Saddistically Spitting

Apparently, me and my friends are going through this phase where we are discovering life and have all these optimistic ideas about life and love and what not. I wonder how long it's going to take for real life to kick in. And by real life I mean the life in which you have so many problems that you barely have time to think about crap like this.
Thinking crap like this makes us feel so wonderful. It gives us the confidence like we've got the secrets of life all figured out and we'll grow up to be different than our elders who are always complaining how life is so hard. *bitter sarcastic spiteful laugh* As if our lives will be any less harder or less wonderful than our elders.

P.S Dedicated to my friend who was shares my 'spitefulness' with me.

Jus' Good Ol' Lovin'

"I'm seventeen years of age and I'm in love.

Someone once asked me if we can only become happy when we meet the one we love? Truth is, there’s a lot more to love than just that. I believe love is pure and vast. It can be found in the tiniest of things and we shouldn't confine it to just people. Love, to me, is all the colours of nature, the smell of rain and a good book to read. Love is smiling at a stranger and making people happy. Love is prayer and love is God. Love is great. And if you can find love in all of that then you can surely find happiness."
(http://thegirlwithoutthescarf.tumblr.com/)

We're so used to labelling love. True, love has many levels in this world: there is the parents love; the friends-love; the siblings love; the lovers love but I believe not every relationship has to fall within the criterion described by people. Sometimes it's just love. Love that is pure and simple. It doesn't fall into any limits set up by the society and you just simply don't care if people choose to define it that way. Because you know that it's just love in its purest simplest form. It's like a big cloud. Everyone wants it to be solid so they can touch it (because we need a proof of materialism for everything around us)  but the truth is love is just a big mass of white pure whispy substance which can't be touched or defined. It can just be absorbed. It can be felt.

P.S Isn't it so amazing when your friends feel the same deep shit that you do?

Would feel REALLY good to live like an ultimate hippie won't it? Just loving your way through life. Too bad we're ambitious humans.

Why I Can't Discuss Politics

My knowledge of politics is highly insufficient. And I want to make it sufficient, I really do, but the problem is I've never really talked to the right kind of person who can answer my questions the way I expect them to be answered.
Whenever I sit with someone to discuss politics, I get impatient. It's because their description and list of what's wrong with Pakistan is SO LONG and I keep waiting for the time when they discuss the solutions but that part hardly ever comes. Even if it does, (despite my inexperienced and unprofessional opinions) I find their solutions so thoroughly incompetent that I want to scream at them.
From what I have experienced up till now, here is what happens:
We're discussing illiteracy in Pakistan. People don't want to get education. The government isn't spending enough funds on building schools. There is too much corruption. It's all our leaders fault.
Yes, I get it. You're not wrong. We have a problem, obviously it's because of a reason and your reasons are completely sensible. But for heavens sake, DO NOT conclude at it's all our leaders fault.
You really want to find solutions? Walk a mile in their shoes. You try setting up a school when powerful external forces don't want you to. I'm not defending the leaders. I'm just saying that if corruption is one of the reasons why illiteracy is spreading, then don't just tell me that we need to set up new schools to eradicate illiteracy, tell me how you can do it with corruption hindering your aims.
It's just what I expect from the "knowledgeable" people of my circles.

Getting Shitted Upon

The reason why I've started blogging so much is because this is literally the only comfort I have now a days. The joy of constantly writing and whining is so relieving. And the best part is that because it's MY blog, and no one comments on it, no one can tell me to stop whining!

The thing is that all my friends are facing exactly the same situation that I am. That feeling of being trapped and suffocated (not to death because death would just put an end to the misery of being suffocated and what we're in has no end). So even though I do not hesitate in relieving myself and dumping all my whining on my friends, it really isn't as consoling as I would want it to be. Because we all know there just is no escape from all this.

Dear future me,
I know once we get past the time and look back, it seems not-so-difficult and looks quite happy. But please remember that college years were the worst years of your teenage life. Everyday your soul died a little and the funny part is that I'm not even joking. Your soul LITERALLY died every day. What you loved most about studying came to you in your college years and bit you in the ass until you were so sore that you couldn't even sit straight anymore. And after it was done biting you it shat on your favourite doll. The doll was made of cotton so it absorbed all the shit and so, you couldn't touch the doll until it was thoroughly cleaned which took A LOT of time. And even after it was cleaned, there were marks left behind which reminded you of how your doll was shat-upon. So don't you dare tell anyone that college years were fun and you learned a lot and all that bullshit because what you learnt doesn't outweigh how your doll was shat-upon. The only kindness you can do to the poor souls who are just entering into college-life is to warn them how their soul will slowly die. Or don't. Knowledge of it beforehand doesn't really make it any easier. Just give them a mournful pat on the back or a hug and tell them that it will be over soon.

The only hope I have right now that keeps me going is that I've been told that the college years really are horrible. After these two years, life gets just a wee bit okay-ier. I'm gambling on that 'later'. But for now I’ll just be overly dramatic:

My soul is dying and dead and dying again,

It's dead, it's dead, and it keeps dying again,

It gets up again and dies and then dies again,

It's killing me, it's worrying me and it's driving me insane.

P.S The doll represents everything that I love doing but I can't do any of those things. And by some miracle even if I do end up doing the stuff that I want to, it isn't really that much fun because most of the time is spent worrying about how I'm not studying.

