Chapter 10

16.12.14
The day Pakistan bled again.

I woke up at 4 PM today. Oblivious of the world, warm in my bed and getting irritated that a stupid phone call woke me up. It was in less than an hour that I was out of the house, my lips painted red, having a casual conversation with a friend
"Oh, by the way, did you hear about Peshawar?"
"What about Peshawar?"
"TTP attacked a school and killed 130 plus children"
"Oh! Inna Lillah e Waina Alae i Rajiun"

The conversation drifted into something about dances and good food. I worried about how a friend of mine would be upset that I was arriving late to her dance practice.
"She's going to be furious!", I said to the rest, as we casually sat at the English Tea House and had our food. The bill was paid and we left. Hurrying to my friends house, I talked about how I would be shifting some place new soon and how difficult/weird it would be for me. The flow of the conversation was light and I worried how I wouldn't find the way to Azzah's home.

The moment I entered, we blasted the music and started dancing. From one song to another, we laughed, made fun of each and ate some good food. I worried that I might not look good dancing since I couldn't get the steps right. A brilliant suggestion was made to have oxygen shots. We all got into cars and headed out for some innocent fun. I worried what song would best be suited for the moment as I wanted it to be fulfilling. We headed towards Hotspot where a friends' sister casually asked;
"Guys, do you want to go to Liberty chowk for lighting candles"
"For what? I'm so tired, I need a break tomorrow"
"So insensitive!"
"No really, what does this signify?"
And the conversation hardly lasted another 2 minutes.

I came home, shortly after midnight and finally sat on my laptop. As soon as I logged in on Facebook, I saw black boxes in my ticker. Uh, black boxes? Strolling down my News feed, I saw how people had changed their profile pictures and updated statuses regarding the blast that killed so many children. I saw pictures of blood, shoes, children who died and got goosebumps all over. And then, I thought to myself, what's next?

Pakistan, I am sorry for being so insensitive. I do nothing but go on with life. A time will come when all these black boxes will again be replaced with our pictures, the liberty chowk will again only have one man with the sign that reads "Jinnah ka Pakistan", this day will go down in history, our politicians will take a break from their petty drama and then? Then, the show must go on. My worries are minimal, my tears refuse to show, my heart refuses to break and my sanity is still intact.

What are those families doing right now, I wonder? Are they still gathered around the bodies of their children? Are they cursing the ones who shot them? Are they asking Allah for forgiveness? Are they still sane?

Pakistan, I am sorry. Today you bled and my life? It just went on. My conversations? They remained casual.

I, as a human being, fail to understand anything at this point. I worry what will happen to this nation. And, I worry what the wrath of God has in-store for us next.

I shall still sleep peacefully tonight.
Pakistan, I'm sorry.

Chapter 9

Almost everyone I know is at that point where they're graduating, getting new jobs, getting married and the usual mumbo jumbo.

I hope you all realize that this is it. This is the rest of your life and this may not always be a bad thing, you know. It's important to realize the worth of the moment you are in. 

Please stop fretting about repeating summer semesters, they're just going to bring new memories. 

Go for your Masters for all the wrong reasons. You need to make this last. 

Go for a job you love and keep experimenting with who you are. The rules do not define you, your creativity can get the best of you. 

Skip a day from work to sleep in or for a road trip with friends - it'll be more memorable than any presentation you have.

Stay foolish, everyone else wants to be wise.

Love yourselves and, like Sir Tony said, live in the moment 

Chapter 8

Love.

It's a myth, believe me. Everyone has their own definition, their own experiences and their own stories. I think it's an emotion that fights its way through all the bad days, giving you this feeling of wanting to be more than ordinary for someone. For some, it can be flowers on Valentine's and for others, the perfect chick flick followed by the perfect dinner. Then, there are fools like yours truly who believe in just writing down love stories. Because, that's what makes them amazing; they are stories that everyone wants to believe in too. Because we are naive and love is what gets us going.

But, strange things can happen too. What do you do if someone picks you out from 100's and makes you theirs? What happens when someone finds every freaking trait in you so likeable? What if someone knows your insecurities and yet finds you beautiful? What will you do if someone knows the darkest and brightest bits of you just to understand it makes you all the more bearable? What if someone makes you fall in love with yourself? 

There are no violins playing, no dancers out of the blue to perform some classic romantic yet fun song, no wind blowing my hair away as I feel like I've found someone, no perfect definition of 'the one, no rings, no protocols.

I think I'll just be. 

In my skin, so imperfect and yet perfect for someone. Because, finally, someone finds me to be okay around. 

