Posts in Family & Personal

Hello! How Have You Been?

Hola Everyone!

Long time no see – literally. I haven’t spoken to anyone out here since December 2018 and what a year it was. I am back (indefinitely) and before I venture out in the world yet again, let’s catch-up; playback to 2018.

2018 started out just fine, work was flourishing, family drama was on-point and I was hitting all the right marks with my TBR pile and then lo and behold, Mom’s ear infection turned my world upside down.

2018: Vertigo Takes Over

The infection turned into vertigo and in August of 2018, I took a sabbatical from my full-time job and opted to work on a single project so I could stay at home and take care of her and my baby brother (not so baby anymore, he is turning 22 this year, touchwood). It wasn’t all that bad, I was making enough to sustain my household and yet I was with Mom 24/7 – that particular part made it all worth it.

In early November, a phone call came along and I was just about ready for the ride of a life time. My mentor asked me to come back and work a new product and of course I said yes. And the rest is history, well not technically because I didn’t document any part of it.

2019: Ready to Pop Out

2019 just flew by, Mom was feeling great, I was heavily + happily pregnant with my new baby and things on the relationship front were finally settling in. I took a step back from my personal writing especially because I spent the better part of my day, documenting every single thing my Development Department did or did not do. I clearly made a mess of my blog, which you can still witness on my homepage, feel free to browse around and not make sense of it at all.

2020: Buggy Software

Now that more than 20% of global population is on a lockdown, I have found the time to revive my blog and continue to speak to you beautiful people through ‘my words’…Ahhh I love the sound of: Myyyyyy Wordsss….

See you soon!

DEAR DIARY – Happy Birthday Anas!

25 years ago, a blob of pink flesh with an infectious smile and the biggest heart invaded my peaceful suburban household (I named him “Anas” by the way). My parents told me, I now have a Baby Brother, he will be a lifelong friend to me. They were wrong!

He turned out to be my best friend, a confidante, my biggest supporter, my wall, and my Liverpool companion, who taught me everything I know about Art, Photography, Football and Music. If he was here today, he would have been extremely judgmental of my recent, life choices. Strike that! He would have stopped me at the right time.

Dear Anas,

I miss you telling me about music I cannot tolerate, art I don’t understand and goals that just seem impossible.

It is incredibly easy to breakdown and cry every time you cross my mind but it is easier to feel proud of the legacy you left behind. Your art, your paintings, your sketchbook, your camera, your photographs, your friends and everyone you’ve touched with kindness and your generosity, reminds me of just how important it is to be simply a good human being. Thank you for being “You”!

I hope you and Pa are taking good care of each other. I am doing my best to take care of Mom and Areeb but it isn’t much fun without being able to whine about it all at the end of day, hovering over your workstation in your room whilst you completely ignore me, and play FIFA and finally ask me to leave when you say: “Sis you talk too much”. And Happy Birthday my little one!

P.S. Whenever I do something stupid, Areeb goes: Sis, Bobo is judging you right now. And somehow I just know that you are me giving your signature “Seriously” eyebrow arch at that very moment.

Love, Sis!

For those of you wondering, we are Ana, Anas and Areeb but we gave extremely, personalized nicknames to each other as well, Bebo, Bobo and Baby respectively.

My Baby Brother Turns 23!

