wants to come close to me now, wants to hover around me. Many will want to befriend me too, but I must handle these matters skillfully, control myself, maintain distance from everyone, and until my foundation becomes solid, I must remain foolishly silent.
She who cooks also braids hair. Now there can be no shouting and screaming about this. I must prove that apart from my work, I can do many other things too. Even if I shout "I can, I can" until my voice breaks, no one will believe me—I must show by doing. Demonstrating once is far, far, far better than saying "I can" a million times. There's no point in making excuses. At the end of the day, everyone will blame me anyway.
Whatever you've done, you haven't done it well. I don't know what great storm will come upon you next! But I'm afraid, thinking whether you'll be able to weather it. Now when it seems to me that what happened to me was, in one sense, for the good, perhaps this isn't quite the truth of my heart somewhere.
Perhaps I tell myself all this now to find comfort, compelled to accept what I must. And yes, I also think—had I won you, I might have lost everything else! I had already lost my very self, let alone anything else! I'm content with what I've gained now. Perhaps I'll find much more ahead, things that haven't even crossed my imagination yet! All rewards for my suffering, though it's also true I never sought any of this. Still, I find happiness and peace in my heart when I'm certain that no emotion stirs within me anymore—I am now a person in complete control of myself. There's no greater reward than keeping oneself under one's own command. Today's achievement didn't happen overnight. I've reached this day by losing bit by bit, defeat by defeat, since long ago. I know this is my solitary triumph—no one shared the burden of my struggles. No one at all! Only God somehow kept sending strange strength from above to endure everything. One must know how to endure. Even a fool can react to everything.
Now I realize there's no point trying to forget anything by force. Forcing yourself to forget something only makes it return more vividly to memory. I feel that one day I'll suddenly forget it all naturally, or if it does remain, I'll laugh thinking about it all. That's what happens! Even now I laugh when so many things come to mind! When childhood memories suddenly surface, how much laughter they bring! The joys I've gained in exchange for my pain are now my happiness, because they're what give me strength! You wait and see—one day you won't have the worthiness or courage to stand before me! What you once received effortlessly, taking it as your due, you'll never have again. Not even through devotion! That day you'll only feel regret. You'll understand how much your neglect will make you weep. Time knows how to reverse completely one day! Whether anyone else knows this or not, I know it! I know that everyone's time comes, one day or another!
To abandon all bad company and reshape myself entirely in my own way, I'll need to stay completely solitary, peaceful, and apart. Yet even so, one must engage with something. One can't live completely cut off from society, outside of everything. For this I need countless good books and the world of information technology, which will constantly keep me informed about all situations outside. With these I must gradually build myself... very carefully, entirely in my own way. But how can I manage this? Buying books is somewhat within my means now, but to use information technology extensively, I'd need a computer—such an expense! Where's the money? Who will give it to me? Will it remain unbought then? Should I accept everything this way and sit quietly with a heavy heart? Today the in-course exams ended. The year finals lie ahead. I'll need to study for those, and then there are the job preparation books to buy gradually afterward. If not now, who will pay for books later? Meanwhile, to pass this running year reasonably well, I'll need several more books.
There are incidental costs for college fieldwork, filling out admission forms, and so forth—all of that will be needed too. And there's very little opportunity to save money. For interviews, I'll have to buy and tailor at least a decent dress, even if it's quite ordinary. On top of all this, where will I find the money to buy a computer? Who will give me that? All these burdens have merged into one enormous weight pressing down directly on my shoulders! And amid all this, I have to finish my studies and establish myself! I think about all this until I can find no shore!
I am deeply resentful. Yes, having lost everything to life, only this resentment remains with me. Only broken memories have accumulated in my mind! Yes, defeated by life from every direction, from every place, I have lost all bearings, shriveled from all sides like fragments of shattered glass! I am completely finished! Tell me, are you happy now? Happy, aren't you? From every corner, from all of you, I have utterly wounded and torn myself in a pit full of thorns, completely devastated and finished, entirely defeated! Doesn't it feel good to hear? You, him, and many others who managed it however they could—that is, however I allowed them to—tortured me that way, wronged me. Tell me, are you pleased to know all this? You have won, I am completely broken and defeated and finished. Happy now?