Chapter 7

So, I was reading through these quotes, as usual, and I noticed one thing. How come, every time a writer talks about beauty, he speaks of a woman. Why must the woman be the protagonist in this cruel game of beauty? Why isn't the man making me sweat, without having the tall, dark and handsome image. Why can't he have the most mesmerizing eyes, the most delicate lips and just plain, puffed cheeks? Why must he always be..sexy?

Think about it. And, write about it too!

Chapter 6

There are very few people in the world who love you for absolutely nothing. These people come very rarely and tend to leave a little early. I wish I could hold on to them and love them for all the self-less reasons but hey, if you realize something on time and act accordingly, how will you ever get to call life 'fucked up'?

If you ever find someone who loves you for absolutely no reason, hold on. Tightly. For all you know, they will be the fondest memory you've ever had. 

Missing Hasnat Uncle on this weird evening.

Chapter 5

Fat.

Diet.

Etc.

Kind of tired of obsessing over my weight. I don't really understand people who refuse to indulge themselves in the delicacies that Lahore has to offer. I don't see why people must point towards someones butt and make a face. I like big butts and I won't lie.

Stop obsessing over your weight. Or your girlfriends or boyfriends or sisters or so on. Until and unless they're not obese - stop obsessing over it.

I love my body the way it is. The darkest and lightest areas of it. The bumpy fat, the back dimples and the mere overall imperfection. It starts from my large forehead, down to my broad shoulders, my small hands, my flat stomach, my abnormally big butt, my meaty legs to my really small feet. I like it as its mine to criticize, to change, to experiment and most importantly, to love.

I have fat arms but I love showing them off. They give the best of hugs, you know. I'm not delusional nor am I egoistic but I just frikkin love everything about my body.

And so should you :) 

Chapter 4.

Uncertainty certainly takes a toll on a person that is already crazy. To think and then over think everything can have its affects on the weak. Some may get depressed where others can get creative. I'm a little of both. 

Insomnia, my friend, is a bitch.

Chapter 3.

What can I do if my life is set on the 'right' track and yet I see other people and want an instant change.
It's okay to yearn for the things I want, the ones I never got and the ones I love. Then there are things that I have, that others want and hey, I have them all. So ungrateful, I tell you.

But, that's the human race for you. Perfection is scarce, and if you ask me, not even wanted around me. I flourish in relationships which promise insults, fun and straight forward-ness. Call me crazy, or normal, but this is just the way it is.

I write love stories and people simply create them. I admire them the most.

Chapter 2.

It's not cool to break someone's heart, you know. It's not cunning to cheat someone into believing that your world revolves around them. And it's definitely not human to be an asshole.

If you're reading a lot of Elle or other online articles; throw them in the trash. There is no way an article will help you understand a woman. Here's the story from a woman's point of view:

If she goes all out on your birthday and you see her hair neatly made, her awkward stance, her new hair color and some slick clothes; baby, she's smitten all over you already. She's dressing up for you and representing you because, hey, she's your girl. She has every right to do so.

She's not asking you to grab her hand and attend the whole birthday with her, she's simply there for the respect she deserves, the casual glances you might throw her way, the jokes that you, as friends, share. She's here for you, she's yours. Don't try to take it casually and just let her be another guest. Don't diss her efforts and do not try to act like the smart ass most men are. Recognize her, introduce her, respect her.

So if you're letting go of someone who is making an effort for you, unlike the new chicky you have by your arm who won't stick to a son of a bitch like you for even 6 weeks, let alone 6 years, okay. Okay, as in 'get your head out of your ass'. Respect a woman because she puts up with the horrible shit you throw her way. Just because of the number of years that have passed. Do not break her heart.

How to mend a broken heart, you guys? My friend is facing some problem in her relationship and I don't know how to make her feel better!

Chapter 1.

What is life? And, what do I want from it?

I look at people around me and everyone is driven by some passion. Passion for makeup, passion for workout, passion for books, passion for work and what not. And, I stand here. And, I look at them. Do I envy them? I think not. I think

I read something recently, an article by a teacher in The Nation. Man, what an inspiring woman. She speaks what I would love to write about. I would, but I can't! I'm literally numb and DUMB! I live by the motto Inspire and be inspired - and how many steps have I taken in this direction? None.

Welcome to my life, this is a horrible chapter of it. The deadliest time of the night, where you are alone with your thoughts, typing away on your computer, like you have been since the past 5 years, not aware of what tomorrow holds. I pray you all love your life, or learn to appreciate it. When you do, help me get there too!