 
This is the last photograph I shared with Syed Muhammad Anas Uddin…And perhaps one of the only few where we all three are in the same frame. My Baby Brothers and Mom were headed to a distant relative wedding, and as always I chose to stay back and read. Both my brothers were dressed in their best/favorite suits and looking nothing short of handsome hunks. And I cannot even begin to express how much I adore this photograph. My Sir says I am practically glowing from inside here and he can literally feel the love. Today, my baby brother Anas would have turned 23 today and about to graduate in less than 6 months. Two years ago he left us cause he did not wish to lead a life of dependency, well at least that’s what I tell myself all the time, every time I start to question my acts/choices of June 17, 2014. Nonetheless we return to all that “he is in a better place” jazz and not that I am refuting against it but sometimes you just don’t want to buy all the ‘silver lining’ and would prefer to mourn your way and on your terms. And on some days that’s the only choice you have not because you are ‘helpless’, ‘unhappy’ or ‘defenseless’ but because that’s the only thing that makes sense. Yes, sometimes the only logical explanation is to ‘mourn’. Mourning does not necessarily mean you are miserable, or the fact that you cannot move on…sometimes mourning is just the ‘new normal’. And it does not always surface in terms of tears, sadness or denial…many a times it is just what you do to embrace the truth and get through each day. Other times it feels as if nothing happened you continue to deal with the shenanigans of your life, triumph at work, and ace your personal life and that one-heart-wrenching-truth remains isolated at the corner of your mind where it gradually eats you from inside yet continues to feed your ambitions for you and your family. It does not mean you are pretending to be happy, it means you have accepted the ‘New Normal…now this is your life and you have accepted it. You would have definitely preferred otherwise but you did not rebel in vain…you have learned to accept the fate and have developed a tolerance against the heartache. It shows in your eyes many a times but also helps you conceal when needed. It makes you neither a coward nor a wonder woman…it simply makes you human. And being human is so much easy and viable. I mean you don’t have to “invest” any further!

 

And you know the best part of being human? I can choose to be happy or I can choose to be sad whenever I want. I can choose to celebrate my book club’s anniversary and dance the night away or I can choose to type out a long post on Facebook on my late brother’s birthday. Isn’t this amazing? That feeling when no one on earth can define your happiness into brackets? When no one can pass on a judgement or a verdict on your state of mind? I know this post was supposed to be about my brother but I have lost two of the three men in my life and it obviously does not come easy but instead of whining about the bloody paycheck, the unreasonable pimple, or the whining peer…today I choose to tell myself that today it is okay to talk about pain and relief instead. Next time someone attempts to define your pain, kindly ask them to go fuck themselves.

 

Anas was totally fine with me using the F word and he often told me to use the word more so here I am on his birthday using the word probably the second time and I feel great. And you know what, I chose today to vent out and so I did…that’s the one of the things I shared with Anas, he called me his ‘Talks-too-much Sis’ and here I am doing just that.
I miss you Anas, every single day and every day I find a new reason to cherish the time I spent with you. You have left behind a legacy of friends, family, art and your music library (that I still don’t understand). Like each year, I ask you to return home if possible but knowing that you are rocking out with Pa does provide some degree of comfort (probably the only degree). I bought your favorite painting this month and I wish you were here to oggle at it and explain me the strokes, the colors and the theories which as always I would never get. Your friends say, Areeb is looking more and more like you with each passing day and even though I notice the similarities, on-face I tell him, Naaa you don’t look like Bobo which he also knows is just a bunch of Boohaki. Mom doesn’t say a word but we all know how she feels…she lived through Pa leaving us but when you left…you took away Mom too…she continues to say that you were the best child she had…And Areeb and I still have to hear lectures on your ‘goody-goody-two-shoe-ness’ but deep down I adore it when she tells me to be more like you. You know the other day, I met one of your friends at a public place and you know what he said: “App Anas Ki Sis Hain Naa…”
You cannot even begin to comprehend the extend of my bliss…to be known as your Sis…is something I consider one of my biggest achievements. And yes I continue to brag about your artistic and architectural skills to everyone I meet! Thank you for coming into my life and teaching me what it takes to be a Sister…the greatest relationship I have ever experienced.
Lot’s of Love and Talks,
Your Talks-too-Much Sis.

Perpetually Petrified.

Perpetually petrified.

I am a yellow-belly.

Am a scardy-cat.

A total wimp!