The moment: 4

The moment when your teacher asks you if she should start the next topic in the last ten minutes left and obviously the class welcomes the question with a big NOOOOO! But still, teacher starts the next topic (Seriously, WHY DO YOU EVEN BOTHER ASKING US IN THE FIRST PLACE? DO YOU LIKE GIVING US HOPE JUST SO YOU CAN HAVE THE PLEASURE OF CRUSHING IT TO SMITHEREENS?). Your soul dies inside but you think, hey, it's just the last ten minutes. And after the ten minutes are over, and the blissful break bell rings, and YOUR TEACHER DOESN'T STOP TEACHING!

Now that is enough to make one cry. And I don't mean the "I-feel-like-crying" kind of feeling. I mean the "tears-are-about-to-escape-my-eyes-and-the-only-reason-I'm-holding-them-back-is-because-it's-going-to-look-pretty-stupid-if-I-start-crying" kind of crying.

When did I, somewhere along the road, start thinking that college years are supposed to be the best years of your life? Where? Just where? Tell me and I will go back in time and punch the shit out of myself and then scream "CHANGE THIS PHYSICAL PAIN INTO MENTAL AGONY YOU OPTIMISTIC BITCH THAT'S HOW MUCH IT'S GOING TO HURT IN COLLEGE!"

The moment: 3

When your friend tells you that 55 minutes are still left before dismissal, and what you thought was at least half hour was actually just five minutes into the class, you can't help but laugh because the situation feels so terrible. It just gets miserable to the point of being funny.

The moment: 2

The other day I had the most retarded moment ever. I was studying Pakistan Studies in the break time and I had a question. I went to the teacher sitting in front of me and started asking her Pakistan Studies related questions. When she said that she was not the one who taught me what I was asking her, I insisted that she was the one who told me these things. It was not until she said that she is a chemistry teacher, that I realized that I had finally lost my mind. And she wasn't even my teacher. I mean fine, it's understandable if she taught me another subject in class and for a moment I mistook her for my Pakistan Studies teacher but she was just a random teacher.

I still feel mentally challenged.

Declassified: Wooing Chicks

Wooing chicks is an art indeed. But the problem with this kind of art is that it hardly ever changes. There are generalized steps followed by every male species to woo a female counterpart. Or at least that's what my observation has been so far.

(So this post is based on several observations that I've made over my teenage years (aka the highly inexperienced years where you think you've gained all the knowledge the world has to offer- oh the naivety). And it is by no means a general generalization. Obviously, there are exceptions to every case scenario.)

So ladies, here is what you're up against:

1. Flattering or to be flattered: This rule can strongly be opposed because I have seen strong exceptions to this case. Anyways, what happens in this stage is that the guy tries to make the girl feel special. Hold on sistahs, because even though you might be special, remember how every girl is special in her own way. So there is no need for your brain to go in a high drive of self-loving "My special-ness has finally been noticed by this guy I SHALL LOVE HIM WHO DISCOVERED ME" There also have been cases when a guy tries to make a girl realize  how special he is and she needs to fall in love with him. The plain difference: in the former case, at least the guy is interested in you. In the later case, the guy just wants the satisfaction of being liked. Anyways, for the girls who are not ensnared by stage 1, read on for stage 2.

2. Patronizing: Ah. Yes. We women like the feeling of being protected. And on some level, guys know that. So its "Hey girl, come to me and I shall protect thee because I'm a strong strong man." Now THAT, really is an effective move which usually ends up with a girl saying, "Oh you! You had me at 'I'll take care of you babe!'" *emotional dramatized crying*

3. Coaxing: For girls who manage to escape level two, well, level three is even more captivating. The Gentle Coaxing. Yes, we girls also like to feel that guys would be helpless without us. So they appeal to our, I guess, maternal instincts? (The instincts to help out a helpless being) So we are faced with the REALLY EFFECTIVE "Please do this for me?" And Wala! We're doing exactly what the guy asked us to do.
If all else fails, the guys finally fall to the fourth stage, which I like to define as the Last hope. Or rather, it’s No Hope. For girls who manage to move through the mentioned stages without failing, Hats off sistahs, hats off. You are very strong indeed.

4. Reasoning: Now that's my favourite one. The one I like. In this stage, the guy finally realizes that girls are not the super sentimental creatures they assume us to be. That we can't be influenced by emotions and feelings alone we need to be reasoned with. But to be honest, this is occasionally the stage where gurrrlll yo off his admiration list. I'll explain why. At this stage, the guy realizes that they are not facing a lesser being that needs to be taken care of (remember, that a male species' primitive instinct is to 'protect and take care' because he has been given bodily strength to do that by nature). They are facing an equal who can take care of herself. They are facing someone who can oppose their ideas. And that is an undesirable trait no. 1. It's actually a defence mechanism. Guys like to be the alpha males. And once they mark someone as an equal, they start seeing them as a threat on a subconscious level. They want to assert dominance and if they see an equal they can't do that. Ladies, once you're in this stage, you can join the "Forever Lonely Cat-Lady Club". The good news: You are the alpha females. You are the worthy opponents. That's worth it if you harbor a secret mistrust of the general men population and want to protect yourselves against their influence.

But you know what? All this process actually helps the girl get her desirable partner (the one who can protect her if his words of protection are not too shallow) and helps get man his desirable partner (Someone who will take care of him by listening to/obeying him and satisfying his need to be acknowledged as the alpha male.). So what exactly is the point of this post when women like being wooed and men like wooing? It all just fits doesn't it?  Let's just go with the flow of nature? Why oppose it?

Well, this post is for the exception I've been talking about for so long. I'm talking about those members of my sisterhood who have seen men misuse their powers and have learnt to only mistrust them.