I don't even feel hatred toward you all. The hatred is toward myself. After all this, after everything that happened to my life, I trusted someone again, loved someone again—how shameless I became! Disgusting! It's right that God taught me a proper lesson! It served me right! This is exactly what should have happened to a shameless girl like me! This is what my sincerity deserved, and yes, I don't blame any of you. All the fault is mine alone. I won't ask or be surprised wondering how you could do it! Of course you could! You had to be able to! How could it be otherwise? Every gift has its price! There's nothing surprising about it! You did exactly what I deserved. You placed me where I belonged. I had so much pride in you within myself—this is why I deserved all this, and I got it too! I used to speak so boastfully about you to everyone; that face is gone now. I have received so much from life! Losing you, I learned so much from you. You taught me, gave me so many lessons! You weren't stingy at all!
Crying and weeping until I was finished, tearing out my heart from within, I separated from you and ended that Anila! And the next Anila is a different Anila. The two are not the same in any way. We are different people. And yes, you lost the former one; the latter one who exists will never be yours! Thinking of this, you will be sad someday. You will definitely be sad! Even with all my love, I couldn't keep you. I couldn't keep you in any way. I couldn't keep you with anything at all. It's for the best. What would have happened later anyway has happened earlier. If it had happened later, my pain would have been even greater. The earlier bitterness is much better than the later bitterness.
Don't weep for your loss.
If you believe in the Creator, remember this: when He takes something away from you, it is only because He has kept something far better in store for you. Perhaps what you have now will not bring anything good into your life. If it were not taken from you, it would only cause you greater harm. He alone knows what is good for you and what is not. You will not get what you want. But what you need, you will surely receive. Therefore, whatever is given to you or taken from you, both are done for your good. Even if you cannot understand this now, you will understand it later. But you must wait for that time to come. Thank God for what He is taking away from you. If you do not thank Him now, you will have to thank Him later. If you remain true in your intentions, He will transform your troubles into strength.
I cannot remember all the ways I have tormented myself, how many times! Nor do I want to! Still, some things come back to me, and I keep laughing. I laugh, yes, now after all this, even without wanting to, I have been forced to become quite selfish! And I have changed so much. Somehow I have been compelled to. When your back is against the wall, what choice do you have? Only paper can bear, can carry all my unspoken words and pain! Who else endures me besides paper? Who else understands me besides paper? Truly, no one but paper can keep me at peace for a while. No one stays by my side, no one understands my heart, no one understands me except myself. All my grievances, my resentments—only this paper knows them all. It keeps me company, stays by my side.
At a new BCS coaching center, I met a brother. Since our first meeting, whenever I have spoken with him, all my despair has disappeared. He always says, when the interview board sees you, the officers will give you a job just like that. I know becoming a BCS cadre is not that easy, getting a job on merit is very difficult, yet when I talk to this brother, when I hear his words, I want to believe that I too will get a job on my own merit! No one has ever said even this much to me. Somehow, I too feel in my heart that when I go to the interview board, the officers will not turn me away without giving me a job. And when this brother says it too, I want to believe it even more. Thank you, brother. Just with your words you give me so much courage, I gain so much faith in myself then. If I ever get a job, I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life. Why don't people just keep their mouths shut when they have nothing good to say to others? What harm is there in giving someone a little courage, a little encouragement? Why do people prefer to break hearts?
God, show me the path. How to begin, which way to go, how to find what I need, where the path to fulfilling my dreams lies—I am deeply troubled about all this. Tell me, must everyone like me? There will be many people who will not love me. Those who have no use for me will naturally be annoyed just seeing me.
Who likes whom depends on how useful that person can be or cannot be to them. Anyone who finds no use for me will say that this person is good for nothing. In the eyes of someone who gains no benefit from me, I am a fool, unhelpful, good-for-nothing. Am I really all that? Perhaps the ability I possess, the work I'm capable of doing, may be of no use in their work, which is why they speak of me this way. People generally call someone good only when they find them useful. People generally promote someone as very capable only when they can get a lot of work done through them. They cast aside the rest with neglect. This doesn't mean that all the rest are incompetent, that all the rest are fools. People make whoever serves their interests into the best. Just look at reality shows! What happens there, why it happens—we all understand and know. But this is no big deal. When I need someone's recognition, what's the problem in presenting myself to them according to their liking? If I were in their place and they in mine, wouldn't the same thing happen?