A friend of mine recently told me that I happen to be the most chicken-hearted person he has met. Not that it brought any news to me but it got me thinking. Was I always this scared or am I at the ‘liberty’ to blame my ‘situation’ for such a state of mind. May be I have always been like so, I mean, I remember waking up to nightmares since I was 7 something. O! Wait isn’t that an entirely different kind of scared?

For as long as I remember, I have never been afraid to speak my mind, getting my own way or fighting for what I believe in. Does that count?

Do I have to be brave at work or just in my personal life?

Does winning a mighty contract at the hands of wicked-men count for something?

Or being courageous is only about having the nerve to tell life to just fuck off…?

I am scared of heights.

I have never been able to use a diving board.

I cannot do a horror movie.

I panic easy.

My brothers easily freak me out with minimal efforts.

Even complete strangers on motorbikes without helmets manage to leave me jittery.

I am frightened at the very concept of losing a loved one.

Does being brave involve one to take risks? My father always said: Business is nothing but a risky race. And if you sit on the sidelines…someone is going to beat you to the finishing line.

Did my friend mean the same?

Am I too comfortable in my life to take risks?

Am I frightened to even imagine a different kind of existence?

Am I spineless?

You know what may be he was right. I mean, I cannot possibly imagine thinking of messing up situation any further. But what I don’t understand is how on earth, am I going to come across as bold and daring by putting someone else in danger…???

For the last few years, my extended family has bestowed a certain title upon me; lovingly call me – stone-hearted. And just because I didn’t cry at my father’s funeral or my brother’s for that matter.

Was I supposed to breakdown and cry right in the middle of my mother losing consciousness and brothers returning from the graveyard? And if I didn’t – means I did not love my father enough. Were my dry eyes a sign of my cowardice?

Was unplugging my brother from his life support an out and out act of horror-struck? Was I losing my wits? Should I have done something like tell the doctors to fuck off and perhaps extended his existence on earth? Would have that made me fearless?

I just don’t understand what do I have to do to be courageous? Risk it all??? Would that help??? But I don’t have much to put at stake and does that permit me to put the remaining half of my family at a possible threat?

See even here; all I can do is present possible excuses instead of just shutting up and taking the plunge! I am just trying to understand the reason behind it all. I used to be this spontaneous and adventurous girl drive entirely on the ratio of adrenaline in her body. I was always and forever open to experimenting and I don’t recall shying away from a ‘situation’ (If you know what I mean). Then why now? Am I getting too old for the action? (Did I just blame my age for my actions? Okay, I do have problems). But seriously does age actually stop you from being a madcap? Or is it just another excuse?

You know as far as I understand this; perhaps the reason is fairly simple. I am driven on my emotions now as opposed to my wits as earlier. But does that truly make me a paper tiger?

I will perhaps continue to be a “phatoo” (as he puts it) but I know one thing for sure…I refuse to go down without a fight. And if it’s any consolation – my dramatic hand gestures always manage to pull me back.

My Resolutions for the Year 2016

Good Evening Everyone!

My new year typically starts from my birthday (January 14) just something I have believed in for a very long time. And every year a few hours before my birthday, I establish my resolutions for the rest of the year. Normally they consist of my personal and professional goals like becoming a published author or a world famous publicist or even manipulating Steven Gerrard into having an extra martial affair with me. But let’s get real; as long as I am alive and breathing in this society, I am never ever getting one of those. Chauvinist males, and worried mothers will never permit me to go further in my career and Alex Gerrard is way too hot to cheat on! So this year, I’ve decided to keep it relatively simple.

Here we go folks…

10) Get married.

09) Tie the knot.

08) Get hitched.

07) Jump the broom.

06) Say ‘I Do’.

05) Walk down the aisle.

04) Get spliced.

03) Go ball and chain.

02) Make it legal.

01) To read as many books as I possibly can before all the above. (You never know who you’ll end up with).

I am going to put my heart and soul into sticking to my resolutions and I hope you do too with yours.

P.S – Don’t feel too bad for me. Many girls in my country don’t even know the difference between a ‘wedding’ and ‘marriage’. Most of them don’t know how to spell this life-long voyage.