So girls, if you regard men with general hostility and you want to be treated equally, now you know how it works. Now, if a guy does the same thing to you and you don't want him to do that because you're so sick of this constant never changing behaviour of trying-to-assert-his-authority-on-me-and-make-me-do-things-I-don't-want-to , you can yell "GET NEW MOVES HOME-BOY!"

WE ARE SPHA*spit flying*RTHANS!

The other day I asked my mom if she had been taught to live without a man. She said no. I was never taught that. I was always assured that if I had any problem, my father would solve it. If not my father, then my brothers. And after I get married, my husband will bear the weight of my problems and then when we get old, my son will take care of me.
Maybe that's why her world fell apart when my dad left her. We humans want a constant support in this world and the only support most women are taught to see are men. What my mom believed was that the one solid, never changing fact was that her husband will always take care of her and her children (she said "This world will turn upside down but he can't leave me) and this idea formed the foundation of all that she was, of all that her life was based on. But that got taken away from her. Her foundations were destroyed.
Yet, she stood.
My mom stood when everything she believed in was destroyed. Her foundations crumpled and the earth was snatched away from underneath her feet. She was falling but still, she stood. Because she is a warrior.
My mom was thrown into a cold dark abyss (excuse the excessive use of figurative expression. I'm not trying to be dramatic, I just don't know how else to describe what she felt.) Have you ever thought that if you're falling down deep into darkness and all you're doing is falling, you can still stand straight? Can you even stand straight when you're falling? My mom did.
She fought so hard. I remember how when my parents got divorced we were going from here to there and there to here, hoping to find the support that is usually provided by the husband and father, but we couldn't find it anywhere. We were just gliding through the world because our home got taken away from us. I don't think many people have felt the feeling of being homeless. It's like this: in this world, you have one place you can always go to. The feeling of having nowhere to go to is homelessness. Can you imagine what my mom went through? A woman whose world had crashed and she had no place to go to and get the comfort she needed?
But my mom didn't curl up and sat still in shock of what just happened with her. Even in her shock she fought so hard. And damn she fought hard! I remember that she was still in disbelief but she just kept running around trying to make things work. Even when she had no clue about what was happening; when the terrible extent of how she had been thrown into the world hadn't fully set in (after living all her life under the supposed shelter of 'male protection'), and she was supposed to just sit and figure things out, she got up and fought. And she kept on doing it over and over again and did it with all her might. She kept on kicking and flinging her hands in the dark hoping that she would finally catch something and because she was trying so hard, Allah ji helped her and she found it. She found herself.
She did what is considered almost impossible: raising two girls all alone in this dirty man-dominated society.
My mom is the perfect combination. She has the courage of twenty men put together. Put fifty men in between her and me and my sister and she will rip every one of them apart to reach us. She is a lion in its truest, purest form. She has the mental strength of twice that of a normal human. What problems a man and a woman face together as husband and wife in this society, she faced alone. She went out and worked like a father would and she raised us right like a dutiful mother would.
Yes, I am proud of what I and my sister have turned out to be. My mom has raised us right. She raised us independent and she has raised us good. In one of my moodier insensible moods I complained to my mom that it's not fair how she taught us never to trust a man. Trusting is a luxury. It's a comfort of which we have been deprived. And she said she did this to make us strong. She did this so we don't have to depend on anyone, much less a man, like she was taught all her life. I couldn't disagree with her even in my insensible unreasonable moods.
So today, here we are.
I consider us the warrior family. My mom, the oldest wisest warrior queen (who still has the strength of fifty young warriors left in her despite her graying hair), taught me and my sister how to stand against the world and I am proud of how we stand. What me and my sister have managed to achieve in our lives, what we have learnt, what we have turned out to be, we have proven that we are the surviving warrior family - we are those who stand when we're not supposed to; when the world expects us to fall. We will protect each other at all cost because all we have is each other. We will stand together and fight because we are survivors of a battle which has bought out the warrior in us and it's not going anywhere.
Mom,
If you're reading this, I want you to know that I love you. And I can assure you that it's no ordinary child-loves-mom kind of love. It's the kind of love; okay I don't know how to describe it. I'm just so glad that my best friend is so amazing. You literally are the "first-one-I-talk-to-about-my-crush" kind of friend. You are the perfect person. You are my entire world worth of relationships in one body. You're my loving mother, you're my father, you're my bestest friend in the whole wide world, you are my soul-mate, you are the love of my life,  you're the only one I can ever trust this much in the world.
Whenever I face a problem, I think about what you, with your incredible strength, would have done. And that gives me the courage to overcome anything. I think if my mom could do it, so can I. If my mom can live like a man in this dirty world, so can I.
I'm just so scared that I won't be able to give you your due. I'm not just supposed to fulfill my duties towards you because you're my mom, but because you're also my dad and my brother and my second sister and my homie and my EVERYTHING! I owe you so much that I won't ever be able to fulfill all my responsibilities towards you. They say that what children owe to each of their parents separately, is what they can't repay them back in their lifetime. And you're both my parents in one body so what I owe you can't be returned even in fifty lifetimes. I am a bitch and I wish I wasn't. But mom, what can I do? You're the only one I love and trust so much to be bitchy with. My biggest fear is to hurt you. I pray to Allah ji with all my heart that I never hurt you. Because the day I do, is the day I am no longer a human.
So mom, with all my heart and soul and even more, I love and respect you. Because you're everything to me and even more.

