Sunday, December 7, 2008

عيدكم مبارك

عيدكم مبارك وعساكم من العائدين والفائزين



Wish you all the best in this joyous occasion.

May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light, may good luck pursue you each morning and night.





Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Sorry Again

Dear readers,

I am terribly sorry about not updating recently. I know it seems horrible of me to do such a thing. I am going through a rough time in my life, and I am contemplating taking what I would normally find inconsiderable actions. I have no time at all for manifested reasons that I would rather not mention. All the time I am getting nowadays is several 10 minute breaks and an hour and half of leisure time at the end of my exhausting day. Please forgive me, I sincerely hope this drought won't last longer.

My best wishes and sincerest appologies,
Sham3at Al Jillas

P.S.: Wish me luck

Thursday, November 13, 2008

I've been tagged by PaLoMiNo, so here is a list of questions for you to answer:

1. Who are you?

2. Are we friends?

3. Something I have and YOU want?

4. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.

5. Describe me in one word.

6. What was your first impression of me?

7. Do you still think that way about me now?

8. What reminds you of me?

9. If you could give me anything what would it be?

10. How well do you know me?

11. How do you see me in the future?

12. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?

13. Are you going to post this in your blog and see what I say about you?

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Turbulent Liaisons (Part V)

“What’s wrong?” I shook her and got her back from where she was.

“No, no! Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is incredibly right,” she was glowing.

“Please talk. I am really getting worried,” I demanded.

“I have to tell you the whole story first,” she sighed with a twinkle in her eyes, “I had Ahmad when Saoud and Bader were only a little over two years old. It was exhausting; it was like raising a triple except two were running around uncontrollably and the third cried all day and night. I decided to take birth control pills and put my plans of having a girl on hold. Three years later, I was ready to get pregnant again and I stopped the pills, but there was no news. I waited and waited. And now after five years, I decided it was time to see an Ob/Gyn about it.”

The poor thing! And all along we thought that she didn’t want any more children. She’d never said a word about it, even with all the pressure she was under when Mother hinted at the subject. Mother repeated the story about how ecstatic she was the moment her doctor told her she was having a girl, after her speaking about the importance of daughters, of course.

“Carry on,” I encouraged her.

“Well, my doctor asked me to do some blood tests to see what’s wrong,” she was beaming like never before, “And I just got a message from her. It seems I am pregnant.”

In tears, I jumped over and hugged her despite all the barriers between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s. I was so caught in the moment that failed to notice the car behind me honking, waiting for my parking space to be free.

“Please, don’t mention to Yousif or Khalti that you know I am pregnant. They should have been the first to know,” she realized on our way back home.

The next morning, at breakfast, my mother had an incredible glow about her. It was as though candles were lit inside her eyes.

“What is it, Mama, you seem exceptionally happy this morning?” I asked wearing an oblivious look.

“Well, why shouldn’t I be? My only daughter is marrying a wonderful man,” she replied concealing the actual source of her delight. I would never understand the necessity Kuwaitis feel towards hiding pregnancy news until its third month.

“It’s been a more than a month and a half since I said yes,” I resumed my efforts to hear the truth I knew quite well, “That can’t be the reason.”

“So, what? Would you rather see me frown?” she scolded.

“Of course not, Mama,” I kissed her forehead with my coffee in my hand, “I am running late for work, now. If it’s okay, I will have lunch with Sana today. Bye.”

With a nod from Mother, I left the house rounding up the choices for our lunch. When Sana told me that her husband Khaled was leaving on three-day trip, I decided to take enjoy every minute of the temporary return of Sana’s free life. In the past eighteen months, since her return back from her honeymoon, our gatherings were much less frequent than they were before her marriage, and we wanted to reminisce. Lorenzo, I thought, that was the place to which we had gone often during Sana’s engagement. It was the best place to reminisce, even though it had changed its location.

“Now, tell me, what is your big news?” I asked Sana as soon as we were seated.