Cheers!

10 Things Women should Know in Late 20s

Do Selfies seem silly to you? And yet your Instagram feed is quite glamorous?

Do you despise men and their antics? Yet treat yourself with a shopping spree around Valentine’s Day?

Are you just settling in your career? And yet doubt your current job?

Chances are you are in your late 20s!

Meg Jay, a clinical psychologist explains your 20s in her book as ‘The Defining Decade’ where you are caught somewhere between responsibility and experimentation. Perhaps the most significant decade of your life as the choices you make here not only craft your future but design your entire existence for as long as you live.

However this does not mean that you avoid self-exploration or your shot at happiness. In fact the late 20s define who you really are as opposed to your image during the university years. Allow me to share with you all, my wisdom of all my years as a working woman in her 20s. I am pretty wisdomist! *Joey Style* =D

I am for one amongst those many ladies, who are not girls anymore and not yet women and there are a few things that you should know by the time you reach the big three-O!

Dress to your Heart – Not what People think Looks Good
You already know that you are too old for glitter and bubblegum pink but it is time for you to stock your wardrobe with pieces you find appealing. What other people think looks good on you has nothing to do with reality. Stick to your taste. And stick to what makes you feel good and beautiful. The ones who disagree probably spent their last weekend all dolled up for a movie theatre! (Jeez people! Grow up! High heels, open tresses and Russian red lippies for the cinema? Sheessshhhh!)

Be Fearless – Fight for your Right
You might not succeed each time but its high time you stand up for what you believe in! Whether it’s a raise or a pet, you need to make sure people know you are not hiding behind a comfortable cubicle anymore. If you are ready to take on the world, you first need to ensure you are not part of the crowd.

Quit a Job you cannot Stand
By now you know the difference between a difficult boss and a fucking psycho boss. Trust your gut and make an informed decision based on your experience and interest. Instead of giving up, maneuver your life in the right direction and believe me when I say, you’ll know your true calling!

Learn to Spend Wisely and Save Along the Way
You do not have to be a financial expert to start saving and it can always start with even the change at the bottom of your bag. Do not empty your bank account each month, or perhaps hold back the next time there is a sale at Khaadi or Sana Safinaz. You need to know life is unpredictable and even a hundred bucks sometimes can prove to be life-saving. (If you have no idea what I am talking about then you are obviously NOT a working woman in Pakistan.)

Treat your Temple Right
You have already done everything you can to strain your body; it’s time to avoid any permanent damage. Remember the body you have…is the only body you get. So treat it nice, eat healthy, avoid late nights, make water your new best friend and take the stairs instead of the nicely air-conditioned elevator once in a while. A 30 minute workout for 5 days a week and your body will thank you forever!

Mean Girls are Girls not Women
It is now time for you to distance yourself from all the bitch-drama this world has to offer. Toxic and clingy people should not be a part of your day, at least not every day. High-school is over and so is giving a damn fuck!!!

Find a Good Dentist
You brush two times a day. Occasionally floss. Change your toothbrush every three months. And your teeth are in perfectly good condition. Think again. By the time your body reaches its 30s your teeth have seen everything from the Stone Age to the Medieval Times and more. Find a good dentist. Make frequent visits perhaps every three months. You’ll be thanking me later personally for this.

Learn to Say No
Do I really have to explain this? Know your limitations and oblige them. You are not 19 anymore. And that’s a good thing. Spending the Saturday night infront of the telly is totally normal. You no longer should function on account of guilt or force. And knowing when to say no not only means in terms of booze, smoke or sex, it also matters when it comes to relationships, friendships and the last slice of the pizza!

He is not Waiting around the next Corner
Your significant other is not going to pop up in a bookstore or offer to buy you a drink (non-alcoholic one) just because you look good whilst at a party at Del Frio or Gloria Jeans. Suck it up, and move on. Either say yes to an arrange-marriage or stop day-dreaming about meeting a handsome stranger and falling madly in love at first sight.