Today, after a long time—I don't know exactly how long. I remember neither dates nor times, only the events. Everything else is hazy, unclear. Yes, after a long time, I'm sitting down today to write about both of them—the two people I had to lose without wanting to. I lost them by going against myself and my own heart. And I too was defeated along with that. Most likely in December 2011, I married Piash. There's nothing left to hide about these things now. What happened to me, what I allowed to happen to myself despite great reluctance—I can speak of it all easily. It becomes much easier once you speak it out. Besides, since I couldn't erase these things from my mind, and though I've forgotten some things, I haven't forgotten everything, and even wanting to, I couldn't forget—I won't try to force myself to speak of these things anymore. The reason is, if God doesn't want to let me forget, then it's absolutely impossible for me to remain forgetful or forget completely. And another reason is that I cannot deny what has happened in my life, nor will it ever be erased from my brain. By trying to erase it, I can never move forward. The more I try to forget it, the more it will come back to memory. Since these are parts of my life, I have to accept them and move forward. And yes, perhaps I'm alive within all of this. But thinking about some reason behind those events has weakened my mental strength much more than before—I'll write about that some other day. Right now I don't have the courage to write about that.
These days I post random statuses on Facebook. Everyone thinks the girl is somehow crazy. What kind of statuses does she post—yet no one says these things out loud, not even when they meet me. What I write, many people think the same, but they post different things on Facebook. Everyone posts popular things or various evasive remarks on Facebook. I generally don't do that. I can think, I can speak, I can write. Everyone says many things deep down inside, and thinks to themselves, what's the need!
What if I fall into danger by writing the words of my heart? I laugh when I see them. They speak most about what they never think. What they say, they don't do. What they do, they don't show. I gave up long ago trying to understand what they comprehend and what they accomplish.

I live with a heap of hatred for the entire world. This happens too, that happens as well! Just that I am alive—this is the greatest achievement of my entire life. Dying is easy, even cowards can manage that. Fighting with life and staying alive is the most difficult thing. I am doing that most difficult work. It's not that living causes me less suffering than others. Nor is it that my life is easier than those who have vanished from life. The difference is that they couldn't endure and fled from life, while I am enduring everything with gritted teeth. Let me see what happens, where life abandons me.

Today I took Mother to the doctor. For her regular checkup. My mother has been a mental patient for a long time. I have been taking her to the doctor for many years. Today there was a patient in the doctor's chamber. An HSC student. Her mind is finished from studying! Now she understands nothing except books. Her pretest is coming up, and this tension has made her mentally unbalanced. Her name is Rafiqa. I spoke with her at length. She really does study a lot, and in that sense, one could say she has focus in her studies—she is a sincere student. But no matter how good she is, what has happened to her is not what I expected. She said some strange things. She said when she opens a book, the book cries. She can clearly see, she says, that the books placed before her are sad, they are weeping. Her exam is right ahead, and she has fallen ill at this time. She wants to study but cannot. Books are like friends to her. Yet whenever she opens a book, the book cries. Thinking that her friend is crying before her, she cannot study anymore. She speaks so beautifully, arranging her words so well, and is so good, gentle, and refined that seeing her condition made me very sad.

What kinds of people exist in this world. Some cry because they cannot study, and then there are others who cry precisely because they study too much. When we see someone crying, we think they must be mad. We never inquire into their sorrow. Instead, we judge them according to our own standards. We assume that what we know is the truth. When something happens outside the experience we have, we cannot easily accept it. Whatever the case, I was deeply pained seeing Rafiqa's situation. I will pray to God for her, that she recovers quickly.

Sometimes I feel a great desire to see you, but I deliberately don't. Today I miss you terribly. Many questions arise in my mind—don't you feel even a little desire to see me? Don't you want to speak with me? Did I not love you even a little from my heart? Or if you didn't love me at all, how did you manage to act through all of that? Can a person become so skilled in the art of acting? When I think of these things, I still cannot believe what has happened.