“I am pregnant,” she announced radiantly.

I was dumbfounded. Was there something in the air? Wow, two newborns to my dearest friends all at once! I was really excited.

“That’s so exciting! Tell me everything. What happened to enjoying at least four years of blissful marriage before having your first child? Those were your words. How long has it been? And how did Khaled react to the new? I am so excited I can’t stop talking,” I rambled.

“I know! So am I. Of course my excitement is mingled with some fear,” she couldn’t stop smiling, “It was somewhat unplanned. I am in my second month. What was that last question? Oh, yes Khaled is ecstatic.”

A few minutes into our conversation, I asked, “At the party on Thursday I met Fatima. Where do you know her from?”

“Our mothers are friends, she was with me in college, and I had invited her close friends, so I had to invite her too. Why do you ask?” she explained.

“Nothing, I was just curious,” I lied.

“Look, let me warn you,” she said with a serious tone, “Khaled had been with Fahad in college before Fahad left to continue in the states. He says that Fahad was being stalked all the time; girls would set traps to get him. On the bright side, he never succumbed to any attempt, not that he had been an angel, but he used to have it his way. So don’t worry about it what you hear.”

“And what did I hear?” I asked sarcastically. I knew about what she was saying. Dalal, who was a junior when Fahad was a freshman in Kuwait University, had told me about that before our engagement was announced. She thought that it was the reason behind leaving Kuwait after his first year.

“Anyway, how has work been since the end of your internship?” she asked when I made it clear that I didn’t want to carry on that topic.

“Not easy, believe me. Working at investment companies is not the dream. I can’t wait to complete my two year “training” before Yousef would hire me,” I poured my heart.

“Don’t look, but there is a good looking guy at 9 o’clock who can’t take his eyes off you,” she remarked, “We should tell Fahad about that. Since you became officially unavailable you’ve been attracting men like crazy.”

“I think that is something universal. You went through the same thing during your engagement,” I reminded her, “What is it? Do we send a vibe when we are unavailable that attracts pathetic guys?”

I really wanted to laugh then, but I was afraid that guy might misinterpret my laughter. Just then Fahad called. My first instinct was to ignore it, but Sana encouraged me not to.

“Hala,” I said cheerfully.

“Hala feech,” his deep voice responded, “First, please tell me you weren’t serious last night when you said that you didn’t buy a red dress.”

I giggled amusedly to the reference, “Well, I was not.”

“Too bad. So, where are you?”

“I am having lunch with Sana at Lorenzo.”

“What a coincidence! Abdallah and I were planning to have lunch there. We would have met.”

“Oh no. I would have gone some place else.”

“Hold on a second please. I have a call I must take,” he pushed some buttons and got back to me, “Yah hala Fatima.”

Fatima? Which Fatima? I knew that none of his three sisters, his nieces, nor his sister-in-law is called Fatima. The only Fatima I knew he was associated with was the one I met at the party, the brutally cold-hearted Fatima.

“No. It’s still me, Noura,” and hung up on him.

The thought of being a rebound was merciful when compared to this one. I am mere a tool that he was using to get even with Fatima, and maybe have her back too. I excused myself and went to the ladies room with my cell phone in my palm ringing off the hook. One call came after the other, all from Fahad. But what was his excuse this time? Or could he even concoct one? The only thing I was hoping for was that Sana hadn’t noticed my reaction.



To be continued…

Thursday, November 6, 2008

November

I know the title might seem delayed, but it took me a few days to realize how euphoric I was.

There is something about November that is so bewitching. I can't stop smiling beginning of the month, and believe me nothing has changed since October, nothing at all. Yet that certain charm that November has, that spell it casts on me, is highly intoxicating. I walk out to my car and I smile ear to ear at the sight of rain, and could not care less about being soaking wet. My indulgence in the fragrance rain brings is beyond what's humanly possible that even walking into a puddle or ruining my Zanottis might not disrupt it. I am not nature-loving at all, however for some reason I have a thing for fall.