There is no such thing as a Best Friend
Enough said. Period.

“A Hair Gone Rogue…”

And today you are in for a real treat folks, the cascading story of my ordeal and the lovely tale of a follicle gone rogue.

I must warn you, if you have a weak stomach or are completely against females revealing personal details, look away!

You should not be here. (Best you go back to that Facebook video displaying the many traits of a rising movie star)

Hmmmm…

I guess you did not pay heed to my warning. Well then, let’s get into it. Shall we?

Once upon a time, a young, beautiful maiden, with raven flocks and dark circles decided to confess her true feelings towards the timeless adornment that is a skinny jeans. She simply could not resist its charm and wished never to part ways. Little did she know, destiny will forever steer them away, and time shall remember this as a tale of horrors and eternal plague.

You obviously have no idea what I am talking about and by now you’re considering closing this tab. Well that is totally your choice but come on; you made the effort to open this link, did you not? Give it some time. A tale of such epic proportions deserves a little patience and precision.

Well, where were we?

Yes, it all started on a humid, Saturday night in August, 2015, when I decided to reach out for my book and get cosy under the blanket. And yes the air conditioning was on but I do not support ACs at all. All of a sudden, a ripple in my tummy and my infancy-years’ potty training made me rush to my washroom (Is it a washroom, a bathroom or a toilet? This question has haunted me for years). I prefer to call it a ladies room but let’s get real, here I am, sitting and talking about excretion, can’t get fancy can I?) So, anyways, 10 minutes down the line, I came out all sweaty and disgusted, I was suffering from extreme diarrhea and not the nice brown one. Take my word for it. I came to the realization that I also had fever. Now, normally, I am a strong, big-girl, but diarrhea is a little scary to me. Owing to the fact that the last time I had diarrhea, my father was in the hospital. (We all have absurd and illogical fears, just admit it).

I approached my Mom, and told her about my condition. She gave me plain biscuits, a glass of juice (I think it was Orange) and a tablet. My fever was not helping either and Mom told me I am not supposed to sleep in my bedroom tonight. I slept with her in her room, she was being you know a typical Mom, so she could check up on me during the night.

In the morning, I felt surprisingly better, my fever had subsided and my diarrhea was much more in control (Get it? In control? Hahaha. Hmmm. I thought it was funny – moving on).

My Sunday passed, relatively normal and I just had to use the facilities a few times. Monday morning dawned and owing to my routine, I dressed up for work. Put on black jeans, apple green top, a messy-bun, minimal jewellery, my signature kohl eyes and my promise-bracele,t and I was off to a day of hard-core athlete and sports management. (Actually that day, I remember only figuring out where my Boss spent the last transaction he made =P).

Around lunchtime when I used the facilities, yet again, I felt a burning sensation around my thigh.

Well, what I found was a small red bump, around my inner, right thigh. It was soar to touch and the bump had a teeny-tiny opening at the center. Thankfully to my 5 years in medicine (And no, I am not a doctor, I am a Biotechnologist by qualification), I at once, recognized, the pain in my ass (pardon my language).

In spite of my most cherished belief, I fired up my laptop, went online and Googled, an ingrown follicle, or commonly known as ‘Munn Turr Baal’ in Urdu. Owing to my symptoms, I confirmed my earlier diagnosis and also learned that diarrhea and fever are its onset indicators. I did not notify my Mom about it, she already has a million things on her plate, and that my friend was my first mistake.

I reached out for my trusty, ‘Hum-Dard Marham’ and applied a generous amount to the bump and its surrounding area. I convinced myself that this will heal itself in a few days and like always my handy-balm will take care of it. Sadly, I was badly mistaken. The next day, I wore another of my skinny pants to work and that was my second mistake.