Distinct Black Distinct White Makes It Grey

When we're young, we have such distinct ideas about what's 'good' and what's 'bad'. But when we grow up we realize that 'bad' has so many humanly attractions that if we embrace evil, it just makes us human. And no one minds being human.
Life is such a mystery na? We are humans, but we are supposed to fight against being completely human. Weird isn't it?

Living Fearless

What would it feel like to live fearlessly?
There would be no boundaries what so ever. No limitations to anything. Do what you want to. Do what you can. Because you can.
Dosage to a chaotic world is it not?

...Loving Allah ji

I've found my answer. We love humans because we need solid proof of being loved. Humans are in front of us, we can see them, feel them, touch them and be with them. They are the comfort that our eyes need.
Loving Allah ji is harder at first because you can't see Him. You need to find Him around you. He is not easily available. He can only be discovered by him who looks hard for Him and it's not easy to look for Him. We need a conviction to find Him. So it's easier to just love the material humans.
That's why I now understand that the singer wasn't really defying her basic human instinct. She just chose the harder way from the beginning and now that she has discovered Him, once we all do, we can't love anything more than Him. Because He is so complete.
The real catch is that once you discover Him then you can see Him, feel Him and be with Him all the time. He will be everywhere around you. The beginning is just a test when you are blindly supposed to look for Him. It's a test well rewarded if you find Him - the reward being the comfort of having Him with you all the time. There won’t be a single micromilli second when He will be separated from you. He becomes the perfect companion. He becomes He who is never away from you, who has the power to comfort you, who has the power to solve all your problems, who has the power to give you the strength to fight the problems, who loves you more than you can ever love yourself.
How can there be a better companion than Allah ji?

Loving Allah ji...

"Na mei Majnu,

Na mei Ranjha,

Na uljha mei mei wich ay zaata,

Teray dar tay a baitha wa,

Teray dar tay a baitha wa,

Ishq da chola pa baitha wa."

-Qurait-tul-lain Baloch's "Mera Ishq"

The singer says that she never felt love for humans like Majnu or Ranjha did. Neither did she ever feel any love for the status in this world. Allah ji was her only one and true love.

I envy her. To love Allah ji only is the most perfect thing. You love someone who is Eternal; Who is always there for you; Who is All Powerful; Who has control over everything. Yet, it's still not enough for us. Loving Allah ji is not enough for us. We desire humans. Humans who are so imperfect. Who  have control over absolutely nothing. Who are so temporary. Who are completely powerless. Who can be taken away from us in a split second. Loving humans is so unsafe. Loving Allah ji is so safe. Then why do we continue to want humans? Is because we are humans?

Maybe we want humans because if we didn't, this world wouldn't work. Wanting humans is a part of being human. It is our basic instinct. We will always pair up and congregate. But if this instinct is so strong, what is singer talking about? How is she defying her basic natural instincts?

But still, the way I see it, loving only Allah ji is the easy way. Loving humans is hard.

Yet we continue to love humans. Why is that?

The Moment: 1

When you have been creating fail documents for a very long time and are used to pressing the "Don't Save" button. Then you spend a large amount of your precious time and finally create the perfect document and are so damn close to pressing the "Don't Save" button again. Miraculously, you end up pressing the "Save" button. But in  the next few moments  you realize the momentous mistake you could have made and the shock of what could have happened is so overbearing that you start writing a blog-post about it and wonder how people will react to it because seriously, it doesn't really happen that often.

The Energy In My Bones

Blood on my knuckles,

I spat some too,

I jumped up and down,

While the crowd screamed BOO!

He was crouched on the floor,

 Hurt to the core,

I was basking in glory,

Of how I was covered in gore.

I look up to the crowd,

I establish my bravery,

But I get punched so hard,

I fall heavily.

Breath knocked out,

My vision all blurry,

I try to defend myself,

By my opponent is in a hurry.

It’s a hailstorm of kicks,

It’s snowing punches,

I kick his knees,

He contorts and hunches.

His moment of pain,

Is his moment of shame,

His moment of weakness,

Is my ultimate gain.

I aim for the neck,

I slap the artery,

The shock stuns him,

The crowd swears heartily.

I grab his face,

And shove my knee into it,

I break his nose,

His mouth too bit by bit.

He resigns ultimately,

And falls on the floor,

I accept my victory,

But still need some more.

Desires

My desire to become a doctor may be greater than any of my other desires, but I do not like how I am being forced to live just one life. I want to experience other things too. I want to live in other spheres of life as well. Is that possible? If not, then why not? Why can't I explore my other talents if I have them?
Is it because we can't have everything in life?
Or maybe I should just be patient. I'll experience everything in it's own good time.


Just A Colourful Ending =3

The Dissected Frog

I guess the title says it all. We dissected a frog today in our biology practical.

Here's what happened.

This is me getting excited about being a surgeon using a scalpel and tweezers and scissors oh-so-efficiently.
This is me noticing that my frog's abdomen is moving.
This is me noticing that my frog's abdomen is moving more rapidly.
This is me further noticing that the movements of his exposed lungs and heart have become quite vigorous.
This is me strongly believing that our frogs have just been cholorofoamed and aren't really dead.
This is me JUMPING BACK IN SURPRISE BECAUSE MY FROG JUST JUMPED AND TURNED AROUND AND NOW I'M WATCHING HIM TRYING TO ESCAPE WITH ALL HIS INTERNAL ORGANS FLOWING OUT!

I can't believe we dissect live frogs! I thought we were cutting up dead ones.
And I just read that frogs do feel pain.