Oh, did I mention I love November?

What about you?

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Turbulent Liaisons (Part IV)

I held the phone in my hand waiting for his reply, but instead, Fahad called.

“Were you checking your email last night when we were talking?” he asked trying to hide a sneaking chuckle.

“I was not!” I replied defensively, and then with a giggle, “I was reviewing a small file from work, however.”

“Am I that boring?” he laughed heartily.

“No, just time consuming,” I teased, “So what was it – the thing that’s been arranged?”

“Okay, I don’t know how much of your attention was dedicated to me yesterday, so I’d better start over. My father believes that one should never jump off the airplane to the meeting room. To him, spending at least a night at the destination is essential, to avoid exhaustion, frustration, anger, and all those unnecessary feeling and to be focused on the debated matter.”

“Uh-huh, now where are you going with that?” I was lost.

“Don’t you remember me telling you that I wanted to be there on Wednesday?” He asked condemningly.

That rang a bell in my head. Now I remembered! He said something about postponing his meeting. While he was talking to me, I was keeping myself busy on purpose. I was monosyllabic almost the entire conversation, with only “uh-huh”, “yes”, and “no”, and also the occasionally “I don’t know”. I wanted him to sense my disappointment and guilt him into speaking freely about Fatima. I didn’t think that the spell would turn over me.

“Umm, I – ” I stuttered, “Now, come on, take the high road. I am sorry,” I purred to get away with my deed.

“This morning I had a talk with father, and persuaded him that leaving on the next day, after seeing you, would be much better, or else I would be daydreaming about you all through the meeting,” his words made me blush, “Honestly, either way I would. What is it about you that is so possessing? Anyway, so now I would be leaving on a morning flight on Thursday.”

I was overwhelmed with joy. Fahad was going to attend after all. A second later, I became as nervous as I have ever been. I was not used to being seen with Fahad by my side; only my direct family was around with us together. And, so much for choosing freely the dress I like! The idea of wrapping a shawl around me when he comes in is not even considered; that would make me look like a runaway from an insane asylum.

“So are you at home?” he asked with a husky voice. A voice I knew too well to carry this conversation around anyone.

“I am shopping at Al-Othman,” I pointed out hoping to discourage him.

“Ooh, looking for something to wear on Wednesday?” he was relentless.

“I am with Dalal,” I declared as though answering a question.

“You know this is one of the reasons I had to be there on Wednesday,” he carried out that tone of his, “Have you decided on anything yet?”

“I’ll try this dress,” I pointed at a hideous yellow dress, which I wouldn’t be caught dead in, just to carry on what is left of this conversation in some privacy.

“Is it red?” he inquired as I walked into the fitting room after the dress has been placed in it, “You look breathtaking in red.”

“When have I worn red?” the question was more addressed to me than to him. I was trying to remember everything I had worn when he was around. Besides, I was deliberately avoiding red, since my mother saw it as a color too daring for a bride-to-be to wear in front of her fiancé.

“Well, I was trying to act like a gentleman and not mention it, not even if you asked,” he confessed, “However, to be honest with you, Lulu, my niece arranged a chance for me to see you before I propose. You were having breakfast at Prime and Toast with Lulu and Sana, and I was there with some friends. I was sitting in a corner table with some friends wondering how Lulu prevailed upon me to miss a day at chalet when the three of you walked in. And all I can remember is that I was mesmerized by an angelic beauty in a red shirt. I knew that moment that I wanted to marry that girl whoever she was.”

I was captivated by his words. All sense escaped me then. A look in the mirror left me ever so grateful that I was in the fitting room by myself. I didn’t know that a blush could turn into such a deep shade. My silence lasted longer than it should have, and I was supposed to say something, anything actually.