Over the next 3 days, the bump got redder, bigger and more painful. And my tight fitting clothes were adding to the problem. I finally told my Mom and obviously got a scolding of a lifetime. The bump now was covered with a thin film containing cream-colored pus indicating that I had angered it.

Next came the home-remedies just after I applied for my first ever leave from work in over five and a half years. Imagine explaining your boss that you cannot come to work because you have a skin condition that does not permit appropriate office attire!

My Nani (great-grandmother) made this special covering for me, with basil seeds soaked in water and lined on a thin muslin cloth, cut in a circle with a whole in the middle. It was to soak the bump’s pus and then burst. And for your information that is how an ingrown hair or folliculitis (inflammation of the hair follicles) heals, it is supposed to burst! Well the basil seeds did not help although it did for a cousin of mine. I also took worthy advice of a doctor-friend of mine and coated the bump with an antibiotic cream, Fucidin of Leo Pharmaceuticals. And it helped with the redness immediately.

Two days later when the pain was unbearable, and even the slightest of touch led me to scream, I finally gave up on my retaliation against seeing a doctor. I went to an ER of a hospital in my vicinity, upon checking the doctor prescribed a dose of the antibiotic – Augmentin (GlaxoSmithKline) which is basically a combination of amoxicillin and clavulanate potassium for 5 days and then a small surgery (incision and drainage) to remove the pus and bacteria. I weeped like a baby upon hearing the word ‘operate’.

I spent the next 5 days, lying in bed, murmuring in pain and hoping to Almighty that He forgives me of my sins. I walked around like a Penguin, (a fat-penguin to be exact according to my baby brother) and barely ate. The antibiotics added to my diarrhea problem, coating my mouth with a smelly film that would just not go away! The doctor also asked me to apply Polyfax of GlaxoSmithKline to the infected area. But honestly, it did not good for me, I continued with Fucidin application.

After 5 days, I returned to the hospital and the doctors asked me to come the next day during OPD hours and the operation will take place at 11:00 AM. I couldn’t help but cry right in the middle of the ER. As we all know, mother knows best, my Mom was just not convinced with the verdict and she forced me to another hospital in the city, a rather expensive but known to be trusted widely. There in the ER, a doctor looked at my thigh, slightly pressed it and said this did not need surgery. I smiled like a toothless baby upon seeing its feeding bottle. She was very nice and explained me that it no longer needs any kind of operation but you have been give the wrong medicine and the wrong measures to accelerate the healing.

She prescribed me a week-long of steroids, 4 pills, every 4 hours and periodic cleaning of the area with regular soap and water. No alcohol preps. No fancy, anti-bacterial cleaning agents. My relief knew no bounds. I spent the next week almost, filling my body with steroids and praying against a hormonal-imbalance. It came with extreme diarrhea but with the Grace of Almighty Allah, my bump seemed to agree with the dosage and I noticed betterment in my condition. I tried pressing the bump, as per the doctor’s advice, each time I cleaned it and every time, cream-coloured pus coupled with blood oozed out and left me light-headed. Keeping the infected area open and dry was definitely my true saviour. But sadly, mine never burst but may be that makes me all the more special. 😉 And my trips to the office wearing Hawaiian skirts was definitely an experience to remember.

Today marks one month to my ordeal, the bump has reduced, pus has cleared out but a tiny elevation remains which will probably leave a purple scar for good. I am no longer on antibiotics or steroids however my diarrhea has not ceased to exist. A month-long of Delhi-belly has left me weak and stunned. I am now completing a course of Flagyl (metronidazole) of Sanofi-Aventis Pakistan Limited and hoping for this torment to end already.

You are probably wondering, I wasted the last 15 minutes of your life by posting this mundane encounter online with no religious, social or political significance! The reason, I penned my tale is to a) create awareness against this ingrown hair phenomenon and b) to elucidate the importance of proper diagnosis in any kind of medical situation.

I lost my father to late-diagnosis from a money-making and scheming team of doctors.