It doesn't end here. The lab assistant cholorofoamed the frog again. And I restarted my dissection. By the end of the period I made some serious incisions in his heart because I didn't want him to stay alive but as I moved away HE TURNED AND JUMPED AGAIN! He tried to attempt his last escape but then his ordeal ended. And he moved no more.

A TRIBUTE TO THE DISSECTED FROG

Froggy,
I met you today and let's just say I could see deep within you just a few moments after we met. Literally. You were so interesting. And so strong! You were the only one who resisted so hard. Every time you were choloroformed, you came back again. You fought really hard. I'm really sorry I had to puncture your heart like that to make you go to the eternal state of hibernation but I really didn't know how else to end your ordeal. I hope we're good. I'm not sad about dissecting you so there is no point of me faking it. I really didn't mind looking inside you. I guess I'm just thankful because if it weren't for you, I would not have known how badly I wanted to become a doctor. I lost sight of my aim for a while. But then you came along and I knew that I wanted to be a doctor. That's what I have REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted all along. It's weird how it's not only the people in your life who can change you or motivate you. Sometimes it's something simple. Like you Froggy. So Thank You for that.

Imprisoned

The sun was obscured by the clouds but the escaping rays reminded Sarah of its presence. They gave the cloud a silver lining. Exhausted and lying down on the bed her legs still dangling from the bedside underneath the window, with her biology book in her hands, she looked out. She could hear children playing outside laughing, screaming, light as feathers. And all of a sudden she had had enough. She sat up angrily and the book, which was being ignored for the past five minutes, fell into her lap. The weight of it reminded her of its presence and she looked down. It was almost like an angry revelation made her realize that this book was the source of her misery right now. She stood up even more angrily grabbing the book simultaneously; she tossed it away with disgust. It hit the cupboard and fell open. Sarah rushed past it, yanked the door open and ran down the stairs, angry energy emanating from her like heat.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she turned right, crossed the hall and entered the TV lounge where her mom was bending down on her little sister. She looked up in alarm and relaxed a little when she saw Sarah standing on the door arms crossed, grimacing.

“Break time darling? Do you want something to eat?”

Sarah looked at her mom,

“YOU KNOW WHAT’S NOT FAIR? THAT WE HAVE TO STUDY ALL THE TIME. IT’S JUST NOT FAIR. WHY THE FUCK DO WE HAVE TO SIT AND SIT AND SIT AND SIT ALL THE FUCKING TIME? WHY CAN’T I GO OUT AND FUCKING PLAY LIKE A REAL KID? I’M YOUNG WHY AM I NOT ALLOWED TO USE MY FUCKING MUSCLES TO RUN AROUND? WHAT USE ARE MY FUCKING YOUNG MUSCLES WHEN I JUST HAVE TO SIT ALL THE FUCKING DAY AND STUDY? I WANT TO RUN AND PLAY AND JUMP AND SCREM AND CRY AND YELL AND FIGHT BUT I CAN’T DO THAT! YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I HAVE TO FUCKING.STUDY.ALL.THE.TIME.”

Her mom looked at her with a mixture of alarmed surprise and disapproval. Her baby sister had forgotten Barney and was looking at the new source of this loud noise with interest, her chubby little fists suspended in mid air along with the red heart shaped spoon held by her mother which was about to make its way into her mouth. Her mother straightened but the spoon was still suspended,

“Darling maybe you should take a…”

“HAVE YOU SEEN THE WEATHER OUTSIDE? HAVE YOU? IT’S WINDY. IT’S FUCKING WINDY AND CLOUDY AND IT’S FUCKING PERFECT. YOU KNOW WHAT YOURE SUPPOSED TO DO IN WEATHER LIKE THIS? ENJOY IT. FUCKING ENJOY IT. YOURE SUPPOSED TO LIE DOWN ON THE GRASS AND LOOK UP AND ADMIRE NATURE. BUT NO. WE’RE SUPPOSED TO FUCKING IGNORE EVERYTHING THAT WOULD MAKE US HAPPY AND LOOK AT WORDS TELLING US WHAT THE WEATHER OUTSIDE LOOKS LIKE. WE’RE SUPPOSED TO READ HOW THE FUCKING CLOUDS ARE MADE BUT WE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FUCKING ENJOY THEM. WE’RE SUPPOSED TO READ FUCKING EDGAR ALLAN POE DESCRIBE THE PERFECT WEATHER BUT WE ARE NOT FUCKING SUPPOSED TO SEE AND FEEL THE PERFECT WEATHER OURSELVES SO WE CAN WRITE ABOUT IT TOO. NO WHY SHOULD WE DO THAT? OBVIOUSLY LEARING ABOUT FUCKING CHROMOSOMES IS GOING TO HELP ME IN LIFE RATHER THAN GOING OUT AND OBSERVING HOW ALL HUMANS ARE DIFFERENT BECAUSE OF DIFFERENT CHROMOSOMAL PATTERNS. THIS FUCKING STUDYING KILLS OUR CREATIVITY. IT KILLS EVERYTHING THAT MAKES US HUMANS.  IT IS TURNING US INTO ROBOTS!  MINDLESS WITH LOADS OF USELESS INFORMATION”

Sarah’s mom was looking at her patiently. Now it was Sarah’s turn to feel a little embarrassed. She did use fucking quite a lot. SO FUCKING WHAT? NOW I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE FUCKING RIGHT TO EXPRESS MY FEELINGS? She crossed the room and slumped on the sofa quite a distance away from her mother and her baby sister. Arms still crossed she started glaring at Barney running around singing songs about happiness.