“It’s a blouse; girls do not wear shirt,” I corrected in an attempt conceal my reaction to his revelation, but my hoarse voice told a different story, “But I don’t remember seeing you that day.”

“You? See me? Do you even look around?” he remarked amusedly, “In any case, I decided to leave early since I couldn’t stop staring at you from behind my sunglasses.”

I was in awe. I didn’t feel anything remotely near what he was describing, when he first came to visit. To me, that was the first time I saw him, or at least was aware of him.

“I have to go now,” I mumble not really wanting to end this conversation, “I’ll talk to you later, bye.”

“Bye,” and he waited for me to hang up first.

I tried the hideous dress and came out of the fitting room to express my rejection. Outside, Dalal was waiting for me with a dazzling silver blue Oscar de la Renta. It was a silk sensation; its full skirt that fell just below the knees with immaculate white details above the hem and it had short sleeves that would put the most beautiful sleeves to shame. It was the perfect dress for such an occasion, with the uniqueness of its color and the beauty of its design. The second I tried it on, I was convinced that this was the only dress I could wear on Wednesday.

“I’ll take it,” I decided hastily, fully aware that Mother had not given me her consent. However, I was so sure she would love it.

“I can’t believe that it’s over. I thought it would take days at least,” I sighed as we got into the car.

“Me too! It was sheer luck. And with your white satin Louboutins you have nothing to worry about now,” she pointed out as she took out her cell phone from her Chanel to read a text message she had just received.

I didn’t have anything to worry about, but apparently she did. A glimpse of the face drained from any color brought me to terror.

“What is it? What happened?” I asked as her phone fell on her laps.



To be continued…

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Turbulent Liaisons (Part III)

I was in the living room watching TV, or looking beyond it, when I heard a thump to my right. I turned my face to find Abdulaziz, the youngest of my three brothers, thrown on the sofa next to me. After Fahad left, I ran upstairs into my room, holding the tears in my eyes; I didn’t want to open that door, or else the flood can’t be stopped. After resting on the bed behind closed doors, I started reading AlKahf from the Quran. By the time I was finishing, I heard the commencement of the prayer; I prayed and then fled my room to avoid all the thoughts that were running trough my head. In the living room, I sat before the TV watching the channel that was on when I turned it on. I was so taken by the theories I was building that I didn’t know how long has passed before I found Aziz by me.

“Okay, now, spill,” ordered the brother who was two years older than I am. He knows me like no one else does, and it was his prerogatives to be so, as we have been true best friends since his early teens. To him, I had a unique point of view that wasn’t provided elsewhere, and was easy for me to open up to him since he understood my environment perfectly. Our friendship grew thicker over the years, until he became the only person from my generation whom I be absolutely transparent with, besides Sana.

“You ask and I’ll answer,” I replied.

“Who are you fouling, kid. You didn’t even turn your head when I said hi earlier today. You worried me, but I was running late for prayer. I am back now, so spill your guts,” he announced.

“Aziz, I wish I could speak! I promised Fahad I wouldn’t. Look, there is an issue with Fahad; well it is not between Fahad and me. I mean, not a fight or anything. There is this… bomb that Fahad threw at me. Now, I know half of this thing, and I really need to know the rest. I mean, it is something that might determine the future of our relationship, but he says he can’t speak about it yet,” I didn’t know how confused I was until I spoke; I couldn’t even summon a fake prospective.

“Did you sense any sincerity when you two spoke earlier? He was here, and to you reading emotions is like reading headlines.”

“That is not exactly as it happened. You see… I hear something at the party last night, so I confronted him today. When I did, I just got a confirmation of it, but what I needed was an explanation. It is not a matter I can take lightly; the explanation is crucial,” I started to make more sense.

“I think that the fact that he confirmed it counts for a lot. You seem to find it a big deal, and I am sure he knew you would. So admitting to it is a sign that he has a good explanation that would come out in good time,” why did he have to repeat Fahad’s words? They seemed to be ganging up against me. “Try to put this matter in an unreachable place in your mind not to be release before, say, two months. If the explanation doesn’t come by then bring the matter forward for discussion, and then you can decide the effect of it.”