How did you act so swiftly and forget so completely? Does not even a fragment of me linger in your memory? Have I become such a failure of a person simply for having loved? Did she claim you so thoroughly that you needed not even a day to forget me? Perhaps there was some flaw in my love, some impurity that prevented me from holding onto you. I am astonished when I remember—that you too could do such a thing! That you too were capable of this! Perhaps I never truly knew you. Perhaps you had hidden yourself so completely that I could never have imagined there existed another face of you beyond the one you showed me. How I have restrained myself, resolved never to let you see my sorrow or even to see you at all—only I know this.
I say this without anger or resentment—truly, I could not hold onto you because of my own inadequacies. I lacked that worthiness. You saw nothing in me that could please you. I could not present myself to your liking, not to you, not to anyone. It is all my fault. This is the truth. This I have accepted. I will never harbor anger or resentment toward you, for perhaps only God knows how much and in what ways I desired you, and knowing this still, He did not give you to me. Perhaps He did not want our union to happen, did not want us to be together. God these days, for some reason, answers none of my calls. Perhaps I carry some great sin, and this punishment is what I receive for it. You have managed quite well to give my claim to someone else. You have made not the slightest error, not a trace of one. What you have done, you have done rightly. You have always been shrewd in your calculations. You have committed no injustice or wrong. How could you ever make a mistake, tell me?
I want to say so much, want to live and witness so much more. But I do nothing to make that witnessing possible. What little lies within my power, what little I could do—even that I do not do. Because you belong to another. And I am not so shameless as to covet what belongs to someone else. I have never done such a thing in my life, and I will not do it today. Everyone covets what is mine, everyone takes my things away, but I take nothing from anyone. For I know how to create my own things with my own hands. I know how to create. To walk through this world, I need nothing that belongs to another. I am not accustomed to living on others' possessions. You too, go as far as you can, and then go even farther, so that we may never meet again, never speak again. If you truly were meant to be mine or are mine, then you are my possession, and I believe that what is mine will come back to me even if it must circle the entire world—no one can prevent that. If you are mine, then you are bound to return to me.
Success is no simple matter. God has taken away countless small joys from me, objects, precious things—perhaps so that He might give me something greater and send me toward my destination. Those things that appear large when seen from the outside but are actually small—when such things lie within our reach, God cunningly, through some pretext, takes them away. Success is not so easy!
I have lost all that I loved, all that I cherished, in the intoxication of pursuing success. I say it again: success is not so simple. Now I no longer speak to anyone with the same ease as before, ready to let things slide. I will extract the proper price for my humiliation from them. I certainly will. I am simply waiting for the right time and the right opportunity.

Some people, whether they can do anything else or not, excel at dispensing wisdom. My eldest aunt's son, older than me in age, and by virtue of that seniority, keeps giving me endless advice, endless counsel. To this day, he has never been able to hold any job for very long. He knows well the justifications for why he couldn't. Even so, I respect him and speak to him with proper reverence as an elder brother. Today he sent me a massive text on Facebook about the role of fathers in middle-class families. The purpose of that text was to distribute wisdom to me and, in his judgment, to expound how my father has failed to play an adequate role in our family. He has never witnessed how deeply I love my father and how much I care for him. He doesn't even know me closely. Perhaps he thinks of me only through whatever notions about me he harbors in his mind from that distance. It's impossible to move him from that position. In that case, his negative impressions of me are probably stronger. Most people are like this.

Anyway, how much I love my parents—only I know this, and my God knows. If anyone else knows, it would be Pias, because she had some resentment about this matter. She had only one thing to say: that even after marriage, I wouldn't be able to love my parents this much. When outsiders come and lecture me on this subject, I say nothing, because I live with my parents while those who give advice do not. By virtue of this, whatever my parents need now, I must see to it, and what will happen in the future—though I don't know—still I pray to God always that I may be able to support them with all my capacity as long as they live. How much I love them, I cannot fully express now, because since I don't have a job, I cannot give them anything material. And for this reason my love cannot be properly expressed, and I know no other way of expressing love. I don't want to know either, because my past has punished me enough over this matter.