Amna resumed waving her tiny hands in mid air. Her mom dipped the spoon in the porridge bowl and put it on the table some distance away from Amna so she wouldn’t knock it down. She then walked over to Sarah, sat next to her and wrapped her arms around her. Sarah rested her head on her mom’s shoulders and unwillingly, angry tears made their way across her face.

“It’s not fair. Why am I being forced to do something I don’t want to?”

Her mom tried to soothe her,

“It’s for your own good darling.”

Sarah abruptly removed her head from her mother’s shoulder and sat up straight. Her nerve had been tweaked again. She was struggling to remain calm even though her tear-stained face was red again and her voice was trembling,

“It’s not for my own good. What would have been good for me was if everything was balanced. If I could work physically and mentally both, at the same time, that would have been good for me. What the hell is wrong with you adults? You think studying this much is good for us? You think our main aim in life should be to study? THAT WE SHOULD NOT ENJOY OUR FUCKING LIFE AND JUST STUDY IN THE HOPES THAT IT WILL DO US SOME GOOD? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW? I FEEL SO FUCKING TRAPPED. I FEEL LIKE I’M IN A FUCKING PRISON AND ITS SO FUCKING SMALL THAT I CAN’T FUCKING EVEN MOVE MY BODY I’M SO TRAPPED IN ALL THIS. DON’T YOU GET IT? IT’S LIKE FUCKING TORTURE TO ME. I WANT TO RUN AND JUMP AND SCREAM SO BAD AND I CAN’T DO THAT. I’M BEING FORCED INTO CAGING MYSELF BECAUSE MY VERY CONSIDERATE ELDERS TELL ME THAT IS WHAT IS GOOD FOR ME. I’M NOT HAPPY MOM! WHY DON’T I HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE HAPPY? IT’S NOT FAIR. WHY CAN’T STUDYING BE BALANCED WITH ENJOYMENT? YOU KNOW WE ALL WOULD BE HAPPY IF WE COULD STUDY AND DO OTHER THINGS TOO! WE WOULD STUDY BETTER IF WE HAD THE TIME TO ENJOY OURSELVES TOO! IF WE HAD TIME TO EXPRESS OUR SELVES! IF WE HAD TIME TO UNDERSTAND AND THINK ABOUT OURSELVES AND OTHERS AROUND US! YOU DON’T GIVE US ANY TIME TO THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE!”

Her temper had gotten the worst of her and she hadn’t even realized that she was standing and screaming at her mom with her little sister’s full attention. She was breathing rapidly. Her adrenaline was pumping her up so she started walking in the room. To and fro. To and fro.

“It’s just not fair. No mom. Tell me why can’t we study a little less and also enjoy our lives? Why are we given the ultimatum that we can either study OR we can enjoy our lives? Why can’t we do both? Why can’t we enjoy our lives in the age when we actually CAN enjoy our lives?

To and fro. To and fro.

“It’s not at all fair. I don’t want this kind of life. Spend your entire youth buried in books suppressing your energies killing your excitement and spend your adulthood worrying about other things. You adults just absolutely love to complain how young people are not using their energies for the right causes and you don’t even give us a chance to prove you wrong. Why won’t you let us express our energies? Why don’t you give us an outlet? Why do you force us to channel them in the wrong direction?”

She stopped and looked at her mom beseechingly hoping that she would have answers. She SHOULD have answers. She is one of those adults who are so busy making sure that Pakistani education yields absolutely no rewards by making the students more knowledgeable and also, that the students don’t spend a moment of their lives doing anything else but wasting their time studying.

“Darling you do know you don’t have to study if you don’t want to right?”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? OFCOURSE I HAVE TO STUDY! I WANT GOOD GRADES MOM AND YOU CANNOT GET GOOD GRADES IF YOU DON’T STUDY! ARE YOU SERIOUSLY KIDDING ME? EVEN IF I DO DECIDE TO TAKE A BREAK MOST OF THAT BREAK WILL BE SPENT WORRYING ABOUT HOW I’M NOT STUDYING! THAT’S NOT RELAXING! AND IT’S NOT BECAUSE I LIKE WORRYING MOM IT’S BECAUSE I HAVE NO OTHER OPTION! EVERY FRIGGIN YEAR IT GETS TOUGHER AND TOUGHER AND ALL YOU ADULTS DO IS PROUDLY TELL PEOPLE HEY ITS GETTING TOUGHER AND TOUGHER BUT MY KID GOT SUCH GOOD GRADES. IT’S ALL ABOUT THE GOOD GRADES ISN’T IT? WHO CARES IF WE ARE ATTAINING KNOWLEDGE? EVERYONE JUST WANTS GOOD GRADES SO WE HAVE TO RUN AFTER THEM BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT WE HAVE BEEN TRAINED TO DO ALL OUR LIVES! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH OF OURSELVES WE HAVE TO KILL TO GET GOOD GRADES? WE KILL OUR IDEAS MOM! WE KILL OUR IDEAS OF FUN, OF ENJOYMENT, OF WANTING TO BE HAPPY, FOR STUPID STUDIES. WE KILL OUR CREATIVITY! WHO CARES IF YOU CAN WRITE POEMS AS GOOD AS STUPID JOHN KEATS HIMSELF? NO YOU SHOULD JUST CONTAIN YOURSELVES TO STUDYING JOHN KEATS’ POEMS! AND INSTEAD OF MAKING IT EASIER FOR US YOU MAKE IT EVEN MORE DIFFICULT. AND IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE BEING GIVEN SOME HIGHLY TECHNICAL EDUCATION WHICH WILL HELP MOULD OUR BRAINS TO THINK CRITICALLY! ITS PURE ULTIMATE SHIT! THE MOMENT WE ARE DONE WITH OUR EXAMS WE FORGET EVERYTHING BECAUSE IT’S JUST NOT USEFUL! ITS PURE UTTER USELESS CRAP! WE’RE BEING TRAINED TO NOT QUESTION WHAT WE ARE LEARNING! HOW CAN WE REMEMBER SOMETHING WE DON’T THINK IS USEFUL FOR US? YOU THINK IT’S A GOOD THING THAT KINTERGARDEN STUDENTS ARE BEING FORCED TO STUDY ALL DAY? DO YOU THINK IT’S RIGHT TO FORCE SO MUCH ON THE KIDS THAT THEY EVEN FORGET HOW TO PLAY?”