“Oh my god, the ways you guys think! How can I treat my mind, and my heart for what it’s worth, like a computer? There are not lags and delays when it comes to suspicion,” I was whining like a four-year-old whose toy was taken away. Is he seriously capable of doing what he is asking of me? But before debating the matter any further, the maid came in to announce that lunch was served.

Fridays have been for years the day when my brothers join us, along with their wives and kids, for lunch, and sometimes dinner too. I mutter something in the sense that the conversation did not come to an end yet, then got up walking toward the dining room, as Aziz followed my lead. Getting in, Yousef, my eldest brother who is thirteen years my senior, was the first there.

“Hala, Nawara,” he greeted me with a broad smile.

“Hala, Yousef. How are you?” I said absentmindedly.

“You look worried. Is there any problem? Is Fahad giving you a hard time?” he asked anxiously.

“No, no, of course not. I was thinking about a talk I just had with Aziz,” I twisted the facts.

“How could he anyway? Who could hurt my angel?” I had to remind myself again that he is not my father. When I was twelve, my father passed away. Then, Yousef had just been back from his honeymoon; he and his bride Dalal had been living temporarily in the apartment upstairs. However, after the tragedy that had stuck us unexpectedly, he had decided to live up to the responsibilities that were thrown at him. He succeeded tremendously in filling my father’s place in the family business, where he had started working two years before. Also, he decided against moving out to his own house, that was three blocks away from ours, and settled with us. I will always be grateful to Yousef for all he had done, especially for me. He had treated with the greatest kindest, yet firmly at time. I have never felt in need for anything, but he was always very cautious of not spoiling me. Since my father death, Yousef has been the perfect father figure for me. Although I never stopped missing my father, but my yearning to him was that of a girl to her grandfather: he was the one for spoil whenever I was scolded.

“Yousef…” I whined in an attempt to distract him from my brushing cheeks. I looked around and asked, “Where is Dalal?”

“She should be down with the kids in a minute,” he replied, as Dalal walked in with the twins and Ahmad. A few seconds later, Khaled and Reem, pregnant in her second trimester, joined us with their three-year old Faisal. And so, our weekly gathering commenced with increasing blabber.

The next morning, at 10 AM, Dalal came down to find me waiting for her in the living room. Shopping with her is a habit that I developed since my teens. Due to the age difference between my mother and me, I had not trusted her with fashion when I was younger. Now I can see that she is one of the most elegant ladies in Kuwait; she always dresses appropriately for her age and has a keen perspective of colors and body types. However, now, it is my mother who didn’t want to join us; she said that it is too exhausting to go around in seek of the perfect dress, yet she asked to give her approval on the final choice.

“Shall we go?” She asked as I got up and headed towards her.

“I am ready,” I declared, “Let’s start at Al-Othman.”

Al-Othman is my favorite store, when it comes to luxurious designer. There, they define luxury. We sat in a small, elegant lounge at the store drinking coffee while the sales girl exhibited various beautiful dresses design by some of my favorite designers.

“You have it easy,” remarked Dalal, “Your fiancé isn’t coming, so you can wear whatever you like, sleeves or no sleeves.”

“Yes, I know. I would have been so nervous if he were coming,” I said, not exactly truthfully. It is true that I would be a nervous wreck if he were coming, but deep down I wanted him to come. I wanted him to see me all dressed up and flatter me. That might sound rather vain, but it is the truth that most girls wouldn’t admit. Just then, my cell phone beeped. I picked up my Bottega Veneta bag and looked at my phone declaring with its bright screen a new text message.

It was from Fahad, and all it said was, “It’s been arranged.”

What’s been arranged? I was so confused. Was it a wrong message? All I could reply to it was, “I am sorry. What?”


To be continued...