I lost one of my brothers to improper diagnosis upon his accident.

So you see how personally, I feel about this issue.

If you see a bump, anywhere on your body; for the Love of God do not ignore it. Tell your parents, spouse or a friend immediately. Go see a doctor. Take a second opinion. And follow it thoroughly. Look what a scanty piece of hair did to me! I am seriously scared of wearing pants now.

If you are reading this then I forward you my gratitude for your valuable time. And I request you to say a prayer for the well-being of every living being on earth!

12 things 2012 taught me!

12) I may be tempted often to remove it but I feel the most beautiful and comfortable with my Hijab on.

11) M, is the sister, God forgot to give me. He did it purposely so; we’d meet 20 years later and drive everyone crazy around us.

10) I am so good that people hate me like anything yet still copy me!

09) My brother is a true artist. No just another guy with a DSLR but he actually knows how to capture a moment, be it through his lens or on a canvas using oil paints.

08) You can actually lose weight over a job. I lost 8lb since I start working for my current boss. (2.5 years).

07) Toners and cleansing milk do nothing for my skin except giving it acne.

06) No amount of bliss can surpass the joy you get when you take your family out for a dinner and a movie. Or any kind of outing that you give them.

05) My mom is undoubtedly the strongest woman I have ever seen. She lost her husband and today she laughs with her children. God knows, how she does it.

04) Cancer is a horrible nightmare that you live every day.

03) My father will not be there at my wedding day.

02) No amount of wealth can buy you Loyalty.

01) Parents have an expiration date. And you cannot ask Lord to extend their shelf-life. :’(

Let’s learn from the lesson and make the New Year count!

I’ve yet to come to terms with his demise, said a friend!

I’ve yet to decide what I want from my life…
It used to be all clear back then…
But now it’s all a blur…
I guess I can now whine about my father’s death.
It wasn’t a death to be exact…
It’s just that we don’t speak to each other now.
He doesn’t come home from Dubai…
Every three months.
He doesn’t buy practically the whole world for me…
He has no idea why I cannot read or write anymore…
And mom cannot stop thinking about him.
Wouldn’t call all that a matter of life and death now would we?
I’ve yet to come to terms with his demise, said a friend.
What terms…?
I know he won’t be there at my wedding.
What else do you want me to make peace with?
I haven’t cried a lot though…
I often feel like…
But then I decide to evade the feeling…
And rather invest the energy in doing something for my family.
Does that make me a heartless cold person?
I guess it does to some extent at least.
I don’t know the exact definition of pain yet…
Does pain mean to sit in a corner, mope, and whimper and cry out loud…?
Cause if that is…
Then I don’t feel an ounce of pain in my heart.
I was hoping it was more on the lines of emptiness…
A void that can never be filled…
A space that is evicted…
A dream that no longer holds meaning…
A family that sits quietly on the dining table…
A Bond movie that will never be the same again…
A salary raise that will not be celebrated…
A month of Ramadan that will be unusual…
And a woman who will not send three men to the Eid Prayers ever again!
As rest is all the same…
I go to work every day…
My mom cooks every day…
My brother’s annoy me every day…
My boss treats me like trash every day…
My personal life is still uncertain…
So I don’t see much of a reason to sit and cry and stop living my life.
So, does that make me a bad daughter…???
Certainly does not make me the best one around!
I’ve yet to come to terms with his demise, said a friend.
What terms…?
Do you want me to pen down a contract…?
With specific terms and conditions…
As to how I am supposed to live and feel now…?
Am I not permitted to express my sorrow in my own way…?
Or is it because I’ve to show the world…
And act in a specific manner…
To convince them that I am in complete grief!
Do I have to remove my display picture from Facebook…
To convince the world I am mourning?
Do I have to stop watching my favorite show…?
To show the world I am distort from inside…
Well then I am extremely sorry…
I cannot do that.
I rather be claimed, an ungrateful daughter…
Than be tagged as a anecdotal human being.