Her mom returned her glare with a calm look.

“Sorry honey, it’s not just you who has been through it. Everyone has. I have. This is just the way it is.”

“Oh wow! Excellent mom absolutely brilliant. So basically I’m supposed to suffer like this because that’s what everyone has gone through. Can you even hear yourself? You talk about “getting through” studies! You’re not supposed to “get through” your studies mom! You are supposed to learn something! You’re supposed to enjoy learning! This is sick. You know it’s wrong and all you can say is that I have to go through with it because everyone does. You won’t even do anything about it. You should hear my teachers talk about it. All they can say is “Oh what can I do? The “System” is wrong! Well guess what? YOU ARE THE SYSTEM! HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT? HOW CAN YOU BE SO BLIND? You adults are always trying to blame it on the system. So you would be spared the necessity of actually getting up and doing some repairs. You’re what is wrong with this society. All you can teach your children is that they should go along with everything because everyone goes along with it. You make me sick.”

Sarah concluded and slumped on the sofa again at a little distance from her mom.

Darling you know you have the freedom to do whatever you want I’ve never stopped you from doing anything.”

Sarah remained silent still breathing heavily. She resumed after a little pause, her voice cracked from screaming.

“I know mom. I know you let me do stuff. But I don’t have time to do stuff! I want time to do stuff! Don’t you get it? First I study seven hours in school then I come home and I have to study again because seven hours isn’t enough for the amount of things we study at school! I have to study at home too I have to revise and I keep studying and studying and studying until there is no time left to do anything else. And If I don’t study I won’t get good grades mom! Don’t you see how I’m stuck here? I want to get good grades and I want time to enjoy myself why can’t I do both? Even the weekends aren’t spared! Weekends are supposed to be relaxing but our teachers think they are doing us a great favor by giving us tests on Mondays. So we can study “easily” during the weekend. There is no such thing as studying easily okay? Its studies! Why do they think they are doing us a favor? It’s NOT a favor. They are making us study when we don’t have to; when we are not required to. Don’t you see how they have trapped us? There is no escape! All you can do is study study study and nothing else! You adults are creating mindless zombies who can’t handle real life because we are not even given a chance to experience real life! ”

Silence pervaded the room. Now the sky was cloudless and the sun shone again through the windows. It was steadily getting hot. Outside, the playful voices started dying out. Everyone started seeking refuge in the shade. Sarah’s mom kept sitting silently. Amna kept yelping playfully. And Sarah kept expecting her mom to give a reasonable explanation for why she has to go back to her room and study.

Silence.

Slowly, Sarah got up, left the lounge, climbed the stairs and entered her room. The biology book was still lying there. Open. Supposedly welcoming Sarah to come and seek knowledge within. Sarah picked up the book and sat down on her bed.

        Robert Whittaker’s five kingdom classification of living things…

Because there was no other option.

Thy Shall Not Be Selfless!

I firmly believe (for now) that humans cannot be self-less. We do not have the capability to care for others by putting ourselves at discomfort. So behind every selfless action is selfishness.

If we feed the poor, we do so to satisfy ourselves. A mother tends to her child’s needs because if she doesn’t, she will be the one in discomfort. We love God because we believe He is our sole protector and He is the only One who can truly help us. We perform good deeds to either please our God or please humans.

Will we feed the poor if we get no satisfaction from it? Will a mother tend to her child if she did not have that special link with her child, that nature has bestowed her with, which puts her in discomfort if her child is in discomfort? Will we love God if He gave us nothing? Will we perform good deeds if we knew there will be no reward for our efforts?

So basically we all are selfish. But the miracle is that resulting circumstances of our actions are projected in such a way that we can even do others good by acting on this vice. So what really matters is how our actions affect others. Being selfish is something that we cannot stop. But we can be careful at how we’re being selfish. Because we have a choice. We can either be selfish and hurt others, or we can be selfish by doing others some good.

Jus sayin.

What We Owe To Each Other

We like being the independent “I”. But maybe we’re nothing “I”.  Maybe we’re something “all borrowed”.   Everything we do, everything we say, everything we feel is a projection of everything we’ve seen. From the day we are born till the day we die our brain captures, processes, projects. Captures, processes, projects. Captures, processed, projects. Even if we form new ideas, we do it from pre-existing ideas that belonged to someone else and those ideas too belonged to someone else. Everything we are we owe it to everyone else. Which is why I think it’s unreasonable of anyone to say that they are “self-made”. Which is also why I cannot say that I wrote this article. Because it’s not only mine to claim. It belongs to everyone I have ever interacted with. It belongs to them because if I had not interacted with them I would not have captured all these thoughts and ideas and would not have processed and projected them.