Anyway, I didn't reply to my brother today and won't in the future either. If I survive, and if God helps me, then he will see with his own eyes that I am supporting my parents at my own expense, that there is not the slightest negligence in their medical care. Since he has forcibly bestowed his wisdom upon me on this matter, I want such a day to come when perhaps I won't need to resort to words to silence him. My work and position will provide all the answers. What a bunch of worthless people! He probably doesn't even know what a thoroughly worthless and irritating person he is! Of course, people of this type are exactly like this. They live worthlessly and die worthlessly. They come uninvited to speak, to distribute wisdom. A pack of fools! Looking at these shameless creatures makes me want to grab them and kick them!

There are seven steps to gaining self-confidence. First, one must think positively in all circumstances.
Two, you must know yourself and recognize your areas of strength. Three, you must have complete faith in yourself. Four, you must believe in action, not words. Five, with proper preparation, you must fight against your fears. Six, you must humbly accept your weaknesses and strive to overcome them. Seven, your body language must be one hundred percent positive, and you must practice it regularly.
Shame on you, Anila! You still think of that person, your life still comes to a standstill because of him! You still cry from the pain of not having him. For that very person who understood your love, your suffering, your vulnerability, and used you before walking away! For whom you stayed awake talking until two or three in the morning, sometimes all night, until he finished his duty and went to sleep! Your body was exhausted, sleep weighed heavy on your eyes, you were unwell... on so many such nights, just to keep him happy, you presented yourself exactly as he wanted, talking until two or three in the morning without showing any fatigue or irritation. The one you never let feel alone—how could he forget everything and just leave! You suffer for that person who knew very well when he left that you were intensely devoted to him! You loved him blindly and believed that he would never abandon you! Even after everything, you still believed this, yet at the end of the day, he denied all relationships, all connections, and left you alone. That person for whom you gave up your studies, your hobbies, your friends—gave all your time only to him—that person left you.
Shame! You feel pain for someone who used you according to his emotional whims when he needed you? You cry for someone who knew you'd go mad without his love? Yet day after day he only took love from you, never loved you even a little. Whatever love you thought you saw was all his performance. For him you abandoned your studies, forgot various ways to stay well, gave him all the valuable time of your life. You still think of him and suffer from the anguish of not having him. The one to whom you gave mental peace bit by bit, day after day, gave him strength to move forward, loved him more than he ever expected, did things for him that were sometimes beyond your means—that very person would never even meet you except when he needed something. Have you forgotten it all, Anila? The one who never came to comfort you even knowing tears fell from your eyes, never cared to ask what happened to you, never said, "You're feeling down, let's take a walk by the river together. You'll feel better."... You shed so many tears thinking of him!
Shame! You suffer so much thinking of such a person, you cause yourself such pain! Don't you have even a little love for yourself in your heart that when someone else doesn't love you, you can't love yourself anymore? You have this futile hobby of tormenting yourself thinking of that old flame! Why for him, who day after day only took, never gave anything? He never once checked on you! Even after all this, you're actually doing well through your own efforts!
He never felt the need to understand your tears and come close, or even just make a phone call to comfort you! He's not someone worth destroying your own life for! Your career will end for someone who used you as the sole instrument to build his own career? All this suffering for someone who still can't understand his mistakes? He simply assumes you're probably angry! Ah, how trivial mere anger seems compared to such anguish! You're destroying yourself loving such a person who doesn't even have time to think about you? He still treats you and your love like a game. Even after all this time, he thinks of you as a toy! Such so-called love can be found anywhere with a mere gesture! Day after day, night after night, enduring torment, despite the greatest storms—both small and large—that have swept through your life, you've surrounded this wrong person with love, never letting him see your pain, while he remained indifferent in his own way, never once turning to look at your suffering, and it's him you fear losing! Why do you suffer thinking about someone so calculating and hardened?
I've made a promise to myself that I won't think chaotically about anything anymore, that I won't consider anything a hardship except death itself. If I think or keep thinking about trivial matters, I'll go mad. When I lock my room door before going out, everything stays fine. When I don't, small things keep disappearing every few days. Such things disappear that I can't imagine anyone would take. Just the other day, a diary went missing. It had completely personal conversations written in it. I had written some of my own poems and copied down lyrics of my favorite songs. Thinking about what use that diary could possibly be to whoever took it has made me sick. Does this make any sense? Tell me, why am I like this?
(To be continued...)