What I’m trying to say is, whatever I am right now, I am because of everyone in my life. My mommy, my sister, my friends, my friend’s parents, my teachers, my acquaintances, the random people who gave me passing remarks, people who dislike me EVERYONE. Thank you. Really.  

"HI MOM! LOOK I'M ON TV!"

Once upon a time, when I used to read the names of all these great Women and Men (yes I’m a feminist) that are given in our textbooks and I used to think Wow! These Women and Men lived like a billion years ago and we still remember them. But no sir. I’m totally okay with not being remembered after I am long gone. Ah who am I kidding?

We are constantly waging a war against society by trying to prove that we are different. That we are something special. In fact, I think that if an alien comes to our planet to understand human life, we would like nothing better than our president to disdainfully wave his hands at the general population and say “These are humans” and then turn to us and say “And this is something exquisite”

But the real question is, are we really special? Or are we just like one of the stars in a galaxy? There are so many stars and we look in wonder at the cluster of them without bothering to distinguish any individually?

Okay lets work with the Cluster theory. We look at stars but they all are so different.

Some are bright,

Some are shiny,

Some are big,

Some are tiny.

(And yeah I was writing a sentence and I figured that it rhymed so I turned it into a poem) So all stars are different and applying that analogy to humans I think all humans are different too. But the stars have been there for almost forever and their differences can be noticed forever but we can’t be there forever. I think that’s what scares us the most. It’s also what makes us do the weirdest things. Such as discovering protons.

But why do we make such a fuss about being different all the time? Why talk about ‘wanting to be remembered’ in the first paragraph and then switching to ‘trying to be different’ in the second paragraph? My theory is that we try to be different because we want to be remembered. And also because English grammar rules state that to introduce two different ideas you have to make two different paragraphs.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting to be remembered forever. Maybe, it’s just a byproduct of basic human instincts. We are tuned to propagate our species. This tuning has refined itself to the want of propagating our ideas as humans evolved and our brains became more complex. We want to propagate our ideas. We want to propagate ourselves. We want to continue. We want to be infinite.

We are scared that we will end up being just one of the numerous names on the graveyard slabs everyone passes by without giving a second thought to. And we like being given a second thought to. We know we will soon be forgotten. Unless you discover a proton or something (but too late it’s already been discovered). So what we do is that we try our best to be different. Because we know that being different will help us be remembered and we want the world to know and remember who we are. We don’t want to live meaningless lives which will soon be forgotten.

My conflict is how can we all be so same and yet so different?

Elastic girl: “Honey, Everyone is different.”

Her Son: “Which is another way of saying no one is.”

(Courtesy of “The Incredibles”. Not the exact dialogues but I guess they mean more or less the same)

I’ll try to explain it to myself with an example. All my friends are so different and yet so equally important. Every friend of mine has this distinguishing characteristic. This special personality. I see a little bit of myself in all of them which is why I think we understand each other so well. Because if you put all my friends together like a jigsaw puzzle they will form this big picture and that big picture is me. They complete me (Yes I did a major eye roll when I wrote that). So, if my friends are like me and I am like them, how are we different? Are we even different? Yes. Despite all the similarities, we all are very different. I think it’s the beauty of being human. We are the same species but each of us have a different genetic code, different finger print, different ideas, different thoughts, different almost everything. And yet, we understand each other because we have so much in common as well. So what I’m trying to say is that all of us are very different. We’re a bunch of difference which is different in being different.

So we all are a little jigsaw piece in someone’s life. But the problem is, some of the more ambitious of us don’t want to be just a jigsaw piece in someone’s life. We want to be THE jigsaw piece in someone’s life. Some of us don’t want to be the kind of different that only people around us understand (ungrateful little …, unfortunately, I am one of them). Because then, when we die, our legend dies when the people who know us die. And we don’t want to die. We want to be remembered like Quaid-e-Azam or Alexander the Great or Hitler. In textbooks, in history, in memories of little kids of the future. We want to be remembered forever. Like the stars. And I now notice that even when I used to think I’m okay not being remembered, it was maybe just an attempt to be different from everyone else.

So the fact of life is, even though we accept death as the ultimate destination in our lives, we still believe in immortality.

P.S Somewhere along the way, I started thinking I’m special, I deserve better and everyone owes me more than I owe them. I’m sorry that I thought all those things. Because I’m less more special than certain people around me (ooo now I'm special because I'm less special) whom I’ve managed to hurt and because I hurt people so often, I owe them WAYYY MOREE than they owe me. I’m really sorry for being such a pretentious weirdo. There is a danger that I might start doing that again and I hope that when that time comes you can kick me and forgive me.

The Thrill

It's SO EXCITING to post stuff =D The moment I pressed "Publish" I felt this weird ecstatic thrill of starting something exciting. I'll start by reposting some of my stuff. Ah. Time to press the "Publish" button again =') *excited*

Must We Go Through The Formalities Of Introductions?

So I wrote the title making sure it seems oh-so-formal with each word starting from a capital letter. Kind of works doesn't it? 

Here is why I am so excited about getting started:

1. It's SO RELIEVING to write

2. It feels good to be heard

3. It feels great to know that your readers felt exactly what you felt while writing your piece

4. I'm currently doing my FSc and I've been told that one of the reasons I might not have gotten the best grades in English is because I might have used "superfluous" English so I'm going to bring my level a notch down in class. But I really don't want to lose my grasp over English so I'll practice here. The funny thing is that maybe you think I'm being sarcastic but I really am not. It really is happening to me. More on that later.

P.S Colours are